Page 212 of Tis the Season to be Bullied

I’m glad he has a healthy outlet for the shit he gets dealt on such a regular basis. My dad’s never here, but that’s a shit-ton better than if he was…and he was roughing me up every other night.

“So you decided if you’re going to MU yet, or what?” I ask as I key in the security code on the mansion’s front door keypad. I could have set up this place to work from my phone or smartwatch by now, but Dad’s super old fashioned when it comes to this shit. I mean, we’ve got cameras and stuff inside, but they don’t even get backed up to the fucking cloud.

Nope. DVD’s all the way.

If Marcus’s dad weren’t such a fucking douche bag, I’d have asked Marcus a long time ago to get us a quote for a new security system.

When Marcus doesn’t answer, I shove the mansion’s massive front door open and block the entrance. “You okay, man?”

Marcus is staring at the ground, his mouth in an unhappy line. “Yeah, it’s just…” He sighs, ruffles his hair again, and makes a face at me. “The old man seems to think I’m obligated to work at his company when I’m done with school.”

“What? Fuck.” I step aside, and Marcus trudges reluctantly inside. “But you told him you wanna be an attorney, right?”

“Man, he doesn’t fucking listen.” Marcus heads straight for the kitchen. I follow him inside, watching as he sets our beers inside the double refrigerator.

Natalie designed this space. A few of the rooms, too. She was a fully qualified architect, and actually fucking good at it. But she seemed to think this house would be brimming with kids. Everything feels two sizes too big—the massive kitchen with its long island, the dining room table that seats twenty guests, the excess of guest bedrooms.

“Dude, you gotta level with him,” I say, taking the can he hands me and cracking it open. “You can’t go do something you don’t?—”

“I don’t have a choice.” He turns, staring out the window. “He’s holding my trust fund hostage.”

My eyebrows lift to my hairline. I’m speechless. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I thought at least in adulthood, Marcus’s dad would cut him a fucking break.

“Wow…that’s…”

“Cold,” Marcus mutters. He swings back to me, lifts his can, and takes several long swallows. “Here’s to the fuck-ups that call themselves dads.”

I shake my head, but touch my can to his when he lowers it before taking a sip.

“Any idea when Indi moved to town?” Marcus asks quietly. My eyes snap to him, my heart suddenly beating harder than before.

“Recently, I guess. I think she’s family of the Davis’s,” I say, coming around the island and leaning against it beside him. I’ve got about half an inch on him, but that’s never seemed to bug him.

When Marcus doesn’t say anything, I glance at him from the corner of my eye. He’s gone all stiff, face leeched of color. “What’s wrong?” I say through a chuckle.

“Nothing,” Marcus says hurriedly, pushing away from the island. He grins at me, and I wonder if I was imagining things. The light in this place can be a little too white sometimes. “Thinking of something else.”

Fuck. What is it going to take to get his mind off his prick of a dad?

“Tell you what,” I say, lifting my beer can and pointing at him with a finger. “Let’s plan phase two.”

Marcus’s smile widens into something approaching manic. “Did you see the video today?”

I shake my head, gulping down more of my beer as Marcus rummages in his sweats for his phone. He beckons me with a finger, turning and resting his elbows on the marble counter of the island as a video starts playing on his phone’s massive touchscreen.

The shot jiggles a little, and then steadies.

“What the fuck are those?—”

“Lenses, dude. Or filters, or some shit, I dunno. Dylan’s girl is fucking obsessed with the shit.”

I crane closer, a slow smile spreading on my lips.

Cindy must have been quite close to get such a good shot of Indi on her knees. But whatever she did to the video, it introduced a pair of dog ears and a shiny nose to both me and Indi’s faces.

It honestly looks like she’s begging, and I’m standing over her smirking like a fucking king.

I bark out a laugh, and then snatch the phone from Marcus’s hands, replaying the video.

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