Hu Money: A Forbidden Bully Romance (The Dirty Money Duet Book 1)

by BL Mute

  “I’ll take some of that fresh lemonade Gloria made this morning,” Carter speaks up.

  He nods, then leaves the table and disappears into the back.

  I scoot my chair closer to Carmen and lean my head to her shoulder. “Dude. I hate this.”

  She smiles and nods as my mom goes on and on about new plans for the club. “Just smile and play along. It’ll be over before you know it,” she whispers, keeping her focus on my mother. “I have to do this shit with my dad every weekend.”

  I do my best to take her advice as the night goes on. I mean, it’s easy to play along and act like everything is okay because I’ve been doing it for so long, but it gets exhausting, and I’m scared I’ll slip up. Mac is acting extremely nice for no reason, and it pisses me off. Carter is staying fairly quiet and to himself, and my mom is completely oblivious. Thank God for Carmen because it’s her who keeps the conversations going and everything running smoothly. She really has a way of making everyone feel at ease and comfortable, and I’m grateful for that.

  After a couple of hours pass and everyone has finished their food, we all stand from the table in sync and start the walk out of the country club. Once we’re back outside and the cool night air hits my face, the weight that’s been heavy on my chest eases. Being stuck at a table with Malcolm and my mother at the same time was stressful. I was almost scared to speak—scared I would say something without thinking and blow the entire thing Malcolm and I have going on, but luckily, I didn’t. And I think that’s thanks to Carmen.

  Every time I would open my mouth to speak, she would lay her arm across the back of my chair and tap me if she thought shit could go bad. She would never let me embarrass myself, even if she doesn’t know the extent of how embarrassing the shit I’ve done really is. She’s the true definition of a great friend, and it makes me feel even worse for basically cutting all contact when I left.

  As we all slip back into the car and pull away from the club, I push the thoughts away and try to just focus on what—or rather how—I’m going to tell Carmen what happened when we get back home. I mean, the bright side of this whole thing, even though it’s actually really fucked-up when you think about it, is this will give Carmen—the queen of gossip—something to focus on so she doesn’t question other things and find out the truth about what Mac and I are doing.

  When Mac pulls around the drive, I waste no time barreling out of my side of the car and pulling Carmen with me, all the way inside and up the stairs until we are safely in my room. I close the door and lock it before moving back to the window and opening it.

  She throws her bag on my bed after grabbing her pack of cigarettes and a lighter from it, then joins me where I’m perched on the windowsill. “So, what’s up? I’ve patiently waited all night for this. Don’t make me wait any longer,” she teases.

  I snatch the pack of cigarettes from her and open them. The smell of marijuana slaps me in the face. I dig further in the pack, past the few cigarettes, and pull out a half-smoked blunt. “Really? You carry this shit on you smelling like that?” I ask, holding up the culprit for the smell.

  She snatches it from me and scrunches up her face. “Shut up. No one in this town would say shit if they caught me with it. Everyone knows how Daddy likes to pay people off to keep the image of his perfect little girl pure.” She rolls her eyes. “Now, stop trying to change the subject, and tell me what’s up.”

  I pluck a cigarette from the pack and light it, then blow a cloud of smoke out the window. “When I came home from work, I was… frustrated…”

  She raises an eyebrow, none the wiser to what I mean. “Okay. And?”

  I take another drag and pinch the bridge of my nose. Carmen and I have never been the type to get embarrassed when it comes to discussing sex, but this is different. I wasn’t railing some hot guy. I got caught trying to get myself off.

  “Basically, I lay down and decided to service myself.” I pause and wait for her response.

  A smile pulls at her lips. “Ah, you were flicking your bean, huh?”

  I cringe with a groan. “Don’t say it like that.”

  She holds up her hands in defense. “Sorry. Would you prefer playing DJ downstairs? Or what about stuffing the clam? I can go on and on until we find one you like,” she laughs.

  I push her shoulder lightly. “I hate you,” I sputter between my own laughs.

  She takes the cigarette from my fingers and sucks in a puff. “I’m sorry, that was just too easy, but go on.”

