Endgame: An Ocean Bay standalone novel

by Chloe Walsh

  Mom, an only child, originally from a small seaport town call Friday Harbor, got herself into a string of bad relationships during high school and ended up nursing me through her junior year until giving up her chance at a high school diploma to go in search of the city life.

  Mercedes James; because that’s what you got when you let an immature sixteen-year-old name a baby after the place in which you were conceived.

  I guess it could have been worse. I could have been called Tequila, her beverage of pleasure that night.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t love my mother, I did, deeply. But we weren’t compatible, and I was embarrassed. Everything she seemed to do irritated me and grated on my nerves, and I knew full well that if I didn’t get out of here soon, I would be the one left holding the baby.

  I had nine more months in this house and then I could take off and never come back.

  The university of Colorado had an impressive business program and generous scholarships, while, I had a 4.0 GPA and a will stronger than iron.

  It was a perfect match.

  CU was my first choice for college, but I was willing to learn anywhere in the world if it came to it.

  Anywhere except Florida state.

  Yeah, I needed out of this place and fast.

  I needed the freedom I never had while shouldering my mother’s troubles.

  I needed a fresh start.

  Unintentionally, my gaze wandered into enemy territory and I had to steel myself when I found Rourke was still glowering at me.

  Of course, I narrowed my eyes and glared back.

  Back off, Rich Prick. This cat has claws!

  Boys like this one never usually bothered me. I had enough pride to say no when they asked me for something I wasn’t willing to give, and enough confidence not to care about the backlash.

  At the end of the day, when I left school, I left all of the shit behind me.

  Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t leave this particular piece of brown crumb behind.

  I had to live with him.

  “Before we have dessert, I’d like to set some ground rules,” Gabe announced at the end of dinner, startling me from my reverie.

  “Ground rules?” Rourke shot back flatly, staring at his father like he had grown three extra heads. “What. The. Actual. Fuck?”

  So he speaks…

  Dammit, I had been hoping my memory served me wrong and Rourke Owens sounded like a nasally adolescent.

  Nope.

  My memory of him had been perfectly accurate.

  His voice was deep and gruff and he had that sexy southern drawl I secretly loved.

  FML.

  “Yes, some ground rules,” Gabe repeated, casting his son a warning glare. “And watch your mouth, son. We have ladies in the house.”

  “We do? Where?” Rourke asked mockingly. “From where I’m sitting, we’ve got a life-size version of Barbie and her brat.” Turning to his sister, he added, “No offense, Mills.”

  “None taken,” she whispered, red-faced.

  “As opposed to you?” I snarled, unable to hold my tongue.

  Now he looked at me. Rourke’s eyes were hard and cold as he stared me down. “Did you say something, Six?”

  Six?

  “Yeah.” I sat forward. “You compared my mother to a Barbie doll and I said as opposed to you; a spoiled, entitled, little prick.”

  “Mercy,” Mom hissed in an appalled tone. “That’s enough!”

  “Yeah, Six,” he sneered. “Listen to your momma. That’s enough.”

  “Would you like me to stick my foot up your ass?” I asked in a sickly-sweet voice, glaring daggers at the boy sitting across from me.

  “Mercedes James,” Mom growled. “That’s quite enough!”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried it,” Rourke shot back, ignoring my mother. He leaned forward and smirked at me. “Would you like to suck my dick?”

  “Rourke!” Gabe roared, banging his fist against the hard surface of the table. “Don’t you dare speak to your sister like that.”

  Reluctantly, Rourke tore his gaze off me and looked at his father. “She is not my sister.”

  “Apologize,” his father gritted out. “Now.”

  “Fine.” Rourke waved a hand in the air. “I apologize for offering to let you suck my dick.”

  “Your name is quite unusual, Mercedes,” Amelia squeezed out, obviously trying to simmer down the tension in the room by changing the subject. “And really pretty.”

  “Thank you,” my mother exclaimed over enthusiastically. “Her father drove a Mercedes when we were in high school.”

