Bully Me: Class of 2020 Read online

  “How much is it?” Bo asks, wiping the counter down and purposely ignoring the guy at his back calling for his attention.

  “More than we can afford.”

  “We can fundraise,” he suggests. “I know the owner would let us use the bar.” He shoots me a sympathetic look as he walks off to serve the now irate customer.

  “And my uncle would let us organize something at the shop,” Xena adds.

  “Thank you, and I might take you up on that.” I drink another mouthful of beer.

  “We should brainstorm.” She taps her fingers on the counter, looking off into space. “You could stay over at our place Saturday night after the club, and we can put our heads together over breakfast Sunday morning?”

  I haven’t been out on a Saturday night in months, and I’m only going because it’s my twenty-second birthday, and Xena, the sneaky cow, went behind my back to Dad to arrange the night out when I politely declined his previous suggestion.

  “I’ll see if that’s okay with Mrs. Griffin.” I was planning on coming home even though Dad’s caregiver is already staying the night. If she’s okay staying a couple of hours extra on Sunday morning, I can swing it.

  Truth is, I need all the help I can get, and four brains are definitely better than one.

  “That asshole Barron should be coughing up for the treatment and all your dad’s medical bills.”

  “It happened before he became president,” I say although I’m not defending him, per se. “But you’re right, the company has a lot to answer for.”

  Strictly speaking, they didn’t do anything illegal with the information we had to hand at the time. After Dad had his stroke, the doctors believed he might have brain damage. The company grabbed that assumption and ran with it, approaching Dad with an exit offer considering he was now incapable of working.

  They gave him a generous severance package and washed their hands of him with a clear conscience.

  But they could’ve changed their minds after the test results came back clear of brain injury. Because my dad gave them years and years of his loyal service, and when he needed them to have his back, they kicked him to the curb without a second glance. If he still had his premium medical insurance, the cancer bombshell we’ve just been hit with would be different because he’d be able to enter the trial and he might have a fighting chance. Without it, there is little hope, and it’s just one more reason to hate the offspring of the late CEO.

  _______________

  “Hey, Dad.” I lean down and kiss his cheek. “How are you today?” I plop down on the couch beside him, taking his hands in mine.

  “All the better for seeing my sweet girl,” he replies, squeezing my fingers. I hate how frail his touch has become. How lined his face now seems. How gaunt his cheekbones are. And how his clothes hang from his much thinner frame.

  Dad had adapted after the stroke, and he was learning to live with it. But now, the cancer bomb has been dropped in his lap, and he’s struggling to stay positive. I hate that I didn’t see it. That we didn’t have the money to go for monthly checkups instead of biannual appointments. Perhaps, they might have caught it earlier. When it could be treated more easily and without resorting to some new experimental drug trial which we’ve been told is his only chance at prolonging his life.

  “How was your day?” he adds. “I hope young Charles is treating my princess good.”

  I smother a snort. I don’t want Dad worrying, so I’ve told him nothing about the way Charlie Barron treats me. “He’s a good boss,” I lie.

  “He was always a good kid,” Dad says. “Troubled, but his heart seemed to be in the right place.”

  Oh, Dad. If only you knew.

  “You two have a lot in common.”

  My mouth falls open. “Like what?” I splutter.

  “He’s had to grow up fast too. He’s carrying the burden for his family the same way you are.”

  My features soften. “You’re not a burden, Dad. I love you, and I’m right where I want to be.”

  Tears fill his eyes, and a lump the size of a bus wedges in my throat.

  “When my time comes, I’ll die a happy man knowing I did one right thing in this world. You make me so very proud, Demitria. Please don’t let this change you.”

  “I hate the unfairness of it all,” I truthfully admit. “You’re the best person I know, Dad, and you don’t deserve this. Deserve any of the hardships life has thrown at you.”

  “My life has been full, honey, and I’ll die with no regrets because I got to share my life with you and my Luana. I’m luckier than most.”

