Dude Interrupted Read online

  And so there, on the kitchen table in Ginger Stanley’s kitchen, with my jeans pushed down around my ankles, and her bare feet resting on my shoulders, I fucked Mandy Jo Reynolds, while people from the party came in and out of the kitchen, to grab more beer or ice, some even stopping to watch us for a minute or two, before going back out to the party.

  Yeah, after all I said about keeping shit private and not being tacky? Fuck me and the hypocrite I am. But the deal was Mandy had wanted it exactly the way I was giving it to her at that moment.

  Not my finest hour, I knew.

  But things were about to go downhill from there, trust me.

  Chapter 3

  “I think it’s miraculous that anybody survives themselves.” - Robert Downey Jr.

  “Bryce Slater?” the deputy at the county jail barked from just outside the holding cell, “Your bail’s been paid. Front and center.”

  I leapt up from the hard cot I’d been stretched out on, and ran a hand through my tousled hair. A feeling of dread enveloped me because I knew what I was about to walk into was going to be much worse than what I was leaving.

  I wasn’t about to let my parents see that I was uptight about any of this shit. What the fuck? Police raid on a freaking spring break party?

  Busting high school seniors, how lame was that?

  And so what? Some underage drinking; a bit of weed, what the hell?

  I sauntered out of the cell as soon as he pressed the electronic button that unlocked the cell door and followed him down the corridor. There was yet another electronic door we had to pass through, and then a hallway with a swinging door that led out into the reception area. I was the last one to be bailed out. No doubt my parents had managed that by design. I’m sure they wanted to teach me a lesson. Give me a bit of tough love sprinkled with scared straight.

  Yeah, I don’t think so.

  The cops hadn’t issued me a warning like I’d demanded.

  “No such luck, lover boy,” the cop had responded as I’d pulled my jeans up and buttoned the fly. “You’re eighteen. It’s the big, scary house for you. Let’s go,” he barked as he ordered me to put my hands behind my back so that he could cuff me like some dangerous mother-fucking criminal.

  “Oh my God!” Mandy had screamed when the cops barged into the kitchen just after we’d finished. I’d been trying like hell to scrape the ripped condom off my dick so I could get rid of it, and she’d been pulling her panties up when they’d made their presence known. “My dad is going to totally freak. He’s gonna whip my ass.” And then she proceeded to have the second meltdown of the night.

  Chicks.

  Too many freaking emotions for my taste.

  As I stood waiting for my old man to sign my release sheet, I didn’t make eye contact with anyone. But my peripheral vision was keen, and I could see my mother dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. A soft sob escaped her lips.

  “It’s gonna be okay, babe,” my father assured her before he turned to glare at me. “Let’s go boy. We’re going to have a man-to-man when we get home.”

  “Tight,” I muttered, following them out into the crisp morning chill of early April.

  The ride home was done in total silence which was fine by me. I even managed to doze off for a few minutes being that I didn’t get much sleep after the deputy dumped me in that stinking holding cell. It had reeked of piss and puke.

  Once inside the house, I started up the stairs towards my room when my father’s voice bellowed up to me. “Get your fucking ass down here, Bryce! I said we’re going to talk, and that’s exactly what we’re going to do… now!”

  I turned and shuffled back downstairs, not missing the fact that his blue eyes, the ones that matched mine, had darkened to an intensity that rivaled thunder clouds. It was his own damn shade of pissed. And my father’s anger, more often than not, was directed at me.

  I collapsed down on the sofa, and propped my legs up on the coffee table. “Let’s have it,” I mumbled, half-heartedly stifling a yawn.

  “You’ve got a real ugly attitude going on there, don’t you son?”

  “You tell me, Dad.”

  “Bryce,” my mother interjected softly, her voice quivering a bit, which honestly, did twist my gut for some reason, “can you please tell us why you continue to… to act out like this? Have we somehow failed you?”

