Page 27 of Bad Boy
“Lincoln James. What on earth are you wearing?” Mom furrows her brow, and I peer down at my wrinkled clothes.
“Who is this boy, Lincoln? And what is he doing in our house, eating our food?” Questions on top of questions, per usual.
Remi snorts at that. I turn to him, widening my eyes and silently begging him to benice.
“I was hungry.” He tucks the water bottle under his arm and picks up half the sandwich. He hands it to me, then takes a massive bite of the other half, chewing with his mouth open.
I’m starving too, so I take a bite. We both stand in wrinkled, dirty sweats, eating ham sandwiches in front of my flabbergasted parents.
Mom’s mouth is gaping comically, and Dad’s face is starting to turn a vibrant shade of red.
An inappropriate giggle bubbles up from that awkward place inside me that misinterprets social cues and laughs at inopportune times. It escapes my mouth, along with some bread crumbs, and Mom’s shock turns into a horrified sneer.
Remi bursts out laughing, his deep chuckles rolling through me. He actually seems to like me this way, and I couldn’t even tell you why.
“I don’t know who this boy is or what’s gotten into you, Lincoln, but you need to cut it out this instant. We have a charity dinner to attend tonight.” She glances at Remi dismissively. “As a family.”
After the day I had, I just can’t.
“No,” Remi declares, speaking up for me and voicing what I can’t say for myself. “He’s not going anywhere tonight.”
“Alright, that is enough. You will not disrespect my wife or me in our own home.” Dad’s nostrils flare as he stalks toward us with a determined look. He’s a couple of inches taller than Remi but not nearly as muscular. He looks like a forty-something version of me with his auburn hair, glasses, and fair skin.
I need to stop this before it gets any worse.
“This is Mr. Keller’s grandson, Remi, who just moved here two days ago and started at my school!” I shout in a single breath.
It gets the job done and halts Dad’s progress, making him change his tune instantaneously. He’s always wanted to acquire some of Richard’s businesses and bring them into Anderson Holdings. He’s never been able to achieve that, but I know exactly what he’s thinking. I can practically see the wheels turning in his head.
Remi’s his way in.
I’mhis way in.
Dad clears his throat and adjusts his tie, loosening it slightly. “I’m disappointed you kept this from us, Lincoln.” Then he turns to Remi with his usual insincere smile fixed in place. “Please excuse my son—”
“I’ll excuseyoufor nearly calling the cops on me for making a fucking sandwich,” Remi snaps back before taking an obnoxiously large bite of said sandwich. I roll my lips inward and push my glasses up, waiting for Dad’s response.
He sputters, cheeks turning pink. He doesn’t know how to handle Remi. I mean,Ibarely know how to handle Remi.
Dad won’t apologize to anyone.Ever.So he changes the subject instead.
And per usual, he presents an objectivehedesires in a way that seems like a favor or special invitation, always ensuring he gets what he wants. It’s part of the reason Anderson Holdings has doubled its annual acquisitions for five years straight.
“Well, Remi. I’d like to get over this little mix-up and invite you to the charity dinner tonight. It’s just your luck, we have an extra seat at the table, and you can keep Lincoln company.”
Remi’s still chewing when he answers casually. “No, thanks.”
Dad tries to play it cool, but the vein in his forehead belies his frustration.
I’ve only known Remi for two days now—granted, we’ve spent nearly every moment together and donethings—but I already know he won’t do anything he doesn’t want to.
“Well, I suppose it’s a school night and late notice,” Dad reasons to himself. “But I’d like to reach out to your grandfather and set up dinner. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Richard and years since anyone has seen your mother. It would be great to catch up. Have you met Grady and Sierra? I’ll invite their family as well.”
“The Forsythes, too,” Mom adds in, and I stop this before it becomes an event planning session.
“We’re goin’ back upstairs now. We need to study.”
“Of course, Lincoln. We can discuss this later. Your studies come first.”