  A strangled sob pierces through the air, and we both look around. Mrs. Griffin is standing in the doorway, clutching her chest, her navy-blue eyes flooded with moisture. “I’m sorry,” she cries. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I just wanted to have a word with Demi before I left, and I didn’t want to interrupt such a beautiful moment.”

  “It’s fine, Nora,” Dad says. “Don’t ever feel the need to apologize around here.”

  “I’m good to talk now,” I say, kissing Dad on the cheek again. “Do you need me to get you anything, Dad?”

  “I’m good, sweetheart. I’ll just watch the end of this documentary before bed.”

  I squeeze his hand before I walk out into the kitchen with his caregiver.

  “Your father is one of a kind, Demi,” she says. “Truly a beautiful, gentle soul. I’m not sure I could be quite as understanding in his condition.”

  “Nor me,” I agree, switching the coffee pot on. “He inspires me every day.” I might not share his belief or his faith in a god who would do this to him, but the way he’s handled things since his stroke is genuinely admirable. I really do believe in positive mental attitude and my dad has that in spades.

  “I filled that new script today,” she says, pointing at the clear plastic box on top of the counter. “And I divided it into the different days and times.” She opens the box, taking out a blue and a white tablet. “He’s to take these with water just before bed.”

  I nod, taking them from her. “I’ll make sure he takes them.”

  “And he now has to take those two green ones, in addition to his usual meds, after his breakfast.”

  I bob my head. “Got it.” Mrs. Griffin arrives early on weekdays so I can leave for work, but I’m Dad’s primary caregiver over the weekends, so I need to be fully up to speed on this stuff.

  “Okay, kiddo.” She presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’m off. I’ll see you bright and early tomorrow morning.”

  “Thank you, Nora.” I hug her. “I mean it. Thank you for everything. We’re so lucky to have found you.”

  When Dad was in the hospital, after his stroke, I had placed signs in a few local stores looking for a caregiver while I figured out what to do about school. Nora was the first woman to make contact, and I warmed to her immediately. Dad did too. And we both knew we didn’t need to interview anyone else. Her credentials were amazing, she lived locally, and we both just got a good feeling about her.

  “It works both ways, honey,” she says, returning my hug. “I’m glad to have you and your dad in my life.” She shucks out of my embrace, tenderly brushing hair out of my face. “I consider you family, and I hope you know I’ll always be here for you.”

  Because once Dad is gone, I’m all that’s left. Everyone else is dead.

  She doesn’t say it, but she doesn’t have to.

  Dad’s words return to me, and I suppose that’s something else Charlie and I have in common.

  We’re both alone, because his dad is dead and his mom and sister have moved to Arizona, and, if the rumors are to be believed, he’s not on speaking terms with either of them.

  But that is where the similarities end.

  On this occasion, I think Dad is wrong, because Charlie and I are nothing alike—except for the mutual hatred we share for one another.

  Chapter 3

  Charlie

  “WE CAN ALWAYS go back to my place if y
ou’re not enjoying it here,” Emilia purrs in my ear while her hand inches higher up my thigh.

  “We’re staying,” I grit out, removing her hand before she touches my dick. If she notices how grumpy I am tonight, she doesn’t mention it. I suspect she’s holding out hope I’m looking for more than casual fucking because I’ve called on her a lot more lately. It’s only because I’m low on options and too lazy to actively recruit new fuck buddies. But there isn’t a hope in hell she and I will ever be anything more.

  In fact, after tonight, I think I’ll be crossing her off my list permanently. I’ve grown tired of fucking her, and she’s lost all appeal.

  Strobe lights crisscross overhead as hypnotic beats bounce off the walls of the club. I’ve never been to this part of town before, and it’s my first foray in here, but I like it. It’s a far cry from the glitzy places I’m used to frequenting with the elite, but I like the industrial-type styling and the grungy vibe in the air.

