Threat (6 page)

Whatever, at least I can see.

I throw on some clothes and head down stairs. The buzzing sound from
the kitchen gets louder and louder the closer I get. The first thing
I see, of course, is Threat. I just can escape him, can I? It's like
everywhere I go, he follows. Even if he was technically down here
first.

He's standing there mixing up god-knows-what in
my
blender,
while using
my
laptop. The entire kitchen counter is a mess
with the remnants of cut up fruits, vegetables and powder from a
giant jar of Designer Whey. I'm not cleaning this shit up.

He looks up at me from over my laptop. “Here she is, perfect
timing,” he says.

I side eye him as I approach. “Perfect timing for what?”
I ask. “And what are you doing with my laptop?”

He beckons me with a finger. “Come on over and see.”

I rush around to the other side of the island, and right there on the
screen I see my dad with a woman I don’t recognize.

“Hey hun!” He greets me giddily as they both wave at the
web cam. At least he doesn't seem upset after last night's
conversation.

“I came down and saw your dad was calling you, so I picked it
up,” he says, pouring himself a glass of thick, goopy green
liquid. “You're welcome.”

Oye.

I redirect my attention back to the laptop. “Morning, Dad.”

“Leah, this is Janet. My wife,” he says.

I force a big smile across my face. She looks a hell of a lot more
normal than I expected, with dark hair like David's, and not a tattoo
in sight, albeit with a little too much make up and obviously fake
breasts. She's also seems younger than I anticipated—did she
have him when she was five or something?

She grins, baring her straight and blindingly white teeth as the
bangles on her wrist jingle while she waves at the web cam. “It's
so good to finally meet you! Well, I mean, sort of meet you. Your dad
said so, so many great things about you!” she says.

How did someone like her produce a son like Threat? She seems peppy,
happy, and well adjusted. All things Threat is not.

“It's nice to meet you too.”

She clasps her hands in front of her chest. “Thank you so, so
much for being such a good host to David—”

“
Threat
,” he interjects.

“—while he gets situated. He was so nervous about meeting
you and moving in with new people.”

I snicker and glance up at him; he looks pissed. It's hard to imagine
him ever being nervous about anything.

“Stop talking. You're rambling,” he tells her.

Janet's smile goes tight and awkward. “Sorry,” she says
uncomfortably. “I'm just so, so glad you two kids are getting
along!”

Could she add any more “so's” to her sentences?

Threat wraps his arm around me pulls me hard against his side.
Ouch!
What the fuck, he's going to leave a bruise on my shoulder. He grins,
giving the camera one big thumbs up. “Yup, big old happy family
right here,” he says, and proceeds to give me a noogie. Dammit,
I just fixed my hair.

I can only smile uncertainly, going along with the bullshit for our
parent's sake. His mom clutches her hands against her chest again—is
she really falling for all this? That's almost laughable. She seems
sweet and well meaning, almost to a fault. I can see why she and my
dad get along; he just might have found the one person even more
naive and trusting than him. He sits there with his left eyebrow
raised and he doesn't seem to know what to make of the whole charade.

“Uh, you sure everything's okay there, princess?” he asks
me.

Threat looks down at me, still holding me tight against his side. A
little line appears beneath his stubble, partially framing his
twisted smile. “Everything okay,
princess
?” he
mouths.

No. Everything is terrible and
nothing
is okay, because David,
aka
Threat
, is still a terror and invades my personal space at
every turn. And worst of all,
he tried to fucking kiss me
.

Tried and succeeded.

And worst of all, I think I like it when he touches me.

“Everything’s good,” I reply weakly.

Dad smiles. “That's good to hear.” He looks happy, and
ultimately, that's all that I want.

Janet looks at him. “So should we tell her?” she asks
playfully.

Tell me what?

Dad scratches his chin. “Hmm, I don’t know, should we?”

“What exactly are you guys talking about?” I ask.

“How about I tell her?” Threat chimes in.

They both nod. “Go ahead and tell her, son.”

Do I even want to know?

Threat turns to me, and full of fake enthusiasm says, “We're
going on a road trip!”