  God, I hated when she got all teary-eyed over small shit like this. Why did my mother choose to believe that my fuck-ups, big or small, were somehow a product of her failure to do this or that? Why couldn’t they just accept the fact that I wasn’t some replicant programmed to be the perfect son? The follower in my dad’s footsteps? The willing participant in the life they so obviously had choreographed for me?

  “Mom,” I said with a sigh, “it was just a party. What’s the big deal about some booze and some weed? It’s not like you two probably didn’t do your fair share of it at my age. Oh—that’s right. I forgot. You were already knocked up and married by this time, weren’t you, Mom?”

  Immediately my dad was on his feet and standing inches from me. His eyes were nearly black with rage. Just as he was about haul me up, my mother’s words stopped him. “Eric, no!” she cried, “We promised each other, remember? Let him push our buttons. He only gets satisfaction when we react to it. Remember what Taz said, honey.”

  My father stepped back, and crossed his arms, taking a defensive pose, but he made no move to sit back down.

  I snickered. “Ah, I see you brought the family shrink into the mix. Damn, I feel special,” I replied with a smirk.

  My older, half-sister Lindsey had married my father’s best friend, and former FBI partner, Taz Matthews. Taz now taught at the academy. He was a Ph.D. All in all, he was a pretty cool dude, but I couldn’t help making a jab at the fact they’d obviously consulted with him about what to do with their oldest son.

  “Bryce Eric Slater,” my mother continued, “You will not continue to disrespect your father, your brother or me. We’ve reached our limit with you. We love you, but we will no longer be enablers of the lifestyle you’ve chosen to bring into our home. It isn’t fair to the rest of us.”

  My father now got into the spiel. “We’ve made arrangements for you once you graduate–if you graduate,” he corrected, putting the emphasis on the word if. “Your grades obviously aren’t acceptable to most of the area colleges, and you’ve made it abundantly clear you aren’t interested in a higher education anyway, so with Taz’s help, we’ve found a job for you.”

  “A job?” I asked, now wondering just what the hell they had in store for me. “I’m not going into the military, Dad. I’ve told you that repeatedly.”

  My dad scoffed at the very notion. “Hah,” he said derisively, “They want a few good men, son. I don’t think you qualify.”

  “Thank fuck.”

  “Watch your mouth!” he bellowed, tossing me a glare. The tick in his cheek was prominent. Yeah, he was near his limit I could tell. I remained silent; suddenly interested to see just what their plan was for me.

  “After graduation at the end of May, you will be going to work on a horse ranch in Bristol, Virginia. An old friend of Taz’s family has agreed to put you on the payroll. You’ll live and work there.”

  “For how long?” I asked.

  “At a minimum, until you pay off your fine for your latest infraction, and court costs. We aren’t covering it. After that, as long as you want. You just might like it.”

  All in all, it didn’t sound half bad, but there had to be some kind of catch. I knew my old man. He wasn’t going to let me off the hook that damn easy. Why send me away? I could pay off the legal crap flipping burgers locally. “So, what kind of job will I have? I don’t know crap about horses,” I remarked.

  “Since you’ve got an aversion to using your brain, Bryce, no worries, I assure you. You’ll use your brawn from dawn to dusk. Cleaning stalls, shoveling horse shit, washing them down, and anything else you’re ord
ered to do there.”

  And there it was. Shoveling horse shit was the catch. I scoffed at the notion. “What? Oh hell no. No way.”

  And then my father’s face was mere inches from mine. His eyes locked with mine, and a snarl erupted from him as he ground out his next words.

  “Oh hell yes,” he growled, “Because here’s the deal I worked out with the local authorities. You don’t agree to this plan, and you’re going to be facing charges as an adult for your behavior at that party. You’re gonna get charged with everything from possession of marijuana to indecent exposure to littering. You agree to this deal, you get charged with disorderly conduct, which is a minor misdemeanor that you can have wiped from your record in a year. That is, if you can stay out of trouble for that long. That remains to be seen. With everybody doing background checks these days even for minimum wage jobs, trust me, that’s gotta be worth something–even to you. So, that’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

  My first inclination was to say, “Fuck that, I don’t give a damn.” Or to tell him I at least needed to think about it if not to simply yank his chain. But I’d never seen the old man so furious, and I was stupid to press my luck any further. Besides, if I didn’t accept the deal it’d be biting off my nose to spite my face.

