Crash: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance (2 page)

Luke

I’d expected Katherine would be a little stuck up. Her family came from old money, I knew that much. And the one thing I’d heard about families that come from old money is that they think they’re better than everyone else.

All my friends at school were from new money. The kids with old money all went to private schools. Those of us whose parents had made their own fortunes were usually relegated to the horrors of public school life. Not that public school was bad, or anything. I kind of preferred it to the thought of going to school with a bunch of people like Katherine. Katherine. Even her name was snooty. I decided I’d refer to her in my head as “The Duchess”.

My father made his fortune in apps. Games, specifically. He was a motorcycle mechanic when I was a kid, but when my mother left him for some rich guy that whisked her off to Milan, he was determined to get rich so he could win her back. He spent his days fixing up and selling old bikes he bought at auction, and his nights learning to program games because he’d read about some stupid game about a bird that had made something like a million bucks a day.

His first few games were total flops. He was close to giving up when I had an idea that would lead to a multi-million-dollar empire. I told him some of the things my friends at school had been talking about – a specific kind of game they wished existed, but didn’t. He created it, and hired some freelance designer from India to make some fancy graphics for it, and the next thing you know we were moving out of our tiny little apartment and into a house down the street from Ben Affleck and Jennifer Garner.

The saddest part, for my father, was that my mother died of a drug overdose right before he hit it big. Turns out her new husband had a big heroin problem, and he’d drug my mother right along with him. My father never even got a chance to get her back.

I never could understand why he wanted her back in the first place. She’d never been a very good wife or mother. She spent most of her time shopping, which had driven my father into massive debt before he hit it big. She was always complaining about the fact that his credit cards were maxed and she didn’t have any money to spend. He’d just go out and apply for new cards to make her happy. Then his credit ran out, and she met Francesco and moved to Milan.

Why would he want a woman who would run off with another man for money? And, not to disrespect my mother’s memory or anything, but she wasn’t the nicest woman in the world, anyway. She hardly ever showed either of us any affection. Unless, of course, one of us brought her an expensive gift. Then sugar wouldn’t have melted in her mouth.

But he was in love with her. He’d fallen head-over-heels for a woman who treated him and his son with borderline contempt, spent him into the poorhouse, and valued money above the love of a family.

And that’s exactly why I’d decided years ago to never fall in love. I wouldn’t even let a chick get close enough to chance it. Some might say that my mother leaving was the best thing that ever happened to my father, because he got incredibly wealthy in the process he of trying so hard to get her back. But they don’t understand how hollow my father became. The money meant nothing to him now that she was gone. No way was I going to risk that.

My mother had been gone for nearly a month before we even found out. No one bothered to call and tell us. Grandma said she thought we knew and chose to not to come to the funeral because she’d left us. Grandpa said he thought Aunt Susan had called us. Aunt Susan told me Grandma told her not to call us because Grandpa was afraid we’d make a scene at the funeral. Dad was angry. I was just in disbelief. It didn’t hit me until later that my mother was gone. I guess because she’d abandoned us and hardly even called and I was angry, and it had taken longer to really sink in.

When Dad met this new chick of his, I kind of hoped she’d be enough to help him move on. He’d been a wreck since my mother died, and he’d been getting… almost violent at times. It had gotten to the point where I was ready to get out on my own the minute I turned eighteen, but that was a couple of years earlier and I was still living with him. Where else was I going to go?

There he was, ready to marry her, and she didn’t even understand that he was still totally hung up on my mother, and probably always would be. But who was I to say anything? Besides, I had a feeling if I’d dare opened my mouth, he would have closed it for me quickly. Not that I couldn’t take him, but it hardly seemed fair for his younger, much stronger son to kick his ass when he was already more screwed up than anything I could do to him.

Dad wanted me to go to college, but all I wanted to do was fix bikes. It wasn’t like I wanted to follow in the old man’s footsteps. I just liked fixing bikes. I promised him I’d take some classes, soon, but I wasn’t promising anything in the way of an actual degree. That was something I’d have to think about for a while.

We pulled up outside some upscale bistro kind of place. Dad was still fuming that I’d worn jeans instead of the khakis he’d chosen, but hey, at least I’d worn a button-up shirt instead of my usual t-shirt – solid colors, only… no hipster shit for me, thanks.

Little Miss Snooty Britches was leaning against the window like she’d just as soon jump out of it than sit next to me. Heaven forbid Her Highness deign herself to sit with a commoner.

When Dad told me her background – old money on her father’s side and some kind of royalty on her mother’s – I knew exactly what kind of spoiled princess I was going to meet. Turned out I was right. I stood at the ready to retrieve said princess if my presence finally overwhelmed her with disgust and she decided to fling herself to certain doom. Carbon copy of my mother, I’d wager.

