Chapter 16
“He’s getting into her, I tell ya,” Ez babbled something next to my ear as I watched some shit Netflix that was playing on the big screen in the living room, though no one was actually watching it except me. Whoever put it on lost interest and left it running
“What?” I snarled in a bad mood because our mom left a message asking me to call her, and I knew exactly what it was about.
That’s why I’d take my time to call her back.
Or at least until I could think of an excuse to dodge the Charity Ball—she always wanted the oldest son to escort her.
She tried hard not to let her favoritism show, but the reason she wanted me there instead of Ez was that I am the oldest son.
I beg to differ, though. I think it’s because I carry our father’s dark features and have been told many times how much I look like him.
Ez, on the other hand, looked more like her side of the family, but his dark humor and obsessiveness definitely came from Dad’s side.
“Dirty ol’ Deano,” he added as if I should know who he was talking about, “our Finance tutor.” Obviously, he was reading my blank expression. “You know the one who likes to fuck his students.”
“What about him?” I didn’t care, and I wished he’d stop speaking in cryptic language, so he’d get to the point faster.
“I caught him making the moves on the Boleyn girl,” he stated, “luckily I interrupted before he touched her.”
“So what?” I hit back. “They’re both adults.”
“Ah, fuck, you said you don’t want us to touch her, yet you don’t mind if the Dirty ol’ Deano gets into her,” he sat down in the leather lounger chair, slid back a bit, and started scrolling on his phone.
“The two are not comparable,” I stressed as some chick on the screen pulled a gun on a dude, and I thought it looked comical, rather than the serious show that it was supposed to be.
“What do you mean?” he asked, staring at the screen of his phone.
“I don’t give a fuck if the dirty tutor fucks her and leaves her in the dust, whereas you and Lev need to keep your hands to yourselves and your focus on the objective,” I explained.
“Nah,” he snapped, shaking his head, still staring at the screen of his phone. “Mullane won, bro.”
“What?” It looks like we’ve changed the subject. Ez’s brain flicked around the place, covering several topics in three minutes, then would come around to the first topic eventually. It was a matter of keeping up with a spinning web.
“Mullane,” he held up his phone for me to see the video of a dirt bike race on the screen, and it occurred to me he was talking about Mullane, the dirt bike racer.
Ez and Lev had a greater interest in motocross than I, whereas I preferred team sports, like football and baseball, partly because I was in the Castlehill Kings. “Good on him. So he’s moved on to the next round?”
“I’m not having it, bro, that dirty ol’ Deano and stay the fuck away from her,” he argued, and now we’re talking about the Boleyn girl again. “Yeah, he’s off to Europe for the champs over there.” Fuck, this convo was making me dizzy.
I barely looked at the Boleyn girl, so I didn’t care about her welfare, not just because she was our enemy, but because I didn’t give a shit about most girls around here.
Just another chick, nothing special, but extra attention was given to scaring her shitless to wear down the daddy’s little girl.
The ultimate goal was for Boleyn to drop charges against our father, and we’ll do whatever we can to make that happen.
Taunting, teasing, torturing, whatever. That was why Ez and Lev had to be level-headed about it.
I took my sneaker off and threw it at Ez, and his head snapped up and scowled at me. “What?” he blurted hotly.
“Keep your fucking feelings to yourself, bro,” I snarled, warning him. “Keep focused.”
“I am,” he argued back, grabbing my shoe and throwing it back at me, and I caught it in one hand, then slipped it back on my foot.
“She’s not human, Ez, she’s a fucking Boleyn. I don’t give a fuck how hot you think she is-” I stressed, hoping it would sink in.
“Fuck off, she’s not hot at all,” he argued back, and I didn’t believe him. “Anyway, have you called back Mom?”
I groaned as I’d been trying to forget it, “How do you know about that? Did she contact you?”
“Yeah, because you didn’t answer her call and then didn’t call her back an hour after she left a message. You know how much she panders over you, bro,” he was clenching his jaw as he spoke, as if suppressing unwanted emotions from brimming up.
But I knew my brother too well not to realize that it hurt him when Mom paid more attention to me.
I wish it were the other way around because Ez loves attention, while I don’t.
If Mom didn’t contact me for an entire year, I wouldn’t notice, but he would.
We were different people from the same parents.
Then there was Lev, who was always on the outside, where he was happiest, and I was kind of jealous of him for that. He’s not blood-related, so he could have one foot in the family when convenient and hold no responsibility.
“She needs to chill,” I mumbled, annoyed.
Ez’s head tipped back and he laughed loudly, “Sure, bro. Try and say that to her face. Mom is the boss, and you know it.”
My phone started ringing in my pocket, and Mom flashed up on the screen, and I groaned again. “She’s fucking telepathic,” I blurted, showing Ez my screen, and cracked up laughing even louder.
“That always happens, bro,” he cackled, pointing his finger at me. “Answer it.”
“Nah. I’ll call her back later,” I persisted, stubbornly.
“Answer it,” he shouted, snatching at my phone, but I quickly moved it out of the way.
“Fuck off,” it stopped ringing, thank fuck, and I laid it on the couch beside me just as Robbie and Conrad, two of my teammates who lived in the frat house, strolled in, mouths stuffed with sandwiches.
They cocked their eyebrows as they sauntered in, Robbie swallowing his sandwich before saying, “Just saw the cops down at the park.”
“Yeah? Since when was the park a crime scene?” I mocked. Actually, I forgot they were here. I hadn’t seen any, but maybe I wasn’t looking in the right place.
Conrad looked behind him as if he heard something, before adding, “They’re just relaxing in the sun, chilling out.”
Robbie continued, “Conrad tried chatting up the lady cop to get some privileged info out of her, but he failed.”