  I roll my eyes and lean my head against the windowsill. “Carter walked in.”

  Her eyebrows shoot up her forehead as her eyes grow bigger. “Oh God.” She covers her mouth in an effort to conceal her smile.

  “I don’t even want to look at him now. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Well, what exactly did he see?” she asks, leaning closer like she would miss my response if she didn’t.

  I shake my head and cover my eyes with my hand. “I was basically naked, and my blanket was on the floor. He saw everything.”

  “Are we talking just a little rubbing or full-on knuckle-deep in your vag?”

  I peek between my fingers. “Knuckle-deep, you fucking perv.”

  More laughs rack her body. “This is fucking rich.”

  “Carmen, I’m serious. I’m embarrassed and have to face him. Dinner was already awkward enough.”

  She flicks the cigarette out the window. “Does Mac know? Is that why he was being way too fucking nice?”

  My stomach sinks with her question, but I do my best to play it cool. Him knowing about what Carter saw didn’t even cross my mind until now. “I don’t know.” I shrug.

  “I mean,” she starts, abandoning the subject of Mac, “at least Carter is hot. It could be worse if he were like, the creepy, ugly stepbrother, right?”

  I roll my eyes. “Doesn’t make it any better, Carmen.”

  “Did he at least try and explain himself?”

  I shake my head. “No. The only thing he said was, and I quote, ‘Next time if you need some help, just ask.’”

  She smirks at me. “Should have taken him up on the offer. I bet he’s dirty and won’t tell you he loves you or get attached. It’s the perfect arrangement.”

  I huff. “Maybe for you, but I want nothing to do with him.”

  She lets out a breath. “No, thanks. This kitty only gets wet for old men.” She pats her center with the palm of her hand. “I have to go, but I’m coming to steal you tomorrow night. It’ll be fun, I promise.” She smiles and stands.

  “Whose party?” I ask, ignoring her kitty statement.

  “Fuck if I know. It’s out of Bexley though, so maybe it won’t be the usual crowd of douchebags.”

  “I don’t even remember the usual crowd of douchebags.” I laugh.

  “See? Then this will be perfect.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do. I’ll pick you up at eight. I’m driving,” she says, walking to my door.

  “I’ll make sure to say my prayers tonight, then, and ask for forgiveness of all the fucked-up shit I’ve done for when I die,” I tease.

  “My driving isn’t that bad, and you don’t even believe in God.” She rolls her eyes and steps out my door, closing it behind her.

  I pull my window shut, then make my way to my bed and fall into it. Maybe she’s right. The party tomorrow could be a good distraction.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  LYDIA

  I stare at my reflection in the mirror. I haven’t been to a party since I’ve been home, and honestly, I’m kind of nervous. Before shit got bad with my dad, I was always babysitting Carmen. I wouldn’t go out with her to get fucked-up; I would go to simply watch her and make sure nothing bad happened. That shifted pretty drastically now though.

  Now I do anything I can to chase a high or get a sliver of numbness. It’s easier than feeling the sadness and anger I do when I think about my dad being dead.

  I shove the thoughts of my dad away as
I adjust the locket around my neck. I’m not sure how tonight will go, but I’m hoping it will give me something to focus on other than Mac and all the fucked-up shit going on with him.

  Pushing the straps of my shirt up, I tilt my head. For once I’m wearing a full face of makeup: dark, smokey eyeshadow and black eyeliner to frame my blue eyes paired with a plum lipstick to match my purple tank top I have on under my black corset. And I figured since my top is a little dressier, I’d wear jeans instead of a skirt.

  I push my feet into my Mary-Jane platform heels as the doorbell rings, then rush down the stairs. Glancing at my phone when I reach the bottom, I see it’s only seven o’clock, but I knew Carmen would be early. She’s always early.

  I pull open the door with a smile. “You’re early.”

  She pushes off the brick of my house with wide eyes when she catches sight of me. “Holy fuck, Lydia!” she squeals. “You look hot.”

  I chuckle and push my hair behind my ear. “Speak for yourself. Look at you.”

