Page 8 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part One

“That’s crap and you know it. You’d never give up on something like that. This is your brain saying you’re not worthy of that life. You can’t let it win.Wecan’t let it win. I need my best friend, my brother. I need you to live up to your potential, live your fucking dreams. If not for you, then do it for me. Someone’s dreams need to come true.” He ends his speech in a grim tone that has me shifting in my seat. He knows how to get to me because I want him to live his dreams as well, dreams we once shared. Well, we still do, only his dad will never let that happen. James Tucker will never let that happen. He needs an heir, not a dreamer.

“You can still go to med school. You can tell your father to go fuck himself.” Jensen has the only father in the world that thinks that becoming a doctor isn’t good enough.

“Yeah, maybe,” he agrees, but he’s saying that so he doesn’t sound like me and can keep his point alive.

He’s right though. No matter how deep this spiral goes, I will get better one day. Despite how I view myself most of the time, my life has been shit and I deserve something good. If anything, I need to show Gramma that her efforts to take me in and raise me weren’t for nothing.

I’ll let it stand for today. I can’t promise anything tomorrow.

“So what, you’re going to quit school and become a bike mechanic?”

“Maybe I am. What, is that not good enough for you?” Jensen narrows his stormy eyes at me, the gray swirling with annoyance.

“You know damn well I don’t give a fuck about how much money you make, but no, you becoming a bike mechanic when you’re a genius is not good enough,” he growls and unravels the utensils. They clank onto the ancient tabletop, bouncing until they finally settle. Light glints off the butter knife. He rips into the napkin without saying another word, and I can see I’ve truly pissed him off. Jensen has never cared where I come from or ever judged me for the holes in my clothes.

“I know, I’m sorry. I can’t think about school anymore right now.”

“Let’s change the subject. We have time to think about that shit. Right now, let’s focus on tonight and how fucking shitfaced we’re gonna get. James is out of town, so the mansion is open. I was thinking of a small party? We could get Layla over here and get her crawling on you and that one friend of hers. I can’t ever remember her name.” He frowns, staring down at the table while he tries to force her name.Such a player.

For once, Layla didn’t seem like such an exciting time. I couldn’t put my finger on why. Since I started at Bleudale freshman year of high school and Jensen took me under his wing, Layla has been all over me—a great girl and a fantastic fuck. I have always been her obsession, even though she knows I want nothing more than something to stick my dick into. She says she gets it, but sometimes she still gets clingy. I ignore it because she’s what I need for taking my mind elsewhere. For nothing more than relief. I don’t need relationships. Screw that. I tried, but they do nothing other than trigger me, so I steer clear.

“Drinking sounds good,” I agree, keeping my thoughts to myself. I don’t need him worrying anymore than he already is.

CHAPTER5

RIGGS

There arepeople covering the first floor of the Tucker mansion. Small party, my ass. I should’ve known better because Jensen doesn’t know what the word small means. Nothing about his life has ever been small—always overdone, always over the top, just like his personality.

Which is why he’s yelling shots at the top of his lungs like a crazed bartender who just saw the bride-to-be’s tits. He waves me over and all but tosses me one of the tiny glasses. I pass it off to some blonde chick who’s shorts might as well be panties and her bikini top, well that’s mere strips of fabric covering her rock hard nipples. She’s hot, don’t get me wrong, I see why she has guys hanging all over her, but sloppy drunk just isn’t my thing. I like my girls a little more reserved and coherent when I fuck them.

Swaying, she throws back the shot and chokes. When she’s cleared her throat, she grabs my hand, picking it up with my palm flat. She eyes it like there might be three or four there, and after a second or two, the glass teeters on the edge. I grip it tight to avoid dropping it and chuckle.

“Thank you, handsome,” she slurs through a smile, then stumbles off toward the pool.Great. Just what we need, a drunk bimbo drowning in the pool for Mr. Tucker to come back to. Sober isn’t a problem for me, because I’m not sober by any means. I’ve blown through the baggy of weed I had brought. I’d much rather smoke than drink. The out-of-control reaction I get with alcohol doesn’t suit me. Plus, I can look after Jensen because I’m not the only one burying my feelings tonight. No doubt the conversation this afternoon at the diner opened up his wounds just as much as it tried to heal mine. I’m not the only one who hates life.

We just handle those feelings differently.

So, I let him be the one to get shit faced tonight. My anxiety has calmed for a bit, thanks to the weed and the need to watch over everyone. Christian Tucker’s wrath is not high on my list of things I enjoy.

Walking around with a trash bag picking up stray cans and empty plastic cups that have made their way into the most peculiar places, I hear my name hollered over the loud music.

Layla.

Normally, that thought would have me hard in seconds. Layla is sexy, and she knows how to get me off like no one else. But like I said earlier, I’m just not interested today. I don’t see how the hell I’m going to tell her. She doesn’t take rejection well. Which I sort of understand because I don’t often, if ever, turn her down. I’m typically ready to take what she offers.

Her arm slides around my waist, and her tits meet my back. She kisses my spine, moving her hand to my dick. Blood rushes there and I sigh. At least I’ll have a hard on when I reject her, and she won’t think it’s her fault. She strokes me through my jeans, gripping me hard and squeezing my balls with her other hand. I groan deep in my chest, glancing at her over my shoulder. Even though I don’t want it, I can’t deny that it's fantastic. There are a few eyes on us, a couple of girls licking their lips and running their hands over their bodies. I don’t mind the audience. Sucking me off in public areas is Layla’s thing. But today, I’m not into it.

I rip her hands from me, despite how good it is to have her touching me.

“What the hell?” she fusses, jerking her hand back. Layla’s cheeks burn with rejection when I turn around to face her, blocking her body from prying eyes. A hint of guilt flutters through me, then I try to make myself remember we aren’t exclusive, and I don’t owe her anything. Still, I’m not an asshole.

“Sorry Layla, I’m just not interested tonight.” She reaches out and grabs me, running her fingers over my dick again. I flinch back and snare her wrist, a little tight, but no means no. A gasp escapes her as she tries to pull herself free. Not wanting to be that person, because I’m also not a predator, I release her and take a step back, out of range, so neither of us can touch the other. “I said I’m not interested. I’m trying to clean this place up. Jensen is going to be worthless tomorrow, and I won’t be interested in playing catch up when Daddy Tucker gets home.”

“You want me,” she pouts, and my dick pulses when she bites at her bottom lip. She sways, tilting backwards and even though she is lucid, her pupils are huge and her hands are shaking. Perspiration is glinting on her upper lip and small strands of her dark hair stick to the skin at her hairline. Who knows what she’s on.

Even if I wanted it, screwing will not happen when she’s like this and she knows it. But I also have to be careful with her mental state. Turning to drugs for her only happens when she’s trying to bury something. I guess that’s why we work so well together in the bedroom. Our shadows call to each other. We both screw to get shit out. Layla is the only one who can handle my darkness without judging me. She keeps her mouth shut and doesn’t ask questions.

“Of course I want you Layla, you’re a hot piece of ass. Who wouldn’t want you? But I said not tonight.” Harsh, I know. Turning her down like this doesn’t intrigue me in the slightest. I’m not a total animal, and I don’t want to hurt her. However, it’s imperative she gets the point. I need to keep her detached from me without devastating her. In her state, she’ll suffer the rejection that much more.

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