Royal Prick (A Stepbrother Romance) (2 page)

                     “I am. It’s either this or something far worse that I know we will both end up regretting.” I raised an eyebrow up at her, challenging her to disagree or try and stop me. I needed out. I was a caged, rabid animal on the verge of biting, and I didn’t have a rabies shot.

                     “Royal,” she said my name in the most defeated way I had ever heard. I wanted to run to her and wrap my arms around her. I wanted to tell her everything would be okay—that I would be okay, but even I didn’t know the truth in that. Okay wasn’t something that I even understood; to be okay you had to understand what was going on inside of yourself. I was a lost cause. Despite her best effort at raising me, somehow I still turned out fucked up.

                     “I love you, Mom,” I choked out the words as I opened my bedroom door. I stood there for a moment, hearing her soft cries resonate behind me. I wasn’t any better than my father. I wasn’t any better than anyone. I let that sink in as I headed down the stairs and out to my car a piece of shit Honda Civic. Not all of us had the luxury of nice things.

I fished my phone out of my pocket and called my friend Simon; he picked up on the second ring, a hello sounding on the other end of the line.

                     “I need a fight,” I growled the words as I started the car and put it in reverse, slamming on the gas pedal as I pulled out of the driveway. It backfired and then roared to life as soon as I put it in drive. I started down the road, heading toward the industrial park.

                     “Are you sure, dude? You just fought last night, and I’m pretty sure you have some type of concussion.” Simon tried to act like he was concerned for my health, but I knew the truth. He wasn’t, if he could put money on my fight and go home with some cash, he would.

I always won. It was the only thing I was good at. Throwing a fist and busting someone’s face open. I had to find a better hobby, but for now this one would do.

                     “Of course I’m fucking sure; why else would I call you? Therefore I’ll be at the warehouse in ten minutes and there better be a fighting waiting for me.” I hung up the phone, letting the warning hang in the air. I was overcome with guilt.  The guilt of what I was about to do. The guilt that I brought on my mom as she worried and wondered if it was her fault for me being this way.

                     No one understood the anger that was sparked deep inside of me. I smirked, realizing my father would soon understand the damage he caused by abandoning me and so would his perfect little family. I clenched the steering wheel in my hands. Oh they would all understand the kind of hell I could bring down on them.

                     That I would bring down on them.

                     I was Royal Black, and I was better at being an asshole than anything else.

Chapter Two

-Noelle

My mother warned me, or at the very least she tried to. She did so by showing me the most recent pictures of Royal, which just happened to be from the juvenile detention center that he was placed in for illegal underground fighting. The entire reason he was being sent to live with us in the first damn place.

                     “I want you to understand how dangerous he is, Noelle. He’s fighting kids for money. Clearly his mother isn’t taking very good care of him and that’s why he’s being sent here.”  My mother’s words sent a shudder of fear down my spine. If she was taking this seriously then I should be too, right? It wasn’t everyday she talked to me about shit like this or even cared much for my well-being. As long as I played along in her perfect little life, maintaining good grades and making her look good in front of her and Dad's rich friends, she all but left me alone.

                     “I understand, Mom, I’ll stay away from him,” I mumbled, lying through my teeth.  I couldn’t take my eyes off the photo of him no matter how hard I tried. All I could see was a misunderstood boy, with the potential for so much more.

His eyes were dark and bleak. The contours of his face in the lighting made him look darker, more sinister than he really was, I was sure. He had dark brown hair that was spiked in a million different directions, the kind of hair that said he did nothing in the morning to tame it. God to be those hands, those fingers. I could feel my cheeks growing pink and a heat creeping up my neck.

“I doubt he will do anything to hurt you, but the fact that he fights in the underground arenas all but says he will do anything for some money. Besides, his mother Olivia is certain that he just needs a little bit of time with his father. I’m not convinced in the least bit, though. He left them for a reason.” My mother was preparing her tea in our over the top kitchen. Mark, Royal’s father wasn’t biologically my dad, but he’d been married to my mom since she was pregnant with me, and he treated me like I was his own flesh and blood. He gave me the things I needed for a better life and was the father to me that mine never was or even tried to be. He treated my mom right and was an all-around great guy which was all I could ever ask for.

                     “Maybe it’s true?” I shrugged, trying to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. My mom had always been a negative nelly, always believing the bad in people before she even bothered to hear the good that they might have done.

                     “Don’t be so naïve, Noelle.” She scolded me like I was a small child. I wanted to roll my eyes at her but didn’t. I knew better than that. I didn’t have the time in my day for that lecture again. My mom was all about money and popularity, uncaring to those of lesser stature than her. In my eyes, she would be forever ungrateful. Just another unhappy, rich snob.

I couldn’t help myself, I had to sneak another peek. My eyes drifted back down to the photo she had placed in front of me as I ate my breakfast. Royal. I said the name in my head letting it roll around and simmer in my mind for a few minutes.

                     It was a name that reminded me of royalty, of a person who considered themselves above others, though he didn’t look the part at all.

                     He oozed sex appeal and charm,,that coupled with the pale blue eyes and the darkness of his skin made him more appealing to the eye. Then there was the fact he was smirking in his photo, which was all but saying fuck you to the correctional officer in front of him. Still, I wanted to reach through the photo and shake the shit out of him. He was a bad boy; it was written all over his face, and I was curious.

                     “When is he coming?” I blurted the question out. I wanted to meet him; to be the first to question him and bring to light all of his discretions. I wanted to rip him apart and piece him back together. To figure out everything there was to know about him, and to dissect the sad look in his eyes. Something in that photo made me want to know him. It made me want to know why he would endanger himself and those he loved most.

