3- Remy
1218 Words
I looked much more like my father than I did my mom, which wasn't too disappointing, especially since he was still a stud at fifty. Gray hair that made him like a silver fox in his prime. And those dark eyes that spelled trouble.
It made sense why mom fell for him.
It also made sense why I fell for Decker.
“Kane.” His voice was low. “Out.”
Mhm. Should not have run my big mouth to a certain man.
The second Kane left, my father spoke. “Sit.”
I crossed my arms. “No 'baby girl, I missed you?' Or 'welcome home, there's always a place for you in my court?' Cause that's what I need right now after what Travis—”
“Everyone knows you hated that coward, so the pity party you desire won't work.”
I sighed. “I'll take my losses.”
The second I moved to sit, my father had reached me in three strides and wrapped me up in his arms. He smelled masculine, but with a mix of engine oil and the sun and all those things I liked about getting hugs from him when I was six. “You look like shit.”
I didn't hug him back. “It's because I look like you.”
When he pulled away, his dark eyes roamed my body. “Is the bastard dead?”
I shrugged. “Hopefully not. I got too mad to ask why he was f*****g my best friend, so I'll need to ask later—and he needs to be alive, Daddy. Stop glaring at me like that. You can kill him later.”
He reached out and pushed a strand of hair behind my ear. “I never said I was gonna kill him.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Are you staying, Remy Lou?”
I wanted to. f**k, I wanted to. But my father was already staring at me like whatever answer I gave would break him, and I… I don't think I'll stay too long if what I came for doesn't work out. “Who knows? I'm gonna test the waters. Hopefully return with a fish and shit.”
“You always had a way with words. Ever got that arts degree you wanted?”
“Yes, actually,” I said quite proudly. “Graduated with honors too.”
He made a face. “You didn't invite me for graduation?”
“Pops, I didn't do that s**t. I was pretending to be normal, but I couldn't pretend for too long. That s**t's exhausting.”
“I see. So we are throwing you a party as soon as we can.”
“Dad—”
Cole Calloway made a face. It was something of a 'dare me' and 'I will slap you hard across the face,' and if he hadn't changed too much, then a slap was coming my way if I didn't shut up. “Understood. Under one condition.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I don't see how you are in a position to have conditions.”
“You don't have to see it.” I shrugged. “I wanna get patched in.”
Silence, then him walking to his leather seat. “No.”
“I'm twenty-two years old—”
“And you could be fifty,” He cut in. Seeing my father in that leather swivel chair after these three years was a strange sight. I used to be so afraid of him on that thing, but I wasn't anymore. “You said you got your degree. You can—”
“With all due respect, I already lived a civilian life. I didn't f*****g like it. That's the point. It's not that it sucks, you know? The rules. I just don't seem to know them. It's almost as if there's some funny joke that I'm not let in on. Everyone's miserable. I am miserable. What would it take for you to understand that this is the one place I feel chosen?”
“Look, you're going to have to pick your poison. You stay here and you're the princess as you've always been, or you can leave and I don't imprison you—”
“I'm your kid. Yours, for crying out loud,” I cut in.
No one would take me. No one seemed to pick me. He had no other f*****g choice.
“You gotta give me a chance. If it… if it doesn't work, then you can… I don't know, ground me or whatever, but we're family. I know you want me here. When are you gonna stop being a big baby about it?”
The Cole Calloway I knew as a teenager would have had me counting rice seeds for my insolence… but this time, he stared at me with this same old look he's had recently and said ever so quietly, “Alright. Six months. But you're gonna have to earn your kutte like everybody else.”
“Six months? But I know the entire rule book already. I'm also a Calloway—”
“And that's exactly why it's six months.” My father leaned back in his chair. “You think I'm gonna let you waltz in here and get special treatment? You wanna be one of us, you earn it. No shortcuts. No daddy's girl privileges.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but he held up a hand.
“Six months, Remy. You follow orders. You keep your mouth shut when you're supposed to. You prove you can hang without me pulling strings. You're also keeping the bat down.” His dark eyes pinned me in place. “And you stay away from Kane.”
“He's the VP. How am I supposed to—”
“Figure it out.”
“Fine. And my sponsor?”
“Decker Kane.”
“What in the actual f**k—?”
“Leave my office, prospect.” He flipped through the files on his table. “Some of us have real jobs.”
I wanted to scream at him, or at the very least, break his table, but I didn't. Instead, I walked out of his office with a fire in my belly that threatened to turn into a full-blown rage party—
Until my face fell on Decker Kane, who was leaning against the wall like he had all the time in the world.
He'd heard the entire conversation.
And he was already looking like I had stolen his soul.
I grinned and walked up to him. “Well, hello—”
“You'll regard me with respect, Prospect.” But he looked like he was using all of his might to hold back something.
I could push. I should push. But I wasn't sure I would survive staring at the look on his face without taking my panties out and presenting them to him on a gold platter. So I backed away. “Understood, sir. See you tomorrow.”
The moment I found my old room, I collapsed onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.
Decker Kane. My sponsor.
This was either going to be the best six months of my life—or the end of it.
- Writer
