Chapter 23
Kameron was there again. Great. He’d half been expecting this.
Since he’d gotten into it with that Clary bitch in town, then that blond witch at the diner had yelled at him and her asshole father had banned him from ever stepping foot on Talley premises again.
They’d all been watching. Even that little schoolteacher he’d thought was so cute before.
She’d looked at him like he was trash. She’d never looked at him like that before.
He grabbed the bologna out of the fridge. It was about all that was left now. And since he’d lost his best gigs, he’d have to not be stupid with the money until he replaced them. That meant fried bologna again. Shit. He hated that.
Jacob didn’t want a fucking fried bologna sandwich. He was so sick of bologna, in every way that mattered.
Kameron was there to fight. Probably about those girls.
Well, fuck that. Jacob had his own problems with Mr. Fancy here.
He was so fucking prissy. It was a wonder he ever got a girl to look at him at all.
Then again, maybe he didn’t—maybe that was why he was just making eyes at that girl who was so pathetic in high school, and nothing was coming from it.
“I saw you. The other day.” He looked at his brother. Kameron was such a damned pansy-ass. So pretty. He’d heard some of those Talley girls saying that in the diner today. Before all that shit at the diner with Marin Talley. Saying how pretty Calloway Grady and Kameron Neilson were.
They didn’t look at Jacob that way. He and Kameron both had their father’s brown hair and blue eyes.
They were the same fucking height, though Kameron weighed less than Jacob’s two-seventy.
Kameron was always running, keeping himself in shape.
Kameron had run his way through college, being some big track star.
He still coached the junior high cross country and track and field teams at the school. Gee, how did he find the time?
Kameron did this, Kameron did that, Kameron deserved what he got.
Jacob had always hated competition days. His dad would yank his ass out of bed at four or five in the morning and make him go watch his brother accomplish his dreams.
He’d been eleven and Kameron a senior in high school before Jacob had found a way to make it stop.
A little of his dad’s prescription laxative in Kameron’s protein shake had been all it would take.
His brother had gotten sick each and every time.
And eventually, Kameron’s mother took him to the doctor.
Who said it was just anxiety, and maybe he should take a break from running.
Jacob had always laughed about that.
His brother had stopped running that year but had taken it back up in college after he’d been ‘miracle cured’.
He still slipped his brother a little something now and then whenever he could. Just for old time’s sake. Sometimes it was that same laxative. Other times he’d slipped him a bit of his father’s pain killers. They always knocked the old man out.
He’d used those pain killers before. Very accurately.
In a cup of coffee at Monroe Tyler’s fucking mechanic shop, waiting on his dad to get off work, most recently. That had been satisfying. No denying that.
Maybe he’d slip Tish a small dose, if he could get her to go out with him. Just enough to make her drowsy and cuddly. He’d get laid—and Kameron would get nothing.
Exactly what his brother deserved.
He was thinking about that when he left, and drove toward the highway. He’d get Tish into bed, fuck her brains out, and forget his brother even existed.
He was planning exactly what he would do to her when the stupidly expensive truck came around the curve. Jacob recognized it, Grady Group on the side was distinctive. And then he did something totally stupid.
He would never forget what happened next.