Page 21 of Burn Bright
Blood tries to drain out of my face. For once, I don’t like that we’re richrich.
“With financing, a hundred mil, easily,” Charlie says.
“Twenty million apiece,” Eliot nods. “Cough it up, boys.”
“Fuck no,” Tom gapes.
“Brother.”
“Do you know what else I could buy with that? For what—a bathroom?”
I keep my mouth shut.
Beckett tells Charlie, “We could just buy a bigger condo in the same complex.”
“Bigger with a worse view.”
I rub at my face. Uprooting them is the last thing I wanted to happen.
Eliot motions to the floor. “Let’s have Luna and Xander go in on it. They’re living in the apartment complex too.” Our obscenelywealthy cousins are three levels below us on the 18thfloor. Our moms are the Calloway sisters, and our Grandfather Calloway (may he rest in peace) was the one who created Fizzle, one of the most popular sodas in the world. It’s where the majority of our fortune comes from. Though, our families all have a shit ton of companies beyond the soda dynasty.
I rub my face harder at the mention of the Hales.
Luna Hale.
Xander Hale.
The two of them moved in during the summer. They’re also going to MVU this semester, and Xander will be a freshman. Luna isbest friendswith Tom and Eliot, so I always figured I’d see her here, but I’ve been hoping Xander and I don’t cross paths anywhere.
An arctic freeze exists every time we share the same air as we’ve gotten older. It’s like being naked in the Tundra and I can’t melt the snow.
“I’ll call Luna,” Tom says, about to pose the idea.
I’m on my feet. “No one needs to fork over twenty million.”
“Could be fourteenmillion,” Eliot points to Tom’s phone. “We just need two more takers.”
“I’ll use your bathroom,” I announce. “Like right now.” I show them that I am happy with this outcome. I even smile on my route there. “Thanks for sharing!”
“Always!” Eliot calls out. As he lowers his voice to our brothers, I just barely hear him say, “I think he’s going to be fine.”
My chest tightens, and I shut the door.
The spacious bathroom has amassiveglass shower. Black tile, black grout, and a humongous rainfall showerhead with LED lighting. Eliot already told me to download the app so I can shower in any hue of choice. I imagine he chooses the hues of hell. Bathing in red.
None of their hair products or razors are out on the counter. The stone sink is squeaky clean, and I smell sandalwood from incense. My brothers keep a tidy bathroom. Definitely not tidier than Beckett, but this is a habit from having very put-together parents who didn’t always let housekeepers clean our shit for us.
They were probably afraid of raising spoiled, nepo brats, and in a life surrounded by private jets, yachts, magazine covers, unimaginable wealth—they had to humble us somewhere.
Eliot and Tom were also consistently grounded in their youth, and our mom preferred to dole out chores as punishment. They’d joke about being well-acquainted with the Scrub Daddy.
I take a seat on the toilet lid.
My leg jostles while I scroll through the forty new text messages I received in the last half hour from various people. My eyes slow on several.
Mom
Did your move go well, gremlin? If ANY of your brothers gave you grief, I will personally smite them with receding hairlines.