  My father had used his position to make this deal, and even though the charges would all be misdemeanors, I knew that having multiples at the same time would make them unexpungeable. Fuck that. I didn’t need that kind of negative shit following me around for the rest of my life.

  My old man had me; that was obvious. I wasn’t about to let him think he’d won though.

  “You know. That just might be dope. It will at least get me out from under your watchful eye. I can hang.”

  “Well that’s good to know, Bryce,” my father replied, “Oh and until then? Yeah, we’ve taken your car and are storing it at an undisclosed location. You’ll get it back… when you turn your life around. That’s up to you.”

  “What?” I yelled. He now had my full attention. “How am I expected to get to and from school?”

  “The bus. Just like Sidney does,” my mother answered, referring to my douche bag younger brother who was a freshman.

  Oh hell to the fucking no.

  “Well what about when I’m in wherever-it-was Virginia?”

  “You won’t need wheels there, son. Everything you need is right there or within walking distance.”

  “That seriously blows,” I blurted, totally pissed at the fact that he appeared so smug and righteous as he towered over me.

  I stood up so that we were now facing one another as equals–in height anyway. “Is that all? Can I go to my room now, or do you have any more punishment you want to lay on me?”

  “That’s it. Well, except it goes without saying you’re grounded. School and home. That’s the extent of your life for the next six weeks.”

  “Got it,” I snapped, making my exit from the living room and heading up the stairs. I managed to hear my mother’s parting comment, although I refused to acknowledge it.

  “We really do love you, Bryce. We want you to succeed, don’t you get that?”

  Chapter 4

  Six weeks later…

  A Greyhound bus.

  A fucking Greyhound bus had been the mode of transportation my parents had provided me from Decatur to Bristol. So, a typical four and a half hour drive turned into a seven hour trip with all the damn stops it made in rinky-dink towns to drop off passengers, and pick up more. The majority of whom seemed to be in need of a shower and some deodorant.

  Fuck my life.

  I hoisted up my backpack and then grabbed the suitcase the driver had placed on the asphalt next to the bus.

  As I walked towards the bus terminal to wait for whomever from the ranch had been assigned to pick my ass up, I glanced at the two lane highway that led up to this tiny piece of asphalt and concrete and saw a chick with a sign.

  Yep. A sign.

  Like the ones you might see at the airport when a chauffeur was given the task to hang out there to shuttle an important client to wherever for his employer.

  Except this was a freakin’ Greyhound Bus Terminal in what appeared to be a smaller town than Decatur. The sign read: Slater.

  But the chick holding it? Well, she wasn’t your typical chauffeur type by a long shot. She was petite, but not fragile. She had shoulder length blondish streaked brown hair that was poker straight. Oh, and she had perky tits.

  The reason I knew her tits were perky was because she was wearing a tank top, along with olive drab cargo shorts that kinda made her ass look epic with her toned and tanned legs displayed nicely.

  I sauntered over to where she stood on the sidewalk.

  “Looking for me?” I asked, cocking an eyebrow.

  “If you’re Bryce Slater I am,” she replied. Her eyes were a weird shade of brown…a golden amber really. Like tiger eyes.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’m him.”

  “And I’m Avery,” she replied, giving me a smile and holding out her hand to me. I didn’t take it. Handshaking was for losers I’d decided a long time ago. So I simply nodded.

  Her eyes flickered over me as if she was taking full inventory in a way that made me strangely uncomfortable. “Okkkay, class act I see,” she commented as she turned and walked towards the parking lot.

  I didn’t budge. She was a mouthy chick. I didn’t appreciate the type.

