Page 7 of You Again
Chapter 4
Dash~
“The only reason you’re still alive is because I don’t want to upset Mom,” Scott said. “With Aaron still deployed, she’d miss you. But once he’s done with the Marines, all bets are off.” I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t the first time my brother has threatened me, but lately he’s been sounding more serious than normal.
“I just don’t understand why you need me for this shit, Scott,” I said, tired of the same conversation. “I’m the workhorse and you’re the brain. That’s the deal. Why do I need to go to some marketing meeting?”
“Because we’re marketing your visions, Dash,” he sighed. “Advertisement isn’t about the numbers, business laws, or profit and losses. It’s about promoting your visions. You’re a software developer who incorporates computer networking architecture with self-security analysis. You sell your shit for millions, Dash. My degree is in business management, not marketing or computer science. You need to go to this meeting, so you can explain to them what it is you’re selling and how you want it presented to the world.”
“I’m busy,” I lied, hating how he was right. I’d always been good with computers and had caught on early when I was younger. I had chased my passion to college and before I had even graduated from Stanford, I had sold a security software program to our very own U.S. Government that had launched me into a multi-millionaire.
It had been fucking nuts.
I was lucky, though. Scott, being three years older than me, had watched out for me when the money had come in. Mom and Dad had been great with their advice, but they hadn’t wanted to overstep. Scott Sr. and Hope Weston had continued working, my dad as a structural engineer, and my mom as a P.E. coach, because they weren’t the type of people to capitalize on their children’s success. So, while they hadn’t let me lavish them with money, I had still insisted on paying off their house and cars, and they had graciously let me do it.
My younger brother, Aaron, had already been eighteen and committed to the Marines, so he got a weekly package to wherever he was in the world. But, honestly, even without the money, we’d have done that for him anyway. Mom struggled with having a son in the military, but she channeled all her mom instincts to protect her baby into being strong for him and pretending she didn’t worry about him every minute of every day.
So, it had been Scott who had made sure gold-diggers and fake ‘bros’ everywhere hadn’t taken advantage of my success. Since he had already graduated and had been working for a securities investment firm, he had taken over my money and has been doing it ever since. Once I graduated from college with my degree, we had started Weston Technologies, with him handling the legal and business end of things, and me being the creator of whatever popped into my mind to create.
“You are not busy,” he argued. “You haven’t been busy in three months, Dash.”
“That’s not true,” I automatically denied.
“Oh, but it is,” he countered. “Now, don’t get me wrong. It’s not like we need the money or anything, but I haven’t seen you take this much down time in years. And that’s saying something since we’ve been at this for almost fifteen years.”
“Bullshit,” I bit out. “I’ve been plenty busy. I’m still fine tuning the software for Telecorp and I’m still working on that new child-protection blocker.” The silence on the other end of the phone was telling.
After a few seconds, Scott felt the need to point out the obvious. “Can you count, Dash?” he asked, like the dick he was. “Because I can. And with that magical skill I can tell you that you are currently working on two projects-one that’s almost completed, except for a few tweaks. Two, Dash.” My entire body collapsed against my chair, and my head dropped back, wishing I could tune the sonofabitch out. “Since we’ve started Weston Technologies, you’ve never had short of five different projects going on. You thrive on this shit. So, don’t tell me you’re fucking too busy to attend a one-hour meeting tomorrow.”
He wasn’t wrong, but I had middle-child syndrome, so I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. “How do you know?” I retorted childishly. “You don’t understand creative minds. I could be busy.”
Scott let out a deep sigh and it was the same sound he made whenever Mom and Dad had needed him to watch me and Aaron. It was his these-aren’t-my-kids-why-do-I-need-to-watch-them sigh. “Look, Dash, I don’t know what’s crawled up your ass these past few months but snap the fuck out of it. I’m willing to give your creative genius only so much leeway,” he said. “Christ, you probably just need to go out and get laid.” I thanked Jesus and all his little baby angels up in Heaven that he couldn’t see my face on that one.
My mind automatically went back to that night at The Lux with Henley Don’t-Know-Her-Last-Name. It had been-hands down-the best sex of my entire life, and I’m fucking thirty-three-years-old. I went to college, for Christ’s sake. I’ve had my fair share of pussy even if I was, technically, a computer geek. But that night with Henley had surpassed anything I’d ever experienced before. Granted, my ego had been shredded to bits and I had been fighting for my manhood, but it had still rocked the fuck out of my world.
In the past three months, I have jacked off to her memory more times than I’d prefer to count. I had no idea what demons had been plaguing her that night, but she had given as good as I had given it to her, and I haven’t been able to get a hard dick without thinking of her since.
Scott was right. I needed to get laid, but my dick only wanted a man-hating, fiery redhead with a pussy that tasted like every perverted teenage fantasy I ever had.
When I had woken up alone, I had told myself it was for the best. I had convinced myself that I really didn’t want more from a woman who clearly had a very low opinion of men. I didn’t need that kind of stress in my life.
No man did.
Sure, I figured she had been hurt somehow by some douchebag that night, but her hate for the entire male gender had been extreme, and I didn’t do extreme. I needed a calm life because work was my main focus. It was one of the reasons I had believed Whitney and I had been so compatible. She had never complained about how much I worked. But, in hindsight, now I know why.
“Don’t worry about my dick action,” I retorted, still put out a little because Henley had snuck out and my dick had really wanted an ‘atta boy’ after that bullshit with Whitney.
Scott sighed again. “This isn’t about Whitney, is it?”
I snorted. “No. Nothing in my life is about her anymore.”
“Good,” he replied. “She was a plastic bitch who never appreciated you anyway.” Scott had not been Whitney’s biggest fan. None of my family had been. They had tolerated her because she had been my girlfriend, but that had been about it. I had chalked it up to them just not knowing her the way I did. Turns out, I was the one who didn’t know her.
“I just have a lot on my mind, Scott,” I lied. “I’m fine, though.”
“You’re lying, but that’s okay,” he said. “You’ll tell me eventually.”
Not this time, I wanted to say. There was no way I was going to tell him I had a one-night stand, and she had snuck out on me. I’d never hear the fucking end of it. It wasn’t the one-night stand that was the problem, though. It was that Henley hadsnuckout. That had led to questions I didn’t have the right to the answers. My conscience prayed she had been cheated on and it hadn’t been just an argument between her and her boyfriend, or something small like that. I wasn’t that guy who didn’t care if a woman was taken. I cared. Even before the Whitney debacle, I was never very understanding when it came to cheating. If you didn’t want to be with someone, then don’t fucking be with them. Seemed pretty simple.