  The clientele is a strange bunch, and I’m sure this place has seen its fair share of fights and deals, but I’m cool with that. It’s tame compared to the shit I’ve seen at elite events and stuff I’ve been forced to participate in at Parkhurst.

  “You seem jumpy,” Emilia adds, trailing her hands up my chest. Her long, blonde hair falls in straight lines across one shoulder as she repositions herself on the stool. “And you’re so tense.” She digs her fingers into the corded muscle of my shoulders, and I flinch, recoiling at her touch.

  “Stop.” My face is a mask of indifference as I push her hands away. “Sit down, drink your drink, and only talk when I tell you to.” I’m being a total prick, but I don’t care. Her inane chatter is giving me a headache. I should’ve come here alone, but I’m not sure what to expect, and I thought she might come in useful.

  Coming to this club was an impulsive decision. One I’m regretting. But I’m here now, so I might as well wait for Demi to arrive.

  When I overheard her making plans to celebrate her birthday, I had no intention of showing my face. But I was climbing the walls at home, bored out of my skull, rattling around that large, empty house, and I craved a change of scenery.

  I pull out my cell, discreetly checking the app, pleased to see she’s only a mile away.

  Adding a tracking device to her private cell is a blatant invasion of her privacy and something that would land me in hot water with the board of directors if it ever got out. But this isn’t my first surveillance rodeo. I know how to cover my tracks, and there’s no way anyone could trace it back to me.

  I told myself I installed it so I could fuck with her head a little more. However, she’d have to step outside her front door for me to mess with her, and the woman barely goes anywhere. Work and home are the sum of her existence, so tonight’s excursion intrigued me.

  And I want a front-row seat to the action.

  My cell pings in my hand, pulling me out of my head as a call comes through. My finger hovers over the mute button until I see the caller ID. Shit timing, but there’s no way I’m ignoring my little sister’s call. She’s only recently started talking to me again.

  “Stay put,” I tell Emilia, clicking my fingers at the bar man, gesturing at him to refill her drink.

  I pick up the call. “Hey, Lil. I can’t talk here. Give me a second to walk outside.” Her response is drowned out by the noise as I push my way through the crowd toward the main entrance door.

  “Are you okay?” I ask the second I’m outside where it’s a lot quieter.

  “I’m good,” Lil replies. “Where are you?”

  I nod at the bouncers by the door, walking off to the left and wedging myself into the shadowy corner of the building. I cradle the phone to my ear as I flatten my back against the wall. “At a club over on the west side.”

  “Mischief?” she asks.

  “Yeah, that’s the place.”

  “I’ve heard it’s cool. All my friends have tried to get in, but they’re, like, super strict.”

  “You will not be getting within one hundred miles of this place, Lil. It’s definitely not suitable.”

  I was exposed to way worse at fifteen, but it’s why I go out of my way to ensure Lil is protected from all that.

  Mom may want nothing to do with me anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped caring. I have a team of guys watching my family twenty-four-seven, and they report to me daily. I don’t want to worry Mom, but the elite threat hasn’t evaporated with Dad’s death or the FBI investigation. The new president is rebuilding the organization behind the front he presents to the authorities, and the danger is still ever present.

  “Have you forgotten I live in Phoenix now?” Her dour tone vibrates down the line.

  “Hardly, pumpkin. I miss your ugly face.”

  I can almost feel her smile down the line. “I miss your grumpy ass too. I hate this, Charlie. Isn’t there anything you can do to make her talk to you?”

  I sigh, rubbing at the sudden sharp pain in my chest. “I can’t force her to forgive me.”

  “If I can forgive you, so can she,” she blurts.

  “I killed the man she loved, Lil. She might never forgive me.”

  Initial silence greets me. “You didn’t kill Dad, Charlie.” Her voice is low. “That murdering bastard did, and I hope he’s rotting in hell.”

  “I made some bad decisions, and I’m living with the consequences now,” I admit, kicking at a few loose stones on the sidewalk with the toe of my sneaker.