  She’d walked about ten yards before she stopped and turned around, seeing that I hadn’t made a move to follow her. I saw the look of annoyance on her face as she traipsed back over to where I was standing and copped a pose of her own, “Umm…what are you waiting for, Slater? An engraved invitation? If you want a ride to the ranch your transportation is leaving now. Otherwise you can hoof it. It’s about twelve miles. It’s your decision.”

  She was tapping her foot impatiently, waiting for my response.

  Oh, what the hell. The little shit probably didn’t win too many battles of the will. Maybe I’d make her day and let her have this one.

  “Lead the way, Princess,” I said, gracing her with my panty-melting smile.

  She rolled her eyes and turned back around as I dutifully followed her to where a small, red pickup truck was parked. “Throw your stuff in the back,” she directed, climbing into the driver’s side.

  I did as she said and climbed into the passenger side.

  “Fasten up. Ranch rules.”

  I released a sigh and fastened my seat belt, and then grabbed a smoke from the pack of cigs I had in the pocket of my tee shirt. Before I could even reach for my lighter, her voice rang out loud and clear.

  “Uhh…no. Smoking is prohibited in the vehicle and in all areas of the ranch. We embrace a smoke free and healthy environment for our workers, visitors, and livestock. So, it’s time to kick the habit, Ace. You can thank me after your next chest x-ray,” she finished, giving me a sarcastic smile.

  I shoved my cigarette back into the pack, unwilling and too tired to spar with the chick over the fucking rules and regulations she was already preaching to me.

  Who was she anyway? One of the team leaders or staff supervisors who’d obviously allowed the supervisory role to go to her head.

  I wasn’t worried about it though.

  I’d do my job and then hopefully, find some cool peeps to party with in town. It was a job. Big deal. It wasn’t my life.

  “So,” she said, “When we get to the ranch, I’ll show you your quarters. We went ahead and stocked your fridge and cupboards with the staples. You’ll want to make a trip to the market though to fully stock up since the ranch doesn’t provide staff meals.”

  “Does this place sell beer?” I asked.

  “Sure does,” she chirped happily. “For those over twenty-one, they do. It appears you don’t qualify though. How bad does that suck, huh? I did take the opportunity to skim your file, Slater. And let me say this, we have a zero toleranc
e policy with respect to breaking the rules here. Underage drinking, getting high, and behaving inappropriately while you’re here won’t be tolerated. With your…uh…recent circumstances, I don’t think you’ll want to test our patience. Just sayin’.”

  I turned to gaze at her. “And just what do you know about my recent circumstances?” I snapped. I mean what the hell? Was nothing private anymore?

  “Hey, it’s my job to know deets like that about the summer help. There are liability issues, not to mention the stellar reputation that has existed for many years at Sinclair Stables and Racetrack.”

  Damn if this bitch hadn’t willingly drunk the corporate Kool-Aid. I smirked and then realized what she’d just said. “Whoa, hold up there, Princess. What’s this shit about summer help? My understanding was this gig could last well indefinitely.”

  She glanced over at me as she signaled to make a left turn onto yet another country road. “It could,” she remarked, “But Slater, I don’t see you lasting beyond the summer.”

  The chick was a genuine smartass. How could she possibly make that assessment after spending all of five minutes around me? I wasn’t going to allow her to push my buttons. What was it Taz had told my parents? People only do that to get a reaction? Yeah, well I wasn’t going to give the little shrimp the satisfaction. I turned my head and gazed out the window as if all of this, including her, was of no particular interest to me.

  The rest of the ride was spent in silence before we apparently arrived at our destination. What the hell?

  My mother’s words played in my head. “Everything you need is there or within walking distance?” This place was out in the boonies. I hadn’t seen one strip mall, liquor store, or even a Wal-Mart the whole way here.

  As she pulled her pickup truck from the two lane road onto a long winding drive that was flanked by fenced horse pastures on either side, I swiveled my head to both sides before finally blurting out, “There isn’t a damn thing around here, is there?”