“I was only getting started, bro,” Conrad argued back, whacking larger Robbie on the arm, who then whacked him back.
The smile vanished from Ez’s face as he was concerned more than anyone about the cops hanging about, sticking noses into everyone’s business. We were all on the train when the alleged death took place, so we’re all witnesses and we have our stories down pact.
“They might never question us,” I said to all three guys, but I really meant the message to be for Ez, hoping that he’d chill out and not worry about it. Getting pent up and stressed out only makes you look guilty for something you never did.
“Fuck, I don’t even know who the dead person is,” Robbie replied, “I haven’t noticed anyone missing. Have you?”
I was about to answer when we fell silent at the sound of short, sharp cries of a girl getting fucked, and the guys glanced around to see where it was coming from.
The games room sliding door was partially open, and Robbie poked his head inside, then bellowed, “Eoi! Keep it down,” then slid the door shut.
“Which one is it?” Ez asked with a mischievous grin.
“Cole and that blond chick,” he pointed out.
“What’s the point of a fucking bedroom if they fuck in there,” I mumbled in a bad mood, not because they’re fucking, but because the guilt of ignoring my mom was eating away at me.
“You’ve fucked chicks in there,” Ez pointed out, which was true, but I barely remember them.
The games room has large screens for gaming, but when you switch it to porn, especially that type designed to be addictive, it becomes pretty stimulating, and fucking any pretty girl hanging around will do.
I didn’t like being addicted to anything, including porn, sex, and dope, because I liked to be in control one hundred percent of the time. But I’ll let myself have some fun now and again, as long as I pull my shit together quickly afterward.
The sliding door opened, and the girl stepped out, adjusting her clothes with blushing cheeks.
She then noticed we were staring at her, so I shot her a dark scowl to let her know who was in charge.
Don’t bother talking to me because I have no interest in being nice to her.
Although if Cole wasn’t fixated on her, I might fuck later if I was in the mood.
“Huh,” Ez grunted, and I turned to read his face. “That’s the chick I saw earlier.”
“And?” I shrugged casually as he acted like it was some revelation that the girl Ez saw earlier on campus was the same girl Cole just fucked. It’s a small world and an even smaller college, especially since we’re not operating at full throttle yet.
“Knows the Boleyn girl,” he said as if that was important. So what?
“You’re fucking obsessed, bro. You need help. Like maybe you should go see the campus psychiatrist for obsessive tendencies,” I joked, although not really.
My comment went straight over the top of him, “But I don’t think they liked each other. You know how girls pretend to like each other and force niceness so they don’t reveal their insecurities?”
“No,” I replied flatly. “Delving into the psychology of women is something I’d never want to do.”
His attention was diverted again as he dropped his head down and started scrolling on his phone. “Just messaged Lev about Mullane.”
Right. We’re back on the dirt bike subject again.
Ez then pressed his ear against his phone, and I assumed he was calling Lev, until he spoke. His tone was soft, and I knew he was talking to Mom.
“Yeah, he’s here now,” he beamed at me, then shot me the middle finger as he held his phone to me to claim.
I mouthed ‘fuck you’ as I took his phone and then kicked him hard in the shins, which only made him laugh even more.
“Mom, sorry I haven’t-”
She interrupted impatiently and showed disinterest in small talk, which was a relief. “Are you watching that girl?” But her tone sent a shiver down my spine. Living with my father for all those years had hardened her.
I exhaled to cool my frustration. “Yes. It’s all under control. You don’t need to ask every five minutes,” I asserted and went to swipe Ez with my foot again, but he swiftly moved out of the way.
“Five minutes?” she shrilled. “This is the first time we’ve spoken since you left for college.”
“It’s all under control,” I assured her.
“Don’t let her get comfortable,” my mother stated in that steely voice. “She owes us. She and her father…” She made that hissing sound when she found someone repugnant. Our mom did it so often that I don’t think she’s aware when she’s doing it.
Everyone wore a veneer of distrust since Dad was arrested. It changed her worldview—them vs. us. No one should be trusted until proven otherwise. Viewing the world through a black-and-white lens made her cynical and distrustful.
“I want her skinned alive,” she spat, and a tiny part of me actually felt sorry for the Boleyn girl. It wasn’t her fault who her father was. Fuck, I was starting to sound like Lev.
“Fine,” I said dryly. “I’ve got to head out for a run now.”
“One more minute,” she bit and punched the air in frustration because I knew what she was going to say next. I just didn’t want to hear it. “The charity ball.”
“Gotta go. Take care, mom.” I swiped off, shot Ez a dirty look, then leapt off the couch with Ez’s phone. He followed, trying to wrestle it back from me, but I managed to get to the front door. I was about to toss it off the porch, but he tackled me to the ground. “Traitor.”
“It got her off my back,” he raged back at me as we wrestled on the floor. “Always fucking,” He then mimicked Mom’s voice, “Why isn’t my favorite son calling me back?”
“Bullshit,” as I punched him in the ribs and he punched me back. Just the usual brotherly play fighting until someone gets a bloodied nose. “I’ll trade places any day.”
I let my little brother wrench the phone from my hand when Cole poked his head out of the games room to see what the noise was all about.
“I hope you disinfected in there after you pounded that chick, bro,” Ez scolded him in a friendly way, before racing upstairs while I lay on the floor staring up at the ceiling, ignoring the incoming call from my mother.
When I didn’t answer, a notification came through my phone, and I didn’t need to check it to know it was her. The message when I could be bothered reading it was: The Charity Ball is on Sept 27th son. You won’t let me down, will you?
Reluctantly, I answered her question with a No because she’ll continue to wear me and Ez down until we surrender.