  “Mom.” I cringed in shame. Like she even knew. Mom was clutching at straws with that bold statement. “Please.” Shut the hell up…

  “You’re named after the car?” Amelia chirped up excitedly. “That’s so cool.”

  “That’s so fucking tacky,” Rourke sneered, observing me with a disapproving gaze. “What’s your middle name – the condom broke?”

  “No, but I know yours,” I shot back heatedly. “Rourke – I should’ve been swallowed!”

  “What’s the matter with you two?” Gabe snarled, slamming his fist down on the table. “We’re supposed to be having a nice family meal here.”

  “Family meal?” Rourke sneered, still focused on me.

  Our eyes were locked in a heated battle.

  I would rather die than be the first one to look away.

  “We’re not a fucking family, Dad,” he continued to say. “We’re collateral damage in an affair gone wrong.”

  “Rourke, please don’t speak to your father like that,” Mom began to say, but she was quickly cut off when he tore his eyes off my face and unleashed his death gaze on her.

  “Don’t even go there,” he warned, tone almost soft, eyes full of unrestrained anger. “You’re not my mother. In fact, you’re nothing to me. You’re just one more in a long line of poor fucking substitutes. So, you go right ahead and do what you want with him.” He cast a glance towards his father and sneered. “Fuck him. Repopulate the earth for all I care. But don’t ever think you’re gonna have a damn thing to do with me.”

  “Jesus Christ, Rourke,” his father groaned, rubbing his face with his hand. “Can’t you control yourself for one night?”

  “I don’t know, Dad,” Rourke shot back sarcastically. “I guess it runs in the family.” He cast a disgusted glance at my mother’s stomach and shook his head. “The whole lack of control thing.”

  “One more word, Rourke,” Gabe shot back in a threatening tone. “And I swear to god, I’ll pull your ass from the team this year.”

  I watched as Rourke’s face reddened to the point I thought it would burst. Then he exhaled a slow breath and nodded, offering a mumbled “sorry” to my mother.

  Ah, now I remembered. Football was a pretty huge deal around here. It was back home, too, but Mom had mentioned how Gabe’s son lived and breathed for the sport. Apparently, the Ocean Bay Falcons were two-time state champs and this year were going for their third in a row. Interesting.

  “That’s alright,” Mom replied sweetly, making Rourke grimace further. “I know this is hard for you. It’s going to take some time to adjust.”

  I knew how he felt then. Rourke thought Mom wasn’t being sincere. Her voice was sickly sweet and enough to drive her own daughter crazy. Rourke thought she was faking it. She wasn’t. Mom was a people pleaser and genuinely wanted this boy to like her. I, on the other hand, couldn’t care less.

  The last course of dinner was eaten in palpable silence.

  “That was delicious,” Gabe announced as he dropped his napkin on the table and rose from his chair. “But I’m exhausted.” Turning to my mother, he reached out a hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Let me show you to our room.”

  Ugh.

  “Your bedroom is on the second floor, right alongside Rourke’s,” Amelia explained as we walked back to the main foyer behind our parents. My eyes met hers and she smiled sympathetically. “It’s rea
lly bright and fresh and open. I think you’ll like it.”

  “I’m sure,” I muttered, unwilling to be cruel to this timid girl.

  “Sergio brought your bags in earlier,” she continued to say, nodding towards my duffel bag placed at the bottom of the staircase. “I can help you bring them up if you like?”

  “Sergio?”

  “Dad’s driver.”

  “Oh. Well, no. Thanks. I can manage,” I replied, patting the lone duffel bag before hoisting it up. Turning to Mom and Gabe, I asked, “Is my room to the left or right of the bannister?”

  “The right.” Gabe frowned at me like he couldn’t understand how a seventeen-year-old could have so little belongings.

  Two words, Gabe; food stamps.

  I preferred eating to wearing fancy clothes.

  Splurging every cent we had was my mother’s forte.

  One he would soon learn.

  “Is that all you have?” he asked.

  “I travel light,” I shot back. Everything I owned was contained in the bag in my hands and the backpack on my back.

