Rowdy Boy

“But you’re not—”

Suddenly, the door bursts open, and Tristan steps inside. He stops abruptly the moment he spots me standing there in the middle of the room.

“Oh, boy …” he mutters, raising a brow at me, then at Cole, who is still standing there with a boner in his pants like he doesn’t even care. “I did not expect to see … that.”

My cheeks turn strawberry red, and I tuck my hair behind my ear, feeling exposed. “Me neither,” I retort.

“Dude, I just wanted to give you time to cool off. Not so you could bang girls,” Tristan says, passing me by. “And what the fuck happened with your guitar? Why the fuck did you not see this before the concert?”

I glance at Cole over my shoulder, hoping, praying he won’t tell a soul.

Because if those boys realize it was me … if Michael finds out … he might do something much, much worse than Cole ever could.

And for some reason, I feel like he gets that too because the way he looks at me makes me stop in my tracks. His jaw clenches, his eyes flashing disappointment.

“It just fucking happened. And it doesn’t fucking matter anymore,” Cole rasps at Tristan, but he never takes his eyes off me.

A sigh leaves my mouth, but my heart is anything but calm. As I storm out the door, the storm in my heart rages on.

Chapter 25

Cole

I throw the broken guitar on the table in front of my dad’s stack of money. “I need a new one.”

He looks up at me as though I’ve lost my mind. “What the hell did you do to that?”

Well … Monica Romero cut through some strings, but then I threw it in a corner in my rage and broke the rest of it. So I guess I have both of us to blame … or just myself, considering I pushed her to her limits.

“Doesn’t matter. It broke. I need a new one,” I reply.

He snorts. “And you’re gonna work for it, I suppose?”

My nose twitches. “How much?”

“Twenty-five.”

“Dollars?” I frown. No way he’d settle for that.

“Twenty-five hundred,” he says.

I almost choke on my own tongue. “Fuck, no.”

I’m not gonna sell twenty-five hundred dollars’ worth of drugs. No fucking way.

“Fine, you don’t wanna work for me?” He leans back in his chair. “You’re a big famous celebrity now, aren’t you? You can play some concerts.”

“I can’t play without a guitar,” I growl.

“Well then, guess you’ll have to use your savings,” he jests.

“That’s literally all we have, and it would all be gone then.” I grind my teeth. “Can’t you help us a little bit?”

He cocks his head and shrugs. “Depends on whether you’re finally going to help our family business too.”

My eyes narrow, and I grab the broken guitar and march off. “Forget it.”

He scoots his chair back and gets up. “Wait a minute.”

“For what?” I bark, pausing to hear what he has to say.

“Don’t you talk to me like that.” He points his finger at me as though it adds more weight to his words. “I’m your father, show some damn respect.”

“You mean the same respect you give my high school classmates when you get them addicted to coke and meth?” I growl.

He slams his fist on the table. “Don’t you fucking dare look down on me and my business.”

“Whatever. I don’t want any part in it,” I reply, and I quickly walk off before he has more to say. I guess the time when he’d help me get on my feet are over. I’m on my own now.

“You want to earn money? The right way?” my father barks as he walks after me.

I pause halfway across the stairs while he stares up at me from the bottom.

He sighs out loud. “Your mother and I are going on a trip. We’re leaving in a few hours. Clean the house and hire a new maid and gardener today. The old ones quit.”

Of course they quit. Once they find out how my father earns the money they get paid with, they always do. No one wants to get anywhere near that, and he knows. I’m surprised the cops haven’t landed on his doorstep yet, but it’s only a matter of time.

“I’ll give you fifteen hundred. You can fork up the rest yourself,” he adds.

I mull it over for a second. If this means I get to keep part of my savings, I’m still out of this house quicker than I would be if I didn’t accept his deal. “Fine,” I reply. “Anything else?”

“Yeah … This place better be squeaky clean when your mother and I get back.”

I sigh and walk farther upstairs. “Yeah, yeah, got it.”

“No maid will clean the entire house in a day, Cole! Better get on your knees and do the work yourself!”

“I heard you!” I retort, slamming my door shut before he tries to order me around.