The Wicked

We get back to Luxington just after sunset, and I drop Penelope at her apartment, then head home.

My entire body hurts like I’ve been hit by a truck, and my mental health isn’t in the best place either. I’m ready to get into my bed and ignore the world for the rest of the night.

Traffic is light for a Sunday, so I make it back to my house quickly and park the Mercedes in the garage since I plan on taking the Maserati to school tomorrow. I notice when I’m walking through the kitchen from the garage that the TV is on in the living room, so I head that way to turn it off before I drag myself upstairs.

Only, I find my father sitting on the couch, arm thrown over the back while he drinks a glass of golden liquor.

Stopping dead in my tracks, I drop my bag on the floor, and he turns to look at me.

“You’re home.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” I growl, staring at him.

“I live here,” he says coolly, waving a hand in the air.

I laugh, renewed anger rushing through me. “Coulda fooled me.”

He clears his throat as he leans forward to grab the remote, then he turns off the TV and crosses his legs. “Come and sit with me, son. It’s time we have a talk.”

“Pass.” I pick up my bag. “I’m going to bed. Feel free to fuck off back to New York by the time I wake up.”

“Sit,” he yells. “Down. Now.”

I hate the way my back goes rod-straight and my knees buckle, like the little boy who used to be afraid of his father’s loud mouth and fists. Dropping my bag again, I walk across the room and sit down on the armchair against the wall.

“Good,” he says, looking entirely unaffected. “Now, where shall we start? Let’s talk about what you’ve been up to over the last year. Drugs, alcohol, parties, women, extravagant purchases… am I forgetting anything?”

I lean my head back. “Men, too. There’ve been lots of those.”

“Vile.” He scoffs, and I roll my eyes at him.

He hums between his lips. “I was pleased to see that you’ve continued to get straight As in school. Do you plan to attend university?”

“I haven’t given it much thought.”

“You’ll need to start applying for schools soon, as you’ll be graduating this year. I know people in a few of the Ivys, it would only take one phone call to get you accepted,” he says, then he swallows down what’s left in his glass.

“What is this?” I question, tapping my fingers anxiously on the arms of the chair. “Why are you here, Dad? Why are you pretending to be concerned with my life?”

“Am I not allowed to show interest in my investments?” he asks, putting his empty glass on the coffee table between us. “After all of the money you’ve spent, I am owed some insight into your life and future.”

“Investments? That’s how you see this?” I curl my hands into fists. “I’m not a fucking business transaction. I’m your son.”

He waves a hand in the air. “Don’t get emotional, Hayden. I always hated that about you. Just like your mother, so filled with complexities.”

I lean forward, putting my elbows on my knees to look at him. “Cut to the chase, what is it you want from me?”

He presses his lips together in thought, then he levels me with a look. “I want a return for my investment. I want you to get an Ivy League education and I want you to take over my business when I retire.”

“Why?” I muse, my lips twisting into a grin. “What’s your angle?”

“My angle?” he repeats, thinking over the question. “I don’t have an angle, Hayden.”

I chuckle. “You always have an angle, Dad. Don’t try to bullshit someone who knows everything about you. Why are you suddenly wanting me to become a part of your legacy?” I spit the last word like it’s coated in venom.

He tips his head to the side as he looks over me, assessing every inch of my appearance like it’s offended him. “You aren’t exactly the child I hoped for, Hayden, that isn’t a secret, but you are a Monroe nonetheless. You’re eligible for all the name carries. You could have everything I have if you let me teach you how to. You’ll just need to clean up your act first.”

“No, thanks,” I say, standing up. “I’d rather be six feet under with mom than follow in your disgraceful footsteps.”

He stands too, stepping closer to me. “Then you will not be getting money for college at all.”

“Fine,” I say, stepping back on instinct. “I don’t need shit from you.”

He crosses the five feet that separates us and grabs me by the t-shirt, his face twisting with disgust. “You are my biggest regret, Hayden James. I should have had your mother abort you when I had the chance.”

My vision goes red, and I swing my fist without hesitation, punching him across the jaw and sending him stumbling back. He runs a hand over his jaw when he rights himself again, his nostrils flared and his eyes wild.

He lunges for me in the next breath, his fist connecting with my cheek and making me fall onto the armchair.

“Stupid fucking boy.” He spits on me, his saliva landing on my face. Yelling, his face goes red. “Get out of my house! You’re a fucking disappointment, just like your pathetic cousin. You’ll have nothing, just like him.”

“At least he’s fucking happy!” I shout, feeling protective over everything Travis has been through to detach from our family name. “You’ll die alone and leave nothing behind worth remembering.”

“You’ll regret this when you’re living on the streets without a penny to your name,” he sneers.

My chest heaves as I stare up at him in silence for a few breaths, then I stand up and brush my hands down the front of my pants. Sidestepping him, I stalk across the room and pick up my bag, then head for the front door.

Grabbing the keys for my Maserati, I slam the door behind me.

I get across town and into Franklin in thirty minutes, pick up two grams of coke and a large baggie of pills, then I hit a liquor store to buy a handle of Jack with the credit card I’m sure will be shut off by morning.

Sitting in my car in the parking lot, I swallow down five Xanax bars and chase them with a shot of the Jack, then I put my car into drive and speed back to Luxington before I get too fucked up to drive.

I’m banging on Carson’s front door a half hour later.

His mom answers, and I try to mask my state so she doesn’t worry. She’s been more of a parent to me than anyone, and I don’t need her freaking out.

“Mrs. Briar.” I smile, swinging my bag at my side. “Think I could camp out in your guest room for a few days?”

“Of course, Hayden.” Her brows furrow. “Is everything okay?”

I wave her off. “Ah, you know. Dad’s in town. Just don’t want to deal with him. He’ll be back in New York before we know it.”

She nods, aware of my situation at home, and steps to the side. “I think Carson and Logan are watching a movie if you want to join them.”

“I’m just going to go to bed, no need to bother them.” I walk to the stairs. “Thanks, again.”

“Let me know if you need anything, Hayden,” she says, watching me as I take the stairs two at a time, racing toward the solace of the guest room so I can break down in private.