  “Rourke,” Gabe announced then, calling on his son who was sulking in the corner. “Show Mercy where her room is.”

  “Do I look like your bellboy?” Rourke snarled, glaring at his father with an almost murderous expression. “Do it yourself.”

  “It’s fine,” I interjected, moving for the staircase. “I’ll find it myself.”

  “Now, Rourke!” Gabe hissed, displaying a little steel in his spine.

  As much as I despised Rourke, I hated the way Gabe just spoke to him.

  If he thought he was going to pull that parental bullshit on me then he had another thing coming. Mom and I had a different kind of a relationship. She had always taken a back seat to parenting. I was almost eighteen now, and I sure as hell didn’t need her getting any notions.

  “Fine, but she can carry her own shit,” Rourke growled, shoving roughly past me as he stalked up the marble staircase.

  I didn’t think that comment rendered a necessary reply, so I kept quiet. I was sure Rourke Owens and I would have plenty to fight about in the coming months. I planned on conserving my energy for the ones that mattered. Besides, I didn’t need his help.

  Asshole.

  When we reached the second floor, I followed him down a long hallway. He stopped at the second to last door on the left. Without saying a word, he turned the round doorknob and pushed the door inwards. My breath escaped my lungs in a heavy sigh when my eyes landed on the apartment sized bedroom that was to be mine.

  “See this door here,” he snarled, drawing my attention back to him as he pointed to the door next to mine, the one at the end. “You keep the fuck out of there. You get it, Six?”

  “Six?”

  He smiled cruelly. “Yeah. Six. You got a problem with that, Six?”

  I hated him.

  I knew that was a bold statement to make, having only met the guy, but I honest to god hated Rourke Owens with every fiber of my being.

  “I’ve got it, Prick.” He was a prick. There was no other way to say it.

  “This is my house,” he hissed, taking a step towards me, dwarfing me with his impressive frame. “Don’t get comfortable here. It’s temporary.”

  “About as temporary as your perfectly shaped nose if you don’t back the hell off and leave me alone,” I shot back.

  Rourke’s brows shot up in surprise. “You wanna take me on, Six?”

  “I’d eat you up and spit you out for breakfast, little boy,” I countered in a bored tone. He unnerved me like no one else, but I would rather die than let him know it.

  “I’m gonna break you, Six.” Backing away slowly, he cocked a brow and shot me a look that said he wasn’t one to make promises he couldn’t keep. “When I’m through with you, you’re gonna wish like hell you never came here.”

  I’m already wishing I didn’t come here!

  He smirked cruelly at me before stalking past me in the direction of the staircase, leaving me a bundle of nerves in the doorway.

  The moment he was out of sight, I exhaled a trembling breath.

  Yeah. I wasn’t too stubborn to admit that I was in serious trouble with Rourke Owens.

  Rourke

  “A WORD, ROURKE.” My father’s request came moments before he caught ahold of the back of my neck and shoved me through the foyer and out the front door. He was able to move me because I chose to go with him. If I hadn’t, then let’s just say, he wouldn’t have been successful.

  “What can I do for you, Dad?” I asked when we were both standing outside with the front door pulled out.

  “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Dad spat, his blue eyes full of unrestrained fury and focused solely on my face. “One dinner, Rourke. Would it have killed you to rein it in for one fucking dinner?”

  “What do you want from me?” I shot back, losing my cool façade. I was done with this bullshit. “I showed up to your shitty fucking family dinner,” I snarled. “I suffered sitting across from the woman you impregnated and traipsed into our home.” Running a hand through my hair, I bit back the urge to roar. “I’m trying more than you could ever comprehend.”

  “Well try harder, dammit,” he spat. “And stop letting me down!”

  “Stop letting you down?” I laughed humorlessly. “That’s ironic considering that’s all you’ve done my entire life.”

  “Rourke,” Dad called out wearily, but I was done. I was so fucking over all of this bullshit. Ripping off my shirt, I broke into a run. I needed to get as far away from this house as I could.

