Page 3 of The Tangle of Awful

I glance over at his shiny car. I don’t know what kind it is, nor do I care. All I know is next time he looks at it, he’ll think of me.

I’m not going away this time.

Not without answers. Not without speaking to Mom. He won’t chase me away.

I grab my suitcase and stalk over to his car. The key in my grip pinks against the metal as I forcefully bump it. Then, I take great satisfaction in the scraping sound as I run it over the paint, gouging a silvery line as I walk, making sure to hit the front panel, door, and back panel. When I reach the trunk, I set the key on top.

I’m not scared of you anymore, Spencer.

With vengeance on my mind, I happily walk down the road, pulling up an Uber on my app along the way. When I reach the end of the street, I sit down on my suitcase, waiting for my ride. Just as the vehicle approaches, I hear Spencer yelling out, “Fucking bitch!”

A crazed giggle escapes me. I’ve just started a war with the devil himself. And, for the first time, I’m not intimidated. He’s just a spoiled, rich shithead. Spencer is nothing like the actual pricks I went to school with when I lived with Dad. He’s all awful, terrible talk. A dog with bark, but no bite.

I climb into the Uber, attempting to reassure myself. My gut feels hollow. Despite my pep talk, I don’t believe it, deep down.

“Where to?” the driver asks.

Fumbling with my phone, I show him the address. The place where I can find the one person who holds power over Spencer. My only ally and someone who can give me real answers.

Hugo Park.

My stepdad.

Spencer

Unbelievable.

Fury, so violent and chaotic, lashes inside of me like a sea storm. My thoughts are thrust back and forth, some of which threaten to flip me overboard altogether.

Breathe, man.

The little girl who used to drive me crazy is back. She’s got some balls, too. A new fire lights up her green eyes, making promises of misery and trouble—which awakens a dormant, dark part of me.

Bring it, little girl.

Oh, she’s brought it. That’s for damn sure.

Scrubbing my palm down over my face, I peek through my fingers, hoping the hideous gouge in my sleek, midnight-black BMW 8 Series will miraculously be gone.

Nope.

Still. Fucking. There.

I can’t believe she keyed my car. If she hadn’t left her evidence on the trunk, I wouldn’t have believed Aubrey even had it in her.

She’s a princess.

Fragile, delicate, weak.

Not vindictive. That’s more her mother.

Apparently, she’s changed, which means I’m dealing with a whole new enemy here. And while I’ve always been able to outsmart her, she’s persistent. That is, until she reaches her breaking point. Two years ago, I pushed her to that point, happily not having to speak to her until now.

Based on the fiery indignation I was met with moments ago and the fact she keyed my car, I think it’s safe to assume she’s far from running back home with her tail tucked between her legs.

Time to up my game.

I take a few pictures of my car before sending them to my grandfather. Nathan Park is the powerful, throbbing vein that connects the Park family. Our influence over this town is solely because of him. His own father, though still a force, didn’t compare to how my pops rules Park Mountain, Washington.

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