CHAPTER ONE

Grey

“Where do you think you went wrong?” I woke to the sound of my mom’s exasperated voice. I could picture her peering at me from the foot of my bed, arms crossed and hip cocked. I knew that tone like the back of my hand.

“Me? You’re the one who let him go gallivanting off to Europe when he was seventeen.” Now my dad.

Great. I kept my eyes closed and my breathing even, hoping they’d eventually get bored of whatever performance they were putting on and leave me the hell alone. Was the sun even up? I refused to pry open my peepers to check.

“I sent him on an educational school-sponsored field trip with multiple chaperones.” My mom came from a wealthy family and traveled her entire childhood. She’d been happy to send me to another country for some culture and diversity.

My dad snorted out a laugh. “Yeah well, he got an education all right. That nudist beach they finally found him on will never be the same.”

My mom gasped. “Maybe the nudists wouldn’t have been so friendly if you hadn’t let him pierce his pecker for his sixteenth birthday.” I cringed. I didn’t love my mom talking about my dick, or calling it a pecker like I was a toddler.

“Oh, c’mon. It was a little baby bar through his shaft. It’s the boring kind of dick piercing.”

Wake me up at the crack of dawn? Fine. Insult my dick piercing? Absolutely not. I plucked the pillow from under my cheek, using it to cover my ears as I groaned, “You’re both atrocious parents. Now please go away.”

“I’ll take credit for his remarkable vocabulary.”

“You would.” I could all but hear my dad’s eyeroll in his voice.

“Go. The. Frick. Away.” I might have been a twenty-one-year-old world traveler with a pierced dick, but I was still residing under my parents’ roof. And as cool as they were, I would’ve gotten popped on the back of the head for cussing in front of my mom.

My mom shook my shoulders. “It’s time to get up.”

Someone tore the blanket from my body. Cold. It was December in north Texas and it was cold in my room. “What? Why?” My money was on my dad stealing my covers. My mom was probably too scared I was sleeping naked.

“If you think you’re spending winter break sleeping ’til noon and having your mommy do your laundry, you have another thing coming, my dude.” My dad ruffled my hair, then yanked it a little.

My mom grabbed my face, pinching my cheeks together. “Yep, it’s take your son to work day for all the days in your foreseeable future.”

“Dad’s shop doesn’t even open until noon.” I reached down around my ankles, trying to find my covers without actually opening my eyes. I’d made a mental stand and I refused to budge.

“Oh, you silly boy. You’re not going with your father.” My mom tsked. “You got in trouble, big trouble. Real trouble. That requires real big punishment.”

“And my shop is nothing more than an all you can eat buffet for your pierced and tattoo’d little ass.” I could hear the smirk and slight admiration in my dad’s voice. “Literally.”

“I think I might vomit.” My mom gagged, and then her shoes padded across the floor to the other side of my room. I heard my closet open. My eyes were still closed because at this point it was a game I was playing with myself. How long could I pretend that I was going to be allowed to go back to sleep. “You will be working with me, at the art gallery.”

“Nooooooooooooooooo.” I flopped around on my mattress, throwing an actual tantrum like an angry child. My mom’s gallery, while esteemed, was boring as hell. Tattoo artists were a blast, the pretentious artists my mom tended to work with? Not so much. They took themselves way too seriously and didn’t get my humor. Hell, they probably didn’t understand satire in its entirety.

“We had to pick you up from jail. We had to beg the university not to place you on suspension.” The hangers in my closet scrapped across the wooden rod holding up my clothes, which meant my mom was looking for something suitable for me to wear. “You’re lucky we aren’t shipping you off to some sort of hard-core scare ’em straight military school.”

I knew I was lucky. I also knew that my mom’s parents, Babs and Pop-Pop, made a donation to the new art center on campus to help smooth things over. I was their only grandchild. They worshipped me. I could do no wrong in their eyes. Too bad my own parents weren’t of the same mind set.

I gave in and sat up, wrists hanging over my knees, eyes peeking open to greet the shitastic day. “You throw one little rave—”

“You threw it in the dean’s building. You gave his daughter MDMA.” It was rare for my dad to be in for a punishment, he was more of the live and let learn mindset. I’d really pissed them off this time if he was standing shoulder to shoulder with my mom and reading me the riot act.

I started ticking off points on my fingers, once again pleading my case. “Uh, numero uno, the dean’s building is the only place on campus with a rooftop terrace. I wanted my guests to be able to see the meteor shower. It was basically a science elective. I should’ve been awarded extra credit. Dos: I didn’t give her molly. The invite clearly stated, BYOD. D being drugs. I’m not an idiot, and I’m not a dealer. She found her own molly and was rolling when she got there. And number uh, tres? Honestly, it’s a miracle the dean didn’t show up three minutes earlier because if he had he would have caught me railing her tight ass across his de—”

“Nope.” My mom cut me off, coming out of my closet with a button-down shirt I didn’t even know I owned. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, I don’t need details.”

“But the details are what prove that not all of the ‘incident’ was my fault. So really, my punishment should be sterilization tech and front office bitch for dad.” I shrugged, almost feeling the tattoos on my shoulders dancing with the movement. “The dean’s daughter’s daddy issues are not my bad.” I glanced up at my father, checking to see if I was getting anywhere.

His lips were pinched together into a hard line. He was trying to look stern. His eyes always gave him away though. I could tell he found my argument at least mildly compelling and somewhat amusing. I waggled my eyebrows, but he gave a slight shake of his head. I sighed, dropping my gaze in resignation. I’d lost before I even started. If dad was too afraid to crack a smile, mom must be really upset.

“Fine.” I climbed out of bed, grabbing the stiff shirt from my mom. “I’ll put on boring clothes and go hang out with the holier than thou artists and suffer through my winter break. Merry Christmas to me.” I understood I needed to be punished. I knew I’d crossed a new line with jail time. But still. This sucked.

“Apologize to your mother.” My dad narrowed his brilliant blue eyes, obviously not appreciating my take on the art gallery vibe. “Now.” Damn. I could count on one hand the number of times I’d heard my dad use that tone, and it was never with me.

I stepped forward and wrapped my mom in a hug. “I’m sorry you had to pick me up from jail, and I’m sorry I threw a rave.” It was a tiny rave, a baby rave. Really, it was little more than good lighting and a few speakers. I admit the location could’ve been more inconspicuous, but I was trying to think out of the box and help people trip under the stars. I was a visionary, and we as a people are rarely understood.

She squeezed me tight. “And?”

I pulled away, lips pursed. “And what?” Her eyebrows disappeared into her red hairline. “I’m not apologizing for fucking the dean’s daughter.”

My mom popped me on the back of my head, saving my dad the trouble.