Hooker(113)

PROLOGUE


The Past …

JAX

‘Where do you think you’re going?’ my father snaps as I walk down the main staircase, heading for the front door.

‘Out.’ I’m nineteen and a legal adult. I don’t have to tell him jackshit.

‘Not dressed like that you aren’t.’

Here we go a-fuckin-gain. Is this man ever going to let up? I’ve lived my entire life doing what he’s asked. I’m tired. I can’t be the person he wants me to be anymore, I just can’t. I’m not cut out to be a politician. That shit may be running through his veins, but it sure as hell ain’t running though mine.

I scoop up my skateboard from beside the front door, tucking it under my arm. Out of the corner of my eye I see him storming towards me. I know exactly what he’s going to do, he’s done it a million times in the past. And that shit is getting old.

‘Get that fucking thing off your head!’ he screams, reaching for my baseball cap.

I manoeuvre my head to the right and then back to the left, avoiding his attempts to snatch it.

There’s a murderous glare in his eyes as he tries one last time. ‘You’re an Albright, not some common thug. I won’t have my son walking the streets dressed like that.’

‘It’s just a hat. Get the fuck over it.’ I’ve never spoken to him like that before, I’ve always managed to bite my tongue. When I reach for the door handle, he roughly latches onto my arm, tugging me backwards.

I think the fact my father’s long awaited plan is finally coming to a head is the reason for my bad attitude. In two days, I’ll be heading to university. Of course he’s making me study politics, which is the last thing I want to do. I feel trapped in a world I hate, far removed from the person I want to be. The only plus is I’ll be getting out of this godforsaken town and away from him—away from my whole family. My mother and brother aren’t much better. Sometimes I swear I’m adopted. How can we have the same blood in our veins, yet be nothing alike?

‘You’re an adult now, when are you going to start acting like one?’ he sneers, tightening his grip on my arm.

‘One day … maybe,’ I retort, pulling my arm away.

‘I’m not finished with you, boy.’

Ignoring him, I make a hasty retreat out the door and down the front steps. I drop my skateboard onto the concrete before placing my foot on it. He may not be finished with me, but I’m sure as hell finished with him.

‘I don’t know why I wasted my money on that damn car,’ he yells at my back as I skate away.

I don’t drive it because it’s the same type of car he and my brother have. The type made specifically for preppy, pole-stuck-up-their-arse show ponies. It just screams, Look at me I’m a pretentious dickhead. That’s not who I am. Give me my skateboard any day.

When I graduated high school last year, my father asked me what type of car I’d like. I told him I wanted a classic, something cool like a 1967 Mustang. Instead I got a brand new Alfa-fucking-Romeo. I don’t mean to sound like an ungrateful prick, but honestly, I would’ve preferred a beaten-up Toyota or something. Why can’t he see I’m nothing like him, and no matter how hard he tries, I’ll never be?

I hate my life.

Without even thinking I head to the one place I don’t have to try to be someone I’m not. Candice’s house. She’s not only my candylicious, blonde, blue-eyed bombshell, she’s my best friend. The only person on this earth who gets me. We’re kindred spirits. Like me, she’s a social outcast. Neither of us belong in the fake high-class society we were unfortunate enough to be born into.

I’ve had a secret crush on her since the first day we met. Keeping my hands to myself has been a constant struggle, but I’m not the commitment type. And we’d never last. I’d rather have a life-long friend then a fleeting good time. I’d never want to lose what we have. She’s the only one who keeps me sane in the fucked up world I exist in.

I honestly don’t know how I’m going to survive the next few years at uni without her.

‘Jesus Christ, Sophia, give it a rest. It’s only hair. It’s not the end of the world!’ I hear Candice screech, moments before she opens the front door. Sounds like she’s having a similar day to me.

Who invented parents anyway?

‘Whoa!’ I blurt out in shock the second she appears in the doorway.

‘Great. Not you too,’ she snaps as her shoulders slump.

‘Hey. I like it,’ I say as my eyes move down the length of her very pink hair.

‘You do.’

‘It’s very candylicious. Very … you.’ I smile when I see her face light up. I love seeing that look. It never gets old.