𝐕𝐄𝐗𝐄𝐃 ❷

𝟏𝟐. ✭ 𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐀 ✭

I'm currently sprawled out on a chaise lounge next to a Bösendorfer piano bored out of my mind. I've been listening to Brooks, my parents, and Torey arguing for the past hour since my brother had insisted on coming home. Apparently he didn't want to be in a place that 'smells like fucking death.' You wouldn't think he was a man that had just been on the brink of it not that long ago. No, Torey's voice was full of serious authority, angry even. Sometimes his tone teetered between vapid hatred and menacing. It's a side of his personality that I've never experienced— a scary side. I am starting to see that these last seven years have changed my brother quite a bit.

His voice used to be used for things other than spewing malice and ill intent. My brother had always been one to tease and flirt. He always had a sarcastic or arrogant retort for just about everything but something I had missed very much about Torey was the fact that he could sing. The sound of his voice was deep and melodic, something he didn't share with anyone outside of the family. It's a talent not many knew he had.

My head lulls to the side, eyeing the Bösendorfer. One would think that a guