"Yes mama bear."
Lucy was a sweetheart. A flamboyantly feminine girl with a solid head on her shoulders. Even if that head was topped with a mountain of poofy blond hair. We were so different on the outside but inside, we were far more alike. We both had the same values. Girls, before guys. Work hard. Be nice. No pretensions.
I was beyond lucky that we'd been assigned to the same dorm room.
The dorm room we were now frantically trying to clean up. It wouldn't mean as much to Lucy, her being from a well to do family and all, but I did not want the three hundred dollar charge for leaving a dirty room to show up on my mother's desk. Things were tight as it was, even with the partial scholarship she got me as part of her job.
"Nev, what time does your bus leave again?"
"Two o'clo-oh FUCK!"
I glanced at the clock on the wall. It had been in the room when we moved in so we'd left it for the next girls who would live there. But right now it said something ominous.
It said 1:45.
"Oh my God! I have to go-I'll never make it!"
"Yes you will-go go go! I'll finish cleaning up, don't worry."
Lucy tossed me my bag and I hugged her tightly.
"Love you!!!"
"Love you too-text me Nev!"
I slung my backpack over my shoulder.
Then I was out the door.
Chapter Two
Clay
I adjusted myself in my seat and leaned back. The stewardess brought me my drink, a bloody mary. I slipped her a twenty and dismissed her from my mind. She stood there for a moment, confused. Then she tottered off on her impossibly high heels, her firm ass wiggling suggestively.
I knew it was for my benefit.
I wasn't impressed. I did take a moment to wonder how she walked in those things.
What the hell did she do if it got turbulent?
I was sure she was used to guys throwing themselves at her. She was cute and the warm invitation in her eyes had been unmistakable from the moment I boarded. Being in first class did have its perks. Like having the occasional flight attendant take you into the private bathroom to lick your johnson. But I was tired. I wasn't in the mood. Besides, who knew if she was even good at it?
Been there, done that.
Trust me, the mile high club is not all it's cut out to be. Not that I ever let a tight squeeze get in the way of getting my rocks off. But I was distracted.
Nev wasn't texting me back.
Everyone else from Pembrook was though. My phone was on vibrate but it was still blowing up. It had been all day.
When you coming home bro?
Party at Stew's this weekend Hey Clay I'm home if you want to chill The last one made me grin. It was from Jen. She'd been my most regular fuck buddy since Junior year of high school. That was four years ago. Considering my spotty track record with women, that made us practically engaged.
Not.
It did mean that when she said 'chill' it meant getting my dick waxed.
I picked up my phone. Hell, why not? Jen was a cool girl. She knew I wasn't looking for a relationship. She just liked my cock. And she was good at handling it.
Soon
I flipped through my texts again to the one with Nev's name. The little hooker hadn't bothered to write back, but it said clear as day that it had been read. I grinned.
I'd make her pay for that.
That could be fun.
Nevada
The bus jolted to a stop, making my stomach lurch. I'd barely eaten since yesterday and now I was getting car sick. The driver was a complete lunatic.
I hated buses. I always had. Which was ironic since it was more or less the only way I travelled.
I had been on a plane exactly once, when I was eight years old. And that was to go to a funeral. My grandfather's funeral on my mother's side.
Not that we even knew the relatives on my father's side. Or if he had any.
Usually, we took the train home to the tiny midwestern town my mother had grown up in. I liked the train, with its gentle rocking motion and endless things to look at out the window. But after my dad left, it was bus city. We just couldn't afford anything as nice as a train ride, let alone flying the friendly skies.
That's until Mom got the job working for Mr. Westfield. She'd come on as head housekeeper but quickly became indispensable to the wealthy, powerful man. He owned many businesses but was primarily known for his wineries in Sonoma County. That's where we lived now. On his mammoth estate in wine country.
It was beautiful of course. But boring. Especially if you didn't have money coming out of your eardrums. I existed in a non-existent category somewhere between 'the help' and 'old money.'
Still I tried not to complain.
How many poor girls got to live on an estate? Mr. Westfield had even paid for me to attend the Pembrook Academy, where his own son attended school. I grimaced, thinking of his impossibly perfect son. So handsome he should be on a magazine cover. So rich, he never had to think about money, other than how to spend it. So connected, he'd been turning down invitations before he was born.