THREAT

Leah's face drops. “What?”

“A road trip? It's this thing people with friends do. I'll fill
you in on the details later.”

She purses her lips but the dig seems to fly right over Mom and
Colin's head.

“Okay, you go ahead and do that, son!” Mom says.

God, she's fucking annoying.

“And sir thank you again for taking me in, I truly appreciate
it,” I say in my most endearing voice I can muster. I can see
Leah's crooked glance out of the corner of my eye the second I call
him
sir
.

Colin looks impressed. What a fucking sucker. “Well that's very
nice of you, um, Threat,” he says. “But really you don't
have to thank me for a thing. What's ours is yours, you're part of
the family now.”

“And it feels good to finally have a family.”

“Oh, God,” Leah mumbles under her breath. I pull her in
closer by the shoulders.

“Well we'll see you guys in two days,” Colin continues.
“I'll text the address of the cabin to both of you. Try not to
get into too much trouble and drive safe, okay? You have precious
cargo with you!”

Yeah, right
.

I put on a bright and cheery smile. “Will do, sir.”

“Just call me Colin.”

Mom starts waving like a lunatic, once again. “Can't wait to
meet you in person, Leah!” she says. “Love you Dav—”
I shut off the web cam before she embarrasses me any more.

“Good God, we might have the dumbest parents of all time.”

Leah throws my arm off of her and shoots me a judgmental glare. “
Sir
?
Really? Way to lay it on thick.”

I spread my arms wide. “He fell for it, didn't he? Like I said,
dumbest parents ever.”

“No wonder you fit in perfectly,” she says, haughtily
raising her brows as she reaches for a bagel on the counter.

Some things don't change, and Leah Parker is one of them. She's still
the same uppity, know-it-all bitch that I remember from school. Just
in a much better looking package. Holy hell, she's kind of hot in a
strange, sexy librarian sort of way, which is honestly remarkable
compared to how she looked as a freshman. Or am I just losing my
mind? Whatever. I can put up with her if it means proving something
to Pop, and my tongue can be just as sharp as hers.

I look down at her food as I take a sip of my protein drink. “Sure
you should be eating that?”

She stops instantly, her mouth dropping open. “What does that
mean?” she asks like she doesn't really want to hear the
answer.

I shrug. “I don't know I just thought maybe you wouldn't want
to blow up again like you did in sixth grade.”

Now she looks insulted, and I guess my job here is done.

“You fucking
asshole
.”

“What?
I'm
an asshole because I'm trying to help you?”

She groans, picking up the bagel and chucking it at my head. It hits
me smack dab in the eye.

“Shit!” I shout. I'm pretty sure there's a crumb lodged
right underneath my lid.

“Hah! You deserved that,
bro
.”

“God, you're fucking touchy. And violent.”

“You called me fat.
Again
. You deserved it.”

“I didn’t fucking call you fat, dumbass,” my eyes
pan down her body and I almost lose my train of thought. She's only
wearing these tight gray yoga pants that cling to the curves of her
hips. Fuck, does she know what pants like that make a man think? Fat
she is not. “Your body is perfect and I thought maybe you'd
like to keep it that way.”

Her face softens, she sorta seems taken aback, but she doesn’t
say a thing. Shit, why did I say that? Yeah, I meant it—she
might have been a little bit chubby back then, but now she has curves
in all the right places—cute waist, shapely hips, thighs I'd
like to bite. Whoever gave her this makeover deserves a Nobel Prize.
Truth be told, she was always kind of cute; not that I'd admit that
to anyone, ever. And she doesn't need to know I like anything about
her.

“Here.” I grab a cup and pour the remainder of my protein
drink into it. I slide it in front of her. “Drink this.”

She takes one look at it and for a second I think she's going to
hurl.

Her eyes widen when she glances back up at me. “You've gotta be
fucking kidding me.”

“Just try it, okay? Don't be so damn closed-minded.”

She snatches it away from me and looks down into the glass. Her nose
turns up as she smells it.

“I'm not closed-minded,” she mumbles. “Or a
dumbass.”

“Then drink it.”

