Page 6 of Tempt Thy Neighbor

Dean fights his own smile and takes my empty cup. “Breakfast before your interview today?”

I’ve spent the last week scouring the internet for jobs around town. There’s not much, but I was able to find an open position at a marketing firm.

It’s another reason I was up half the night—nerves.

I haven’t had to interview somewhere since I was a damn teenager, and that was for a part-time gig at a smoothie shop in high school.

“Only if you buy,” I tell him.

“Mooch.”

“You love me.”

“Debatable.” He spins on his heel. “Now go shower. Your stench is scaring Morris.”

I hear a meow, like the little shit is agreeing with him.

I lift my arm, taking a whiff.

“Ugh.” I wrinkle my nose at my stench.

Well, that’s a new low for me, which is saying something since it’s been a shitty few weeks.

First priority: a shower.

Then I’ll conquer the world.

2

Sutton

Six months.

All I had to do was wait six more months until my trust fund kicked in.

Six more months of living under their rules. Doing what they wanted. Playing the dutiful son who wasn’t slowly dying inside.

That was all I had to endure, and I couldn’t fucking do it.

If you’d asked me just five days ago where I saw myself this weekend, I’d have told you at a bar surrounded by beautiful women and expensive booze, trying to blow off some steam.

I certainly would not have said staying in a hotel, sitting at an old diner I’d normally never be caught dead in, and applying for every job I come across.

And it’s all because I couldn’t keep my shit together for one night.

To be fair, I was goaded. My older brother, Thomas, was antagonizing me the entire night, flaunting his wife—my ex-girlfriend, but that’s a whole different story—in front of me and tossing barbs my way about what a sack of shit I am.

After my dad laid into me for something I didn’t do, I was slamming drinks left and right to cope with having to be buttoned up in yet another stuffy suit and dealing with my family parading around like the royalty they aren’t.

After seven rum and Cokes that were light on the Coke, I was sloshed, and all it took was one more comment to set me off.

Of course, I could have saved punching Thomas for another time other than my father’s charity banquet. And sure, I probably shouldn’t have run from the security guards, hopped on my dad’s boat, and gunned it into the harbor like an idiot.

But that’s exactly what happened.

The rebel Barnes son causing yet another scene? Yeah, I was toast.

The locks to the penthouse I’ve been living in—provided I’m a good puppet for dear old Mom and Dad—were changed before I even got home. When I finally managed to crawl my way over there the next morning, I found my things sitting outside the front door.

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