Page 13 of Twisted Kings

6

Landon

My head hurt like a bitch.Damn. What the fuck had I drunk last night? Oh, wait. Yes, it was all coming back to me now. The ball, the sex tape, the fire, and my father’s meltdown.

I hadn’t expected him to lose his shit over a stupid sex tape, but it turned out that Elaine had seen the tape and thrown a jealous tantrum, unhappy I was fucking a much hotter and younger woman while pretending to be into her.

Like, what did she expect? Elaine was a job, nothing more. Was she delusional enough to think I genuinely liked her?

Apparently so.

Jeeze.

So after reaming my father out, she’d pulled her endorsement and made it very clear the other members of the judging committee took her lead when deciding who was a worthy winner of the Whiskey of the Year award.

Fuck my life.

Dad hadn’t quite disinherited me, but I was skating damn close to the red line. One more fuck-up, he’d warned me, and I could kiss goodbye to my fancy education, black Amex card, andall the other accouterments that came with being a Rothmore heir.

College could go fuck itself, but losing my Amex would fucking hurt. The thought of applying for minimum wage jobs like a sad fucker made me sad. Really sad. So sad I needed another whiskey to soothe my gaping emotional wound.

Kyril burst into my room, blocking the light from the hallway with his bulk. For once, I didn’t bother bitching. I’d drunk the last of the whiskey stashed in my nightstand, so unless I felt like going cold turkey, a trip to the kitchen was on the cards.

“Get your ass out of bed. We have shit to do.”

“I am out of bed,” I muttered, dragging on some shorts while wondering if my stomach could handle a fried breakfast. “What do we have to do, anyway? Classes have been canceled.” Much of last night remained a foggy mess in my head, but I did recall someone saying that all remaining classes were canceled and students were encouraged to leave campus ASAP.

Normally, this would have been fantastic, but my father had made it clear I wasn’t welcome at home. I hadn’t bothered inquiring whether he meant indefinitely. He and Mom had a trip to Courchevel planned on the 26th, so I’d stay here for now and then slope back home once the coast was clear.

Yeah, it would be sad spending the holidays here, but I wouldn’t be the only one. Alan Chan usually hung around campus over Christmas. His family didn’t celebrate Christmas for religious reasons, so he never went home for the holiday. Poor bastard.

Maybe Chan and I could hang out. Share sad stories of parental neglect. Smoke a few blunts. Sink a few crates of whiskey.

Yeah. That seemed like a plan I could get on board with. Chan didn’t have many friends. I bet he’d love it if I offered to be his bestie. I’d heard on the grapevine he liked to play Minecraft andwatch anime, neither of which were my thing, but I was nothing if not adaptable.

I figured anime was a boring version of hentai, and since I loved hentai, anime might be OK.

“Have you watched any anime lately?” I asked Kyril as he walked into the kitchen, heading for the coffee machine. He turned to look at me, confusion on his face, but I pressed on.

“The cartoon stuff. I hear Alan Chan is into it.”

Kyril stared at me some more, the coffee machine temporarily forgotten.

“Who’s Alan Chan and why do you care what he watches for kicks?”

I shrugged while popping some bread in the toaster. A few specks of mold dotted the pasty white surface but nothing I couldn’t handle. Mold was penicillin, right? I definitely needed some antibiotics after last night’s bender.

“Some loser. He and I are probably spending Christmas together, so I’m planning ahead.”

Ignoring the nasty, roiling sensation in my stomach, I slapped some butter on my moldy toast and forced it down my throat. Kyril’s lip curled with judgmental disgust, but I paid him no attention. Just because he treated his body like a fucking temple didn’t mean the rest of us were so virtuous.

An image of Thea eating her favorite breakfast pancakes popped into my brain, but I ignored it. That bitch was dead to me, even if what I wanted to do was hold her in my arms and whisper that everything would be OK. My dick reminded me we wanted to fuck her again, too, but I wasn’t listening to that traitorous shit.

“Landon’s lost his shit,” Kyril told Milo. “He’s eating moldy toast and muttering about anime.”

“Don’t you mean hentai? He loves hentai. I’ve picked up several Japanese phrases from listening to his beat-off sessions.”Milo said something that sounded vaguely rude in Japanese and then stole my cup of coffee, which did nothing to improve my mood.

“And moldy bread won’t kill him,” Milo continued while making oatmeal. He decided last year that since we were in Scotland, oatmeal was the only acceptable breakfast option. Only instead of adding cream and honey, he made his with water and salt.

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