                     “Tomorrow, possibly tonight. Your father is picking him up from the airport sometime soon. I don’t really know, Noelle.” Her voice was short as she sipped on her tea and scrolled on her phone pretending to listen to anything I was saying.

                     “Oh, okay. Well does he need any help with anything? Maybe getting enrolled in classes, sports, or extra-curriculars?” I peppered her with questions. I didn’t want to sound overly excited, or too eager because she would take it the wrong way, but I had been alone in this giant ass house for years. Having someone else here with me, someone the same age as me would maybe make the house seem a little smaller and hopefully more like a home.

                     My mom lifted her eyes from her cell phone screen, her eyes narrowing on me, as she digested what I had said. “Sports? Really, Noelle, he’s a damn criminal for Christ sake. Criminals don’t play sports, and if he’s got a track record like that…” she pointed to the information underneath the photo, “…I doubt he has the grades to back himself up to join any extra-curricular activities.” I could feel my mouth drop open. Her assumptions on who he was were horrible. Just because a piece of paper said something about you didn’t mean it defined you, and apparently my mother didn’t get that memo. I must have taken too long to answer because before I could speak she was talking again.

                     “Please don’t tell me you see hope in this juvenile delinquent?” I could hear the disapproval in her voice.  How could she be so rude, so mean? We knew nothing of him except for who his father was, and that wasn’t even enough to judge someone. So what, he had a record. So did a lot of the guys I went to school with.

                     “I’ll be the judge of who I see him as. Just because a slip of paper tells you someone did something wrong, doesn’t mean that they’re at fault and it definitely doesn’t mean that he’s a criminal, at least not by choice.” I couldn’t believe I had stood up against my mother. The breath in my chest stilled as I waited for her to let me have it.

                     “I cannot…” She was flustered as she searched for a word to use against me, a word to describe her pure disapproval of me.

                     “Well I did, and it’s done and over with. Let me see him for myself and get to know him for the person he is before I judge him. Your assumption on who he is and my assumption are clearly very different. I need to be able to decide what type of person he is and whether or not he deserves to be treated like a criminal. After all, I’ve been alone in this house literally my whole life. It would be nice to have some company for a change.” I pushed off from the marble island counter and walked over to the farmhouse sink, setting my bowl in it.

                     “He’s a fighter. A criminal. He’s trouble walking. He’s put people in the hospital… You…” She tumbled over her words, looking for the perfect way to tell me he was a bad person.

I rolled my eyes as she carried on the conversation. “This isn’t going to work out. I should have known better than to agree to anything Mark wanted. I mean he hasn’t been in the child’s life since he was baby, and we don’t need this kind of negativity in the house. Everything is perfect as it is without him here. Just look at what’s going on now; the kid isn’t even here yet and you’re already arguing with me.” My fingernails dug into the edge of the sink, my eyes lingering on the immaculate green lawn outside the window. Perfection was around every single corner of this house. I took in a deep breath, willing my nerves to cool. I already knew my mom was a bitch, but I never knew more than in this one single moment how true that statement was.

                     I stood there in silence, not saying a word even though I wanted to scream at her for being such a cruel person. It wasn’t our job to judge him, and if he hadn’t seen his dad since birth then I’m sure this was already hard enough for him too. The woman only heard and believed what she saw on paper or what would fit into her neat little imaginary box.

                     My silence only settled the matter more for her. “I am calling Mark and telling him to call this all off. You don’t need this kind of influence in your life. You’re going off to college next year, and we don’t need someone like him coming into our lives and causing problems.” I was seriously considering cutting my ears off so I wouldn’t have to listen to the insanity spewing from her mouth anymore.

                     “It’s not your choice, Mom. Let Dad decide that for himself. It’s his son, not yours.” I tried to keep my voice neutral because I wasn’t ready for her bat shit crazy self to go off on me.

                     “Excuse you!” Her anger was mounting. Clearly I hadn’t kept my voice neutral enough. “It’s my choice because I am protecting my daughter from that vile boy. Which he will most likely bring a charade of bad habits with him as well.” She sighed into the air as if talking about the entire issue was the most exhausting thing ever for her. I was done with this conversation, and done with letting her ruin my day.

                     “I’m going to let Dad make that choice. I’ve got homework so I’m going upstairs to finish it.” I tuned her out, even though she continued to speak as I headed up the grand staircase. Why did this entire thing between Mark, my mom, and Royal’s mom seem so fucked up? It seemed like there was so much more going on behind the scenes. Shit that I knew nothing about. I felt a little lost, and I wondered if Royal would be just as confused.

                     It didn’t start to sink in on just how fucked up it really was until I walked down the hall realizing that Mark was a millionaire and had all but plucked my pregnant mother up off the street. He cared for us when no one else did. He gave us everything he had all while he had a son on the side that he had nothing to do with? Then there was everything with Royal’s mom. Somewhere along the lines things weren’t adding up. Why would a man as good as my dad leave his son just to take in a woman expecting another man's child?                      

I shook my head. It was too much for me to wrap my head around at the moment, but I would bet almost anything that’s what caused Royal to act out, and that would be the pulsating wound that would show through in his actions and emotions. My mom didn’t know anything about loss, or about dealing with your feelings in any other way than she did so herself. If you were different than her in any way, you were below her; at least in her eyes.

                     I got the feeling Royal was doing all he could to get by, and I would do whatever I could when he got here to prove to my mother just how good of a person he really was. Underneath that bad boy persona lied a lost little boy.