Page 125 of Starstruck
Especiallynot the son-of-a-bitch sitting in the defendant’s chair right now.
My father.
The man who drove drunk a year ago and then crashed, killing our mother—who was in the passenger seat—instantly.
Sometimes I’m grateful I grew up poor and unpopular. It means that when bad things happen, shit like your father killing your mother, no one knows about it. And since the world knows me as Baxter James, they’ll be hard pressed to dig up any dirt on me.
But there are downfalls of coming from a family of nobodies. The biggest one being that it’s taken nearly a year for us to get here. The justice system moves slowly on a good day, but when your family has no money or power to speed things up, they move even slower.
I could’ve used my name to get here faster, but that would mean admitting to the public who my family is. And that’s the last thing I wanted to do.
So we’ve waited a year for this day. After today, all of this willbe over and Logan and I can finally move on with our lives. Logan turns eighteen next month, which means I’ll be able to leave on the tour my label has been pushing for since I signed with them. We just have to get through today.
I didn’t even want to come to my dad’s trial—I already know they’ll find him guilty. His blood-alcohol content was well above the legal limit, and he wrapped the car around a street light post. No other cars were involved, as confirmed by the cameras at the intersection.
I may never know for sure exactly what happened in that vehicle before the accident, but I know one thing for certain: my father is guilty. The only reason I’m here is to make sure the bastard really does go down for taking our one solid parent away from us.
“Mr. Jameson, you’re being charged with one count of driving under the influence and one count of impaired driving causing death,” the judge states, pulling my attention back to the present.
I keep my eyes trained on my father, gritting my teeth as she continues. “I have been presented with and reviewed all of the evidence, and I have determined that you are guilty of this crime. Since you have one prior impaired driving charge on your record, pled ‘not guilty’ at your first appearance earlier this year, and had a blood-alcohol content of over zero-point-one-six, you’re being sentenced to eleven years in prison with a chance of parole after six.”
My dad barks a laugh from where he sits at the front of the room.
“That’s light work,” he jokes before turning to look toward my brother and I, smiling.
I ball my fists as I watch him, disgusted by the man standing in front of me. And when he says, “You know, if that’s my punishment, I’m glad your mom’s dead,” it takes everything in me not to storm up there and punch the sleazy look off his face.
“See you in six years, boys.”
He laughs again as the court officer drags him away.
That’s when I look at Logan.
“Fucking scum—” I start to say, assuming his features mirror mine.
But when I notice the smile filling his face mimics the one that was on our fathers, I realize I don’t recognize the guy looking back at me.
My brows pull together.
“What are you smiling about?” I ask, even though I already know the answer. Logan’s been fading away before my very eyes for a year now, and this is the breaking point.
He shrugs, looking at me with our father’s brown eyes. “I hope he gets out early. The bitch deserved what she got, and Dad doesn’t deserve to be punished for doing what we couldn’t.”
I blink a few times, wondering if I heard him right.
Did he just say our mom deserved to die? Thathewishes he could’ve killed her himself?
The next thing I know, my hands are wrapped around his throat. Pushing him back against the bench, I stare into his eyes as I grit out, “Take that back, you motherfucker.”
He gasps for air over my grip, but the grin on his face grows, and that’s when I’m certain the brother I once knew died with our mom.
A court officer is on me a moment later, pulling me off Logan. I push him away before he can say anything as Logan coughs. Shaking my head, I storm toward the door, ready to forget everything and everyone I once knew.
“Hey, wait,” Logan calls out.
With my hand on the doorknob, I freeze, hoping the past ten minutes have all just been in my head.
But when he says, “We’re both just like Dad, Baxter. It’d do you well to stop pretending you aren’t,” it’s clear the brother I grew up with is gone. He has been for a long time, and it’s time I finally see him for who he truly is.