She twists her mouth as she glances back and forth between me and the
glass with uncertainty. I help her out a bit, tipping the glass
toward her. She takes a quick sip, and then her eyes shut tight and
her tongue is hanging out of her mouth like she's tasted the foulest
flavor in the world.

“What the hell!” she calls out.

I grab my stomach, almost doubling over with laughter.

“Ugh, what the hell is in that?”

“It's probably the onion.”

She looks up at me incredulously. “You seriously drink this?
Every day?”

“Twice per day.”

She seems oddly impressed. “Now that's dedication.”

“Finish the drink. Those ingredients don't come cheap.”

She hesitantly raises the glass back to her lips. This time she holds
her nose as she finishes the last few sips. “Blech,” she
says afterward, throwing the glass into the sink.

“See now that wasn't so difficult, was it?”

She wipes the edge of her mouth. “Believe me, it was.”

“It's more of an acquired taste.”

“I'm sure.” She pauses for a moment and then adds, “Well,
I guess your protein drink didn't work. I'm still hungry so I'm still
going to eat a bagel,” as she moves toward the fridge. “And
don't you dare say a damn thing about it.”

I lean over the counter. “How about this. If you stop treating
me like I'm stupid I'll stop calling you names. Capiche?”

“Hmm,” she thinks. “That would be terribly
difficult for me. I mean, there's just so much material to work
with.”

“You see? There you go again.”

“I can't help it,” she says as she cuts into her food.

“For one thing, I'm not dumb. I'm not a high school dropout,
either. I got my diploma.”

“That's right, they do give out high school diplomas in juvi,
don't they?”

“And you can stop bringing that up while you’re at it.
And I'll never call you hermit or turtle again. Truce?”

She's nearly fuming just from hearing me repeat those two words.
“Fine. Truce,” she begrudgingly agrees. She pops her
bagel into the toaster. “We'll see how long you can hold out.”

I fold my arms over my bare chest, leaning against the counter on the
far side of the spacious kitchen. “Oh you won't have to worry
about me.”

She stares me down from across the way, her gaze dropping to my arms
for a split second before she forces herself to look away. I can’t
help but smirk at her thinking I didn’t notice. Even I can't
deny that this pose makes my arms look really fucking good.

“And while you're at it maybe you can be a little nicer to your
mom,” she adds as she butters her bagel.

I have to pause and check if my ears are working right. Did she
seriously just talk about my mom and me? “Maybe you could mind
your own damn business while you're at it,” I snap. Who the
fuck does she think she is, criticizing our relationship when she
doesn't know shit about me?

“I’m just saying you were unnecessarily rude to her for
no reason.”

For a moment I'm questioning whether this conversation is really
happening. Great, now I've got two meddling bitches in my life. Maybe
dad was right and moving in here was a bad idea after all.

Nah, they've got a Jacuzzi.

“You saw her. She's a fucking airhead.”

Her eyes go wide. “She's your
mother
.”

“She's an idiot and a whore!”

Leah's mouth gapes. “How can you say something like that?”

“Easily. Just wait until you get to know her. As soon as you
have to spend more than two seconds around her you'll hate her too.”

“You don't really hate your mother.”

I don't? Well that's news to me. “How would you feel if your
mom was out sucking dicks for cash?”

“Wait...what?!” She pauses, and then her eyes narrow.
“You're making that up, right?”

“Just answer the question.”

She turns away silently, her face suddenly going blank. “I
wouldn’t know because I don't have a mom,” she says with
a shrug.

“Oh.” That wasn't the response I was expecting, and her
nonchalance about it throws me off guard. “She dead or
something?”

Leah shakes her head. “Nah, she just doesn't give a shit about
me. Haven't seen her since I was a kid.” She seems completely
not bothered by this and I have to wonder if it's all an act. If it
is, it's a good one.

“Sorry,” I tell her. And I mean it.

She blinks, looking up at me with confusion. “Why? I'm not,”
she says and returns her attention to her breakfast.

Okay.
Even for me, that was awkward, but it doesn't seem to
faze Leah at all. Whatever. I don't want her prying into my family so
I won’t pry into hers.