  “She’ll come around,” Lil says. “She has to, because I hate this. I hate living with Aunt Marie and Uncle George. He smells like whiskey and cigarettes, and he creeps me out.”

  My spine turns rigid, and my entire body stiffens. “Has he—”

  “He hasn’t touched me,” she says, cutting across me, “but he looks at me funny sometimes, and I don’t like it.”

  That makes two of us. I make a mental note to call Knox, the guy in charge of the security detail in Phoenix, and request another check into Uncle George’s background.

  When Mom announced she was moving back to Arizona, to live with her older sister and her husband, and that she was taking Lil with her, I had full background checks conducted on both of them to make sure it was safe for my family to move there. Nothing out of the ordinary stuck out, but I want to take another look. I don’t like the sound of this guy, and if he dares lay a finger on my sister, I will kill him with my bare hands. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve taken a life like that, and I wouldn’t waste any sleep worrying about it.

  Now, more than ever, I need to find a way of repairing my fractured relationship with Mom. I want them back home where they belong. Where I can keep a personal watch over them and ensure they are safe.

  “Promise me you’ll call me if anything happens,” I say, as the sound of tinkling laughter greets my eardrums.

  All the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I whip my head around, spotting Demi as she rounds the corner. She’s linking arms with a girl with long purple hair, and they’re both laughing at something the two guys behind them are saying.

  A burning pain rips across my chest wall and a muscle ticks in my jaw, as I stare at the two inked, pierced degenerates, wondering which asshole is Demi’s date, and what fucking hole he crawled out from, because she is always at work or at home, so when the hell did she have time to meet the prick?

  “I promise,” Lil says, dragging me back to the conversation. “If you promise to come visit soon.”

  Irritation prickles at my skin while I watch the small group joke around as they walk toward the entrance to the club. The guy with the dark faux hawk puts his hand on Demi’s lower back as he steers her around a puddle on the ground, and a flare of something close to jealousy burns hotter in my chest. “I’ll try my best, pumpkin. Look, I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you tomorrow, ’kay?”

  “Just one last thing!”

  I drag my eyes up and down Demi’s shapely form as she draws closer, lust stirring in my loins a
t the sight of her long, slim legs encased in skyscraper stilettos. Her lightweight jacket is open, revealing the short, tight black dress she’s wearing. It clings to her body like a second skin, and my dick surges to life behind the crotch of my jeans.

  “Charlie!”

  Lil’s shout brings me back into the moment. “I’m listening,” I say, pressing back farther into the shadows in case Demi should happen to glance this way. “What were you saying?”

  “Mom’s freaking out over the invite. What should she do?”

  I watch Demi disappear through the doors of the club as my sister’s words register in my brain. “What invite?”

  “Were you even listening to anything I said?” she huffs, and her pout carries down the line.

  “I got distracted for that last part, but I’ve been listening, Lil.”

  “Mom got an invite to that elite ball.”

  I frown even though she can’t see me. I haven’t heard anything about any event, but if formal invites have been issued, I guess mine is sitting in the mountain of mail piled high on the kitchen table.

  “I’ll handle it,” I reassure my sister, because there’s no way in hell I want Mom anywhere near those sick bastards.

  It’s challenging though, because she’s the widow of a man from a founding family, and as I haven’t ascended to full status within the order yet, she is still duty bound to fulfill a role when called upon. My father successfully shielded her from the worst excesses of elitist life when he was alive, and I fully intend to continue keeping her away from that world.

  If everything hadn’t gone down the way it did in Wyoming, I’d be a full member now that I’ve graduated high school and I’m nineteen. But everything has been in limbo within the order since things were exposed, and I’m just waiting to find out what happens next. There’s no doubt the new president will rectify things in due course.

  “Tell her you’ve spoken to me and she’s not to attend. I’ll RSVP on her behalf with an excuse.”

  “Thanks, Charlie.” Her relief is palpable.

  “Anything, pumpkin. You know I’ve got your back.”

  “Call me tomorrow?” she asks.