  She does a curtsey, holding the edge of her little black dress, and dips her head. “I tried.” She smiles.

  “Like you have to.” I roll my eyes and step out the door, closing it behind me. “So where exactly are we going?”

  I follow her down the steps and slide into her Bentley before she finally answers. “Do you remember Bradley?”

  “College boy Bradley?” I ask, thinking back to one of her old flings.

  She nods and starts the car. “That’s the one. He finally graduated tech school and is celebrating at his parents’ ranch house. It’s only about two and a half hours from here.”

  I groan and push my head further into my seat. “You said not the usual crowd. Everyone here knows Bradley.”

  “They may, but he has more friends than people in Bexley, Lydia. He knows people from everywhere. Even knows some people from Pine Hills. Just try and enjoy tonight. Ignore everyone. It doesn’t matter who is or isn’t there, we will still make the best of it.” She reaches over the console and squeezes my leg, reaffirming her words.

  I let out a sigh. “Fine. But when I say we have to go, we have to go. I don’t want to deal with any bullshit tonight.”

  She places her hand back on the steering wheel as we pull out of my driveway. “I got you. Just relax.”

  When we turn down an unmarked road, I see cars lining the street. There are expensive cars and SUVs with the occasional beat-up truck or minivan. It gives me hope that this really isn’t the usual crowd. No one in Bexley would be caught dead in anything that cost less than a hundred grand.

  Carmen pulls into the only empty spot behind a blacked-out Tahoe and kills her engine. “Ready?” she asks, wiggling her eyebrows.

  I shrug and open my door. “I guess so.”

  I check the time on my phone and notice it only took us a little over two hours to get here, then shove it into the back pocket of my jeans. I hook my arm with Carmen’s as she rounds her Bentley, and we start up the long drive.

  When she said ranch house, I was expecting something small with a barn and maybe a few farm animals—horses, pigs, and whatever else lives on a farm—but this is far from that. I shouldn’t be surprised, considering Bradley just graduated from one of the most prestigious schools in the state, because I know that cost his parents a pretty penny. But the house in front of us is huge.

  It’s white with dark blue shutters, a wraparound porch, and tons of fairy lights hanging from the trees occupying the yard and wrapped around the massive pillars. And there is no barn in sight.

  As we get closer, music spills from the open door and windows, and people linger on the porch, drinks in hand, chatting with others. It seems pretty chill considering it’s a party. We glide up the steps and walk through the door, and the environment shifts. The music is blaring, people are packed inside like sardines, and drinks, joints, and pills are being passed around like candy.

  “Stark contrast from outside, huh?” Carmen laughs, grabbing my hand and leading me through the crowd and into the kitchen.

  “I was going to say it,” I reply. “I need a drink to deal with all of these people.”

  “Coming up!” a deep voice sounds from behind me.

  I glance over my shoulder and see Bradley making his way to us with a smile on his face and a red Solo cup in his hand. He breaks the hold Carmen has on me and wraps his arms around her waist, making sure not to spill the drinks in his hand.

  “I’m glad you came,” he practically yells in her ear.

  “I’ll let you know if I feel the same by the end of the night.”

  I shimmy closer, pushing in front of them just in time to hear his low reply.

  “I’ll do that thing with my tongue you like to ensure the drive was worth it.” He nips her earlobe.

  Her eyes catch mine, and she smiles, then pushes him away and changes the subject. “How about a drink for Lydia?”

  I nod and look to all the bottles on the counter. “I’ll take some of that Malibu mixed with pineapple juice.”

  “You got it. And what about you, Carmen?” Bradley asks.

  She holds up her hands. “I’m driving, so no drinks. I brought my own party favors.” She reaches inside her bra and pulls out a tightly rolled joint.

  He moves closer to me and bumps my shoulder with his as he starts mixing my drink. “My girl always preferred the natural stuff.”

  I want to roll my eyes because I know he and Carmen are done. She got everything she wanted from him, but he seems to be the only one who doesn’t see that. Maybe he’s holding on to hope she’ll want to settle down and have a family or whatever, but Carmen isn’t that type. She likes men for sex and the things they can give her. Even though her dad is more loaded than most of the guys she fucks with, she would rather suck them dry than ask her dad for shit.