Yeah, I knew her type. Born with a silver spoon in her mouth, so full of herself that it was laughable. And to think she had to spend an afternoon of her precious time with the likes of me. Poor little rich girl. Boo-fucking-hoo.

The more I thought about it, the more pissed I got. Who was she to judge me? The minute I walked through the door, I could see the contempt in her eyes. That’s why she hadn’t said anything or shaken my hand. I wasn’t worthy in her eyes. I was just a commoner. New money. Well, at least my father
earned
his money. Her mother had inherited hers. Big deal.

She was staring out the window and nibbling her nails. I glanced at them. Perfectly manicured, tipped with white and filed into perfect rounded corners. I bet her manicure cost more than my whole outfit.

The valet took the keys to the car, and Dad opened the door for The Duchess and her mother. I stood by, watching with disdain as the two women brushed through the front door as my father held it for them. I reluctantly followed.

I noticed the maître d’ glaring at my jeans down the length of his nose. I cringed and fought the urge to say something. I only had to make it through this one dinner for my father’s sake. The least I could do was refrain from punching the staff.

He led us to a table in the back of the restaurant, near the kitchen. Katherine and her mother slipped into one side of the booth, and I was just about to do the same when my father placed his hand on my arm.

“Excuse me, this isn’t the table I had reserved,” Dad said.

The maître d’, sighed and said, “Sir, your party is not dressed in appropriate attire. For the sake of the other guests, this is the best I can do.”

“It’s fine,” Katherine’s mother said.

“No, it’s not, actually,” Dad said, his voice rising in decibel level. “I reserved a table by the fountain, and that’s exactly where we are going to sit.”

“Sir, please don’t make a scene,” groaned the maître d’. “We don’t allow casual attire at this location, and I’m already sticking my neck out by allowing you to stay at all.”

“Well, don’t do us any favors,” my father snapped. “Let’s go. We’re going to find a place where the staff is a little more accommodating.”

“I hear the Circus Burger down the street takes walk-ins,” the maître d’ seethed, turning his nose up with contempt.

I lunged toward the little toad, but dad grabbed my arm in a vice grip and began to drag me toward the door. Katherine and her mother blanched and then turned pink with embarrassment as they followed us from the restaurant.

“Can you believe the nerve of that guy?” I muttered when we had reached the sidewalk.

“Son, just calm down,” Dad said. “We’ll take our business elsewhere.”

He handed the valet our parking ticket, and we waited for the car to be brought back around. I was furious, and I could see the maître d’ watching us from inside the restaurant as though he were making sure we left the premises.

Once we were inside the car, Dad began making phone calls. Call after call came back the same. All the decent restaurants in town were booked.

“Damn, now what?” Dad muttered.

“I know a place,” Katherine said.

Great. We’d probably end up in some uppity little coffee shop where the only thing I could get to eat would be a scone or a crumpet or some bullshit like that.

“I’m game for anything at this point,” Dad shrugged.

“Turn right at the light. It’s about three miles down on the left,” Katherine said.

Dad followed her directions and we pulled up outside a non-descript building with a sign that read “El Capitan”. There was no valet, so Dad parked the car under a tree and we all got out and made our way to the front door.

“Miss Katherine!” called a voice in a thick Latin accent. “So good to see you! You’ve brought guests!”

A short, balding man with ruddy skin and a thick, black moustache held the door open with a broad smile.

“Come in, come in!” he said warmly. “Welcome to El Capitan. For the lovely Miss Katherine and her party, the best seat in the house!”

The man led us through what appeared to be a real dive of a Mexican restaurant. I could smell the bittersweet scent of charred meat and fajita vegetables mingling with the acrid stench of copious amounts of beer and tequila. How the fuck did The Duchess even know about a place like this?

We were seated at a large, semi-circular booth by the back window, overlooking their spacious courtyard and patio, which was beautifully landscaped with elephant ears, palm trees, and an array of exotic looking flowers. In the center of the courtyard was a fountain much more grand than the one we were supposed to have been seated at back at the uppity little bistro where Dad had made reservations.

Katherine and her mother slid into the booth first, leaving myself and my father to flank them on either side. Within moments of being seated, we were offered drinks, as well as a huge basket of freshly made chips and four individual bowls of fresh salsa.

“Where’d you hear about this place, anyway?” I asked Katherine. Not that I really cared, but it had my curiosity piqued.

“My friends and I come here often,” she said. “Best Mexican food in The Valley.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. I couldn’t get over the fact that the Queen Bee would deign herself to eat with the common folks. A cursory glance around the room revealed a clientele more likely to dine at McDonald’s on a regular basis than a fine French bistro.

“Katherine!” squealed a voice. I glanced up in time to see a bubbly Latina approaching the table. “Hey, girl! Where you been lately, chica?”