  Mercedes

  MY ROOM, I BEGRUDGINGLY had to admit, was fabulous. It was south facing and based at the rear of the house so I had a direct view of the water line. All I could see from the floor to ceiling window was blue skies, bluer water, and pale, golden sand.

  A tiny part of me agreed with my mother as I laid my eyes on the magnificent scenery. This place was certainly better than the one-bedroom apartment we’d come from. The smell of salt in my lungs. The sounds of wildlife and waves crashing against the rocks. Everything was foreign to me. I’d lived in many places over the years, but none of them held a spark to the beauty that was Ocean Bay.

  Unpacking my belongings in the walk-in closet at the far end of my room didn’t take long. I hadn’t been lying when I told Gabe I traveled light. Four pairs of jeans, a half dozen hoodies, a week’s supply of bras and panties, a pair of cut off denim shorts, a plain navy bikini, and an armful of shirts and tanks took up a grand total of two drawers in the impressive closet.

  After unpacking, I took a ridiculously long shower in the adjoining bathroom. Yeah, my own bathroom? Another thing I’d never had before. Damn you, Gabe. Don’t make me like living here!

  When I was finished showering and had dressed in jeans and a tee, I walked back to the queen-sized bed and sank down. What was I supposed to do now?

  Slipping my hand into my faithful backpack, I retrieved my cell and swiped my thumb across the screen.

  8:45pm

  Great. I was a night owl. I struggled with sleeping. I usually had too much on my mind – not to mention too much work to get done – to find any sort of rest before 2am.

  Deciding to take a walk around the house, I slipped on my Converse and tucked my backpack in the back of the closet before stepping out. I didn’t know these people, and sure, I didn’t have much in the line of capital value to steal, but my shit belonged to me.

  There were five rooms on the second level of the house. One of which belonged to me, the other Rourke. Nosy, I peeked into the other rooms and found an enormous bathroom with the biggest egg shaped tub I’d ever laid eyes on. Another door led to what appeared to be a game room. There was a large L-shaped, black leather couch, a pool table, a dart board, and a big ass television mounted to the wall. Rourke’s man cave, I decided. The fifth door was at the opposite end of the hallway to my bedroom and it was locked.

  Opposite to that, there was narrow marble staircase l
eading up to another door. Of course, I had to check it out. Hurrying up to the top of the steps, I reached a hand out only to snatch it back when the sound of my mother moaning and panting filled my ears.

  “Oh, Gabe, yes! You always know how I like it…”

  Scarred for life, I retreated down the steps, nauseated and heaving. So, Mom and Gabe’s room was on the third floor.

  As I descended down the staircase to the ground floor, I made a mental note to never go up to the third floor and put myself through that mental anguish again. Ugh.

  Downstairs, everything was quiet and I immersed myself in the sound of silence. It sure as hell beat the sound of Gabe giving it to my mother. Ugh. Don’t hurl, Merc. Block it out.

  Shuddering, I wandered around, opening every door I walked past. In my travels, I found a sitting room, the dining room we’d had our dinner in earlier tonight, two empty bedrooms, three more bathrooms, a gigantic kitchen, and Amelia’s room. “I’m so sorry,” I muttered when I opened the bedroom door and noticed her sitting on her bed. “I didn’t know this was your room.”

  “It’s okay,” she replied with a serene smile. Placing the book she had in her hands down beside her, she waved me in.

  I shook my head and smiled. I wasn’t going in there. I wasn’t ready for a friendship with her and I knew she would offer me one. “I really wasn’t trying to snoop,” I heard myself explain. “I’m just trying to find my feet. This house is ridiculously big.”

  “It is,” she agreed, her voice a softer female version of her brother’s southern drawl. “I bet it’s daunting; coming here?”

  “Understatement of the century,” I shot back with a smirk, remaining by the door. “This place is the polar opposite of where I came from.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, looking around at her pink painted walls. “Our last apartment had one bedroom. I slept on the fold out couch in the kitchen slash living room.” I grinned when my eyes landed on the antique looking dressing table, lined with rows of perfumes and lotions. What I would have given to have a dressing table like that when I was fifteen. “We are worlds apart, really.”