  I never understood her disdain for her dad. I mean, he’s a decent guy. Works a lot, sure, but never bad to her. Not that I know of anyway, and I like to think I know everything about Carmen. Maybe because it was a nanny raising her instead of him, she never grew that bond. I don’t know, and I don’t ask. Carmen’s dad is a topic she won’t talk about, and I respect that.

  When Bradley hands me my drink, I chug it quickly and motion for a refill before leaving them in the kitchen to venture around the rest of the place.

  As I look at all the faces around me, a sense of relief comes over me. Relief I can be whoever I want tonight because I know no one here. I can just be a girl who likes to dance and drink and enjoy myself.

  I make it to the center of the living room, where everyone seems to be bumping and grinding to “idfc” by Blackbear. I join in, closing my eyes and letting the music guide my body. I run my empty hand up and down my side, let my head fall back, and get completely lost in the bass.

  I take a few gulps of my drink, loving the fact Bradley made it strong, then open my eyes when the song ends. As my eyes find the spot right in front of me, I wince, and all the relaxation and relief I was feeling leave me in a wave.

  Standing directly in front of me, maybe three feet away, is Jake. The same Jake I used to fuck in Pine Hills for weed and pills. The one I tried to use to numb my grief. The same fucking Jake I haven’t seen since I made him leave with his pants practically around his ankles.

  His eyes catch mine, so I try to turn away and melt into the crowd, but he’s too quick. He reaches me in a few big steps and grabs me by the elbow. “Bexley girl,” he hisses. “I’ve been waiting to finish what we started last time we were together.”

  I jerk my arm from his hold and square my shoulders. “Fuck off.”

  His eyes narrow, and his head dips slightly. “Not a chance.”

  Before I can even formulate another reply, like he even deserves it, another voice, one I’m all too familiar with, rings out from behind me. “I think she said fuck off, pretty boy.”

  Jake’s eyes shoot from me to above my head, no doubt looking to Carter. “And who are you?”

  Carter’s hand sna
kes around me, and then his palm lays flat on my stomach. The warmth of his hand sends tingles to my core and makes me want to squeeze my knees together, but I don’t let it show. I’m not supposed to even talk to Carter, let alone allow something like this to happen. But what fun is listening anyway? Especially to someone I can’t fucking stand for more than however long it takes to get off.

  I push my back into his front and move my eyes back to Jake, forcing the thoughts of Malcolm away. “My boyfriend,” I finally answer.

  He shakes his head with a scoff as he crosses his arms. “Ah. Found someone else to supply you shit in exchange for pussy?”

  I can feel Carter tense. I reach behind me and squeeze his arm, letting him know I want to handle this. Maybe I shouldn’t have led him on the way I did, but that doesn’t mean I’ll sit back and let him take jabs at me.

  “No. It’s more just convenience. He’s actually my stepbrother. Can’t really stand him, but he’s a good fuck. Better than you.” I shrug like it’s no big deal as everyone starts to catch what is going on and circles us as the music is cut off.

  His face screws up with a grimace. “Fuck you, Bexley girl.”

  “I did fuck you, and it wasn’t that great.” I look at my nails, bored, as chuckles erupt from the crowd.

  He shakes his head aggressively, then pushes through everyone and storms through the front door without another word. Within seconds, the music starts to play again, and everyone turns their attention back to dancing and drinking.

  I turn and finally face Carter head-on. “Thanks for that,” I say, then squeeze past him and outside.

  On the porch, I guzzle the last of my drink and snatch a cigarette from the pack inside my pocket. I spark it and stare into the night as I plop onto the steps.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CARTER

  I walk into the kitchen and fill a cup with what I assume Lydia will be drinking. Mostly there is tons of clear liquor and shit to mix it with. Orange juice, Coke, the usual shit. I pour some of the juice into a cup, then top it off with vodka and swirl my finger inside to mix them.