Page 81 of Austin

She might say she hates it when I call her that, but I think, deep down, she loves it.

“Bye, Austin,” is all she replies before hanging up the phone.

* * *

When I turned the loading dock into my private garage, I had to keep access to the main building’s garage as part of the fire code. I like having my cars housed in the Sexton building because I can hop into the old freight elevator and be in my auto showroom in minutes.

Just as I’m about to walk into the elevator car, my phone goes off. I hope it’s Jalynn, but my smile fades when I see it’s Bryce.

“I was wondering when you were going to check up on me,” I say playfully as I hit the button for level G.

Bryce’s deep voice shouts through the phone, “She said to give you space, and I did for two fucking days. As soon as I turn on my phone, it’s to find out that you can’t follow one simple direction!”

“Wait. Who is she, and what the hell are you mad about?”

“Don’t give me that shit.” His voice is curt. His rapid, angry breaths can be felt through the receiver. “I can’t believe you brought my assistant to dinner the other night!”

“I don’t owe you any explanation for who I want to have dinner with.” I keep an even tone despite my desire to hurl a fist through the steel wall.

I don’t hear from the guy in forty-eight hours, and this is the call I get? The walls of the elevator feel awfully claustrophobic. I unbutton the top button on my shirt and take a stifled breath. It doesn’t help.

“You damn well know I have every right to know if you’re dating my assistant, and you can bet your ass you owe me an explanation about why you walked out on Dad and Missy before food was even served! We’re supposed to be keeping the peace, trying to keep Missy happy, not making things worse. You know she has proof you race and is trying to get you arrested.”

The door to the garage level opens, and I step out onto the polished concrete floor, hoping for relief, but the air in here feels just as heavy as it did in the elevator. “Missy can kiss my ass.”

“Missy can—” he stutters in aggravation. “Why are you so thickheaded?”

“I’d have to be convicted of a crime, and I’ve done nothing that would warrant anything more than a speeding ticket.”

“This is so typical, Austin,” he shouts, sounding like he’s pacing. “Ever since we were kids, you’ve been acting like the world isn’t watching when you go off the rails. You just do what you want to do at everyone else’s expense.”

“Watch it. You’re starting to sound like Dad.”

“Maybe he and I actually agree on something for a change,” he says. His words have me clenching my jaw. “You were supposed to be at that dinner if not to make Missy happy, then to get Dad to come to his senses. I’ve tried. I’ve been trying, and I thought maybe, for once in your fucking life, you would actually do what you were told and come through.”

Heat flushes through my body. “Why the hell would Dad listen to me?”

“Because you were his favorite!”

Despite my anger, I spit-laugh at that one. “In what lifetime was that?”

“The one before you became an asshole teenager. He did everything with you. He’d take you to the racetrack and bring you to meet the winners. Every summer, you’d entered the soapbox derby, and he’d help you build the car. Hell, you even like the same shitty old movies he does. Dad might have been brainwashed by Missy, but there’s still the same Edward in there somewhere. I’ve been trying to get to him, but I’m out of my fucking mind with babysitting you while you’re willing to risk Mom’s memory, everything she built, on being an arrogant asshole!”

“I’m so sick of this shit.” I kick the wall, feeling the impact in my toes. “Why are you always busting my ass? I’m here, covering for you, if you’ve forgotten. Please tell me you’ll at least get your dick sucked while you’re gone. Maybe then you’ll have your brain back and truly see what’s going on around here.”

“Have you even heard a fucking thing I just said, Austin?”

“Yeah, the part where you think I don’t try every day to keep Mom’s memory alive. Maybe if you went to visit her grave every once in a while instead of kissing Dad’s ass, you’d remember why this company was worth fighting for.”

The line goes silent. When I glance down to my phone I see he hung up, and I have to restrain myself from punching the wall next to me. Thank God I know it is concrete, or my hand would be in serious pain right now. I have to close my eyes, count to ten, and focus on not losing my shit altogether.

What the hell just happened?

I rest my head against the cold wall and let it cool down my ever-increasing anger. It’s not working. No matter how hard I work or how hard I try, my brother will never see it. He always finds the one negative and harps on it.

And what was that shit about being Edward’s favorite? What the hell kind of brainwashing is he trying to do to me? Our father might have acted one way toward me twenty years ago, but those memories are lost in the depths of hell.

My pulse is still racing as I walk into the showroom and hear a banging on the closed garage door. It’s a constant pounding that makes my adrenaline surge with each rap.