“Oh gosh. You’re not talking about that silly little fat girl with the red hair, are you? I mean, come on. She was practically trailer trash.”
My hand was around her neck before the word trash fully left her lips, causing her to squeal the word. I wanted nothing more than to squeeze until her beady little eyeballs fell from her air-filled head.
“I’d rather fuck a silly little fat girl with red hair in a trailer filled with trash than touch you. You disgust me, Rosalyn. You. This will be a marriage in name only. Whatever ideas you have in that shallow head of yours, I suggest you let it go because it won’t happen. Fuck who you wish because you won’t be fucking me.”
I let her go and watched her touch her neck and subtly look around to see if anyone noticed her lesson in humility. When she was satisfied that no one cared, she flipped her hair and stood from the table.
“We’ll just see what our fathers have to say about that.”
“They may control who I marry, but they can’t control who I stick my dick into.”
“Think again, Dasher. How else will we give them an heir?”
* * *
In all I’d given up, I never fully realized what I, too, would have to give. Rosalyn was right. My father would want an heir, and he would want one soon, but the thought of touching this bitch made my skin crawl.
I left the restaurant twice as irritated and fled to my empty apartment. It greeted me with silence as it always did as I shed my suit jacket and tie on the way to my bedroom.
I had moved back to Nevada after graduating but then chose to leave Six Forks behind for the city thirty minutes away. My commute to the office was still thirty minutes, which explained why my father stayed away so often.
When I laid my jacket on the foot of the bed, the royal blue corner of the envelope peeked from the pocket, reminding me of the mail Sheldon had sent.
I knew what it would be without opening the invitation.
My sister was getting married… and to one of my best friends.
A best friend who I’d grown to have mixed feelings about over the last four years.
My finger slid slowly through the small opening and tore open the flap.
TOGETHER
Keenan Masters
and
Sheldon Chambers
Request the pleasure of your company at
the ceremony of their marriage.
Saturday, the Twenty-fourth of November at
Five o’clock in the evening.
Chambers Mansion
476 Cambridge Lane
I read the words over and over, and each time, I debated over my answer even though there was really only one.
My phone rang in my pocket, and without looking, I retrieved it and answered on the second ring. “Yeah?”
“Uncle?”
“Ken?” My heart rate accelerated as I held my breath and waited for trouble to come through the line. It didn’t take much anymore to make me worry.
“Hi, uncle!” I breathed a little easier when her voice sounded its usual toddler cheeriness. I checked my phone screen to see Keenan’s name. I wasn’t surprised that she was able to call me. After her kidnapping, they started to teach her how to call one of us despite her young age. Speed dial became pretty handy when it was clear she couldn’t retain all of our numbers.
“Ken, what are you doing with your father’s phone?”
“He let me play with it so he could play with mommy.”
“Son of a—” Her innocence was truly astounding at times. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sleepy. What are you doing?”
“Going to bed like you should be.”
“Are you sleepy? I not,” she boasted.
“I am very sleepy. Did your daddy let you have candy again before bedtime?”
“Uh huh. Don’t tell mommy or she’ll be very mad and make daddy cry.”
“Angel—” My eyes involuntarily shut at the memory of the only other girl I called Angel. “Ken… your father is a phony.”
“My daddy not a phone.”
“I didn’t say—”
“I talk to Uncle Keke now. Bye, Uncle.”
And just like that, the line went dead. I shook my head and finished undressing before entering the expansive master bath. A hot shower was needed to relax the permanent tension I seemed to carry these days. Tomorrow I had an important meeting with an oil company my dad had been looking to buy into for years. If I succeeded, maybe I could convince him that an alliance with the Cordells wasn’t necessary.
I knew it wasn’t entirely about money because we had plenty of it—enough to last for the next generation. My marrying Rosalyn was a failsafe. In case I fucked up, we would have their backing.
My hand was around her neck before the word trash fully left her lips, causing her to squeal the word. I wanted nothing more than to squeeze until her beady little eyeballs fell from her air-filled head.
“I’d rather fuck a silly little fat girl with red hair in a trailer filled with trash than touch you. You disgust me, Rosalyn. You. This will be a marriage in name only. Whatever ideas you have in that shallow head of yours, I suggest you let it go because it won’t happen. Fuck who you wish because you won’t be fucking me.”
I let her go and watched her touch her neck and subtly look around to see if anyone noticed her lesson in humility. When she was satisfied that no one cared, she flipped her hair and stood from the table.
“We’ll just see what our fathers have to say about that.”
“They may control who I marry, but they can’t control who I stick my dick into.”
“Think again, Dasher. How else will we give them an heir?”
* * *
In all I’d given up, I never fully realized what I, too, would have to give. Rosalyn was right. My father would want an heir, and he would want one soon, but the thought of touching this bitch made my skin crawl.
I left the restaurant twice as irritated and fled to my empty apartment. It greeted me with silence as it always did as I shed my suit jacket and tie on the way to my bedroom.
I had moved back to Nevada after graduating but then chose to leave Six Forks behind for the city thirty minutes away. My commute to the office was still thirty minutes, which explained why my father stayed away so often.
When I laid my jacket on the foot of the bed, the royal blue corner of the envelope peeked from the pocket, reminding me of the mail Sheldon had sent.
I knew what it would be without opening the invitation.
My sister was getting married… and to one of my best friends.
A best friend who I’d grown to have mixed feelings about over the last four years.
My finger slid slowly through the small opening and tore open the flap.
TOGETHER
Keenan Masters
and
Sheldon Chambers
Request the pleasure of your company at
the ceremony of their marriage.
Saturday, the Twenty-fourth of November at
Five o’clock in the evening.
Chambers Mansion
476 Cambridge Lane
I read the words over and over, and each time, I debated over my answer even though there was really only one.
My phone rang in my pocket, and without looking, I retrieved it and answered on the second ring. “Yeah?”
“Uncle?”
“Ken?” My heart rate accelerated as I held my breath and waited for trouble to come through the line. It didn’t take much anymore to make me worry.
“Hi, uncle!” I breathed a little easier when her voice sounded its usual toddler cheeriness. I checked my phone screen to see Keenan’s name. I wasn’t surprised that she was able to call me. After her kidnapping, they started to teach her how to call one of us despite her young age. Speed dial became pretty handy when it was clear she couldn’t retain all of our numbers.
“Ken, what are you doing with your father’s phone?”
“He let me play with it so he could play with mommy.”
“Son of a—” Her innocence was truly astounding at times. “Why aren’t you in bed?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sleepy. What are you doing?”
“Going to bed like you should be.”
“Are you sleepy? I not,” she boasted.
“I am very sleepy. Did your daddy let you have candy again before bedtime?”
“Uh huh. Don’t tell mommy or she’ll be very mad and make daddy cry.”
“Angel—” My eyes involuntarily shut at the memory of the only other girl I called Angel. “Ken… your father is a phony.”
“My daddy not a phone.”
“I didn’t say—”
“I talk to Uncle Keke now. Bye, Uncle.”
And just like that, the line went dead. I shook my head and finished undressing before entering the expansive master bath. A hot shower was needed to relax the permanent tension I seemed to carry these days. Tomorrow I had an important meeting with an oil company my dad had been looking to buy into for years. If I succeeded, maybe I could convince him that an alliance with the Cordells wasn’t necessary.
I knew it wasn’t entirely about money because we had plenty of it—enough to last for the next generation. My marrying Rosalyn was a failsafe. In case I fucked up, we would have their backing.
