Page 20 of Royal Havoc

Realizing I was too distracted by my steamy afternoon confessional to notice when I got home earlier if the shower was stocked.

But how?

Who could’ve known what to buy —without asking?I’m gonna need to ask Donor Pops, who has access to the cottage besides me. Which kind of makes me want to vomit. If I’m being honest, I’d almost rather wonder in silence than ask him anything.

Scanning the walk-in closet for my shoes, my freshly rested mind slips back to this morning’s drama. What the actual fuck is wrong with people? Who thinks it’s okay tospiton someone in public? I’m not saying the idea repulses me. I’m saying I’mrepulsedby his audacity to think he can embarrass me in public.

Queens don’t get embarrassed. They get even.

For a good portion of my adolescence, I was thrown into the spotlight. Some days, it seemed like Mom was holding a flashlight over my head. I didn’t dress right. I didn’t act girly enough. Smile more. Don’t slouch. Cross your legs. Stop swearing. Wear more makeup. I did morewrong thanI did right, according to her.

At home, I pretty much learned early in life to stay out of her way. But, let her throw a party. Or, have guests over, and suddenly I became the entertainment. It didn’t matter where we were or who was around, she always found a way to call me out on something. That’s why I want my space. I enjoy silence. I don’t want flashy, bright things. Hell, I found the sweats I’m wearing at a thrift store. I like that someone else broke them in for me. I bought the hoodie I’m wearing at a gas station because I was cold one night when I stopped to fill my tank.

Yep, I’m that kind of crazy rich girl.

As for the saliva, screw flowers, and rainbows. Soul mates, and true love are for warm, cozy times when you feel like reading abook to escape. Mom desperately loved the jackass in the main house —who’s gonna bitch because I’m late for dinner— for years, and we’ve already discussed how that turned out for her.

Knowing he’s waiting for me, I drop my purse on the table by the door and head straight to the dining room. I take one step through the doorway, and his eyes land on me, narrowing on my attire.

Why can’t a girl wear thrift store sweats to dinner?

“You’re late,” he announces from the head of the table, nodding sharply at the chair to his left and steepling his fingers in front of his mouth while watching me plop into the seat.

“Forgot to set an alarm.” Shrugging a shoulder dismissively as I glance around the fine dining area.

Does one guy really need a table that seats twelve? Pretentious prick!

Lisa strolls through the doorway tucked away in the corner, carrying two plates. Once she’s sat them in front of us. “Will there be anything else?” she asks him, glaring at me the whole time behind his back.

“No, thank you. Have a good night,” he tells her politely, looking over his plate.

She disappears without a word, and suddenly, we’re alone in a room busting with awkward silence.

Raising his silverware. “Lisa said you came home early from school today,” he states, cutting his steak.

Sighing so loud my lungs deflate. “Lisa’s kind of a bitch,” I grumble.

His head swings to me. “Watch your mouth. You need to learn some respect,” he corrects sharply, eyes narrowed on my face.

Letting the fork clatter on my plate. “Let’s talk aboutrespect, Hendrix. She followed me around this morning like I was a thief in the night,” I hiss, not bothering to hide my anger.

Staring down at his plate. “Are you?” he asks distractedly, cutting another bite.

“Maybe if you stuck around, you’d know,” I counter, stabbing angrily at my salad.

Pointing his fork at me. “You shouldn’t talk about things when you have no clue —”

“No clue,” I scoff, hand pausing mid-way to my mouth. “You ghosted on my fifth birthday. I don’t need a clue, I lived it,” I argue, raising my voice.

Calmly, placing his silverware on his plate, leaning back in his chair. “Youwillrespect me —”

Letting my fork fall from my hand, clattering on my plate loud enough, I wonder if it’s cracked. “Respect’searned, Hendrix. Not forced,” I challenge, meeting his cold stare. “Where wasyourrespect when you decided to bail on your child?”

Slamming his hand hard on the table. “Don’t blame me for something I —”

Someone clearing their throat has his words instantly dying off. Both of us turn in unison to search for the intruder. My jaw drops at the sight of Zoey standing inside the doorway.

“Sorry to interrupt your dinner, Mr. Whithe. Lisa let me in on her way out,” she explains politely before turning to me. “They changed the time of the study session. The group’s waiting on us.”

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