Page 1 of Faux Real
one
Get Me Out of Here
OLIVER
“Oliver!Getyourassdown here right now! You’re going to be late!”
For Christ’s sake! That woman’s voice could shatter all the glass in this overly pompous and far too futuristic-looking house. I aggressively stuff my notebook into my backpack, not caring that the pages are being bent and ripped, and head downstairs.
“For such a small woman, you sure are shrill,” I say, meeting my auntie’s narrowed and pissed off eyes. “Are you attempting to communicate with yourdogs?” I look down at her stupid Shih Tzu that’s wearing a damn bow. “Your mummy’s loud, isn’t she?” The dog barks and I look back up at Bessie. “It seems as though Pebbles agrees.”
Aunt Bessie crosses her arms and taps her foot against the marble-tiled floor of the foyer. “You mustn’t speak to me like that, Oliver. I am not in the mood to deal with your shitty little attitude right now.”
“Well, good thing I’m moving out of here then today, yeah?” I walk over to the console table near the front door and grab my motorcycle helmet. “You andChristiancan have the houseallto yourselves now that school’s starting up.”
My Aunt’s boyfriend is such a twat. When he’s not cooped up in the tanning bed, he’s constantly droning on about his organic protein powder business and how he’s going to revolutionize the healthcare industry. Seeing as his body weight is that of a fourteen-year-old boy, I’m going to go out on a limb and say that his future is as bright as a starless sky.
“God, I don’t know why I agreed to be your guardian!” Aunt Bessie huffs, flapping her hands to her sides. “This is precisely why I never wanted to have children.”
I swing my backpack over my shoulder, rolling my eyes. “I think my father’s money has something to do with it, no? Tell me again, how much is he paying you to be my babysitter?”
My Aunt Bessie is probably the poorest woman in Mycroft County despite living in the largest house. My uncle, may he rest in peace, was seventy-two fucking years old when Bess married him; she thought she hit the geriatric jackpot, but what she didn’t account for was his stupidly long and complex prenup.
Either Bess didn’t read the damn thing or she’s just as idiotic as she looks because when he died, Uncle Carlos’s lawyer informed Bess that all his money would go to his kids, and the only thing she would get to keep is the house—a house which she can’t sell— otherwise, the profit goes to said children. It’s almost laughable. But now that my father has offered Bess a substantial monthly allowance for watching me while I’m in America, she’s been nothing but a bloody nuisance. But honestly, I’d rather live with Bess than my grandparents. Those people are fucking psychotic.
“They are not paying menearlyenough,” Bessie scoffs, a smug smile on her Botoxed face.
“Well, I guess your arse implants will have to wait until next year then,” I retort with a smirk, twirling my helmet around my index finger. “How sad.”
“Oliver!” she exclaims, her whole body tensing. “Why is everything that comes out of your mouth an insult? Can’t you act like a normal human being just this once?”
“Hmm...” I purse my lips, my gaze flickering around the lavish front entrance. “No, I don’t think I can.Sorry.”
“Charming as always,” Aunt Bessie mutters, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. “Your father wanted me to remind you of your agreement. You managed to stay out of trouble all summer, God only knowshow. But remember,ifyou get kicked out of Hilton Prep, he is going to withhold your inheritance until you turnthirty, is that clear?”
“Crystal,” I mutter. I can’t wait to get out of this God-forsaken hellhole. It’s a shame that Hilton Prep is only a twenty-minute drive from here. I just know AuntieElizabethwill be popping by whenever she damn well pleases to check in on me like I’m a fucking inmate.
“Well, Bess, I’d say it’s been a pleasure living with you for the past eight weeks, but I was raised not to tell lies.” I flash her my pearly whites. “I’ll see you at Christmas break?”
Bessie clenches her jaw. “That is if you canmake ituntil Christmas without being expelled.”
“Fear not, Bess. I’ll be on my best behavior. Straight arrow, you know me.”
“Idoknow you, Oliver, that’s the problem.” Bessie pinches the bridge of her new nose. “Hilton is not like your other schools, okay? They will not tolerateanymisconduct. You only get one warning and then you’re out.”
“In that case, I’ll be sure not to get caught!” I wink at my Auntie and run out the front door before she can smack me upside the head. For such a tiny woman, her palm feels like it’s made out of Kevlar.
“All your belongings should have been delivered to your room earlier today,” she calls out from the front door as I tug on my helmet and straddle my Triumph. It took a lot of pathetic begging, but my father agreed to ship my baby to the US. “If you need anything else just use the credit card, I gave you!”
Oh, don’t worry Bess, I plan to put that black card to great use. I toss Auntie Bessie an animated thumbs up and kick start the bike. “Open the gates, will ya?” I yell out, hoping she hears me over the rumbling of the engine. The brass gates begin to slowly open outward, and I can’t accelerate out of there fast enough. Farewell summer prison, you shan’t be missed.
It took several weeks before I got used to driving on the right side of the road. Everything in this stupid country is completely bonkers. How the fuck can people vote and be enlisted in the military at eighteen but can’t buy a pint of beer? And why does everything need to be supersized?
I’d never even heard of Connecticut before Father exiled me from London. This state, or at least the area Bess lives in, makes me want to gouge my eyes out. Little cookie-cutter houses on every fucking block, porch swings, and enough golden retrievers to make a newAir Budmovie.
I’m over three-quarters of the way to Hilton, cruising down side streets, when a black Hummer cuts me off, causing me to swerve and lose control of the Triumph. Before I know it, I’m skidding along the side of the road, my motorcycle bashing against the sidewalk and my body hitting the ground with athump.
Fucking hell! Are you shitting me right now? I lay on my back and flip up the visor attached to my helmet. Who the fuck speeds down a residential street? I attempt to sit up but there’s a dull ache pulsing in my lower back. I side-eye my bike that’s two feet away from my mangled body. The front wheel is slightly crooked and there are scratches on the black paint.
