Page 52 of The Stepbrother 2: Noah

“First, my company is my company. Compton Avenue will never be run by someone who doesn’t have my godfather's or my blood in their veins, married or not. Second, I don’t see how any of those labels would keep me from running a label. I was born into music. My godfather showed me the ins and outs of the business for as long as I can remember. I know good music because my parents are some of the most famous artists in the world. What don’t I have that I need to possess to run the company I have been successfully running for five years?"

The grandfather opened his mouth to say something, and something told me he was about to really piss me off, so I cut him off. I knew how to walk a bitch back to the place they belonged. “What made you qualified? Because you two lived in a trailer in St. Pete, Florida, up until your depressed, drug-addled son lucked up and became the leader of a band that happened to make it. Then, when he offed himself, you took over the company he built, and it hasn’t grown since then.” I gave him a pointed look. I had had them investigated since Google didn't have much on them. They came from nothing, which was fine. My momma came from nothing. But she damn sure didn’t down-talk other people.

Mr. Neil's face reddened, his mouth opening and closing, his anger even turning the tips of his ears red. But I was beyond caring. "Creed, you have no right to speak to us like that!" he finally burst out.

"Actually, I do," I shot back. "This is my house, and I'm not going to be disrespected in it. Not by anyone."

“This is why I found our grandson marrying you to be imprudent. Your parents are trash, and you’re trash.”

My chair scraped the wood floor as I stood. “Filthy rich, born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-my-mouth, multi-million-dollar company-owning trash. And that’s just me. My mother and father are world-renowned. Better than just being the plain old trailer trash you two are. Y’all are acting as if you didn’t call me weeks ago begging. Now you want your grandson to bail you out, so you're trying to get me to give him my company. The audacity. No wonder your son..."

Before I could finish, Noah walked in. "What's going on in here? I heard you all from upstairs," he asked, looking from them to me.

"Your wife is being incredibly rude and disrespectful," Mrs. Greta snapped, her voice quivering as if she was about to cry.

Noah turned to me. "Creed, what did you say?"

I felt a surge of frustration. I almost called this man a bitch. He was immediately taking their side, assuming I was at fault. For what reason? He didn’t know these people, and he knew I wasn’t naturally disrespectful, especially not to old people.

“Not too much on me now. You didn’t even take a second to wonder what they said to me. Maybe if you hadn't been hiding upstairs to avoid telling me you invited them to stay without talking to me, you would have heard what they said."

Noah's expression softened slightly. “I apologize. What happened, Creed?”

“Ask their old asses,” I spat. The damage was done, and I wasn’t going to stand there and let them team up on me and tell me how I was wrong. Without another word, I stormed out of the house, got into my car, and drove. To say I was pissed was an understatement.

“I don’t even like his pale ass like that. Fuck Noah. We can get a divorce, and he can go stay with those two snooty motherfuckers.” I was in my car cursing out all three of them for about twenty minutes. But the anger subsided, and I started to think about how I was already having issues with Maine and my mom. I didn’t need the stress of having problems with my husband. I needed my baby to be healthy. That meant calming my ass down. I still didn’t feel guilty about cussing out the two geriatrics. And they damn sure weren’t staying in my home for months now.

I turned and drove home. His grandparents' rental car was gone, and I hoped they had left for good.

I went and checked their room and found their stuff still there. Disappointed, I reconsidered trying to be mature because why, when I didn’t want to be and they didn’t deserve it.

I found Noah in the kitchen, cleaning up the mess from breakfast.

I took a deep breath and approached him. "Noah, can I talk to you for a second? Don’t say anything. Just let me talk."

He turned and leaned against the sink and nodded.

I cleared my throat before starting.

“I almost fell back on old habits that I don't want to teach my child," I began, my voice calm now. "I want us to communicate better. I'm going to tell you how I feel, and then I want you to tell me how you feel, or vice versa, and we'll find a way to compromise. I can’t be Troy and Scarlett, arguing all the time."

His eyes met mine. "I'm listening," he said, though his tone sounded angry. He had no reason to be mad, though. I swallowed my aggravation.

"I felt attacked. Your grandparents, they don't know me, but they made some very abusive comments to me, and I won’t even dwell on it or repeat them. But when you walked in and immediately thought I was the one in the wrong, it hurt. I know I got a slick mouth, but I don’t just snap on people without provocation. And your response was Maine-like, circa five years ago in the mall.”

"I'm sorry, Creed. I should have asked what happened first, not assumed. If you want to tell me what they said, I’ll correct them.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay. But about them staying for a few months..." I wasn't going to tell him what they said. I might have been about to go a step too far mentioning his father's suicide, so if they didn't tell, I wouldn't rehash it either.

He sighed. “I really would like to get to know them. I want to know their motives for being here. I swear I’ll keep them in line if you let them stay."

I wanted to scream no. “Fucking fine. Better tell them to keep their opinions to themselves if they want this to be a peaceful few months,” I said just as the doorbell rang.

“You expecting someone?” I asked. I rarely had company.

Noah followed me out of the kitchen to answer the door.

When he opened the door, it was his grandparents. Why they were knocking when I gave them a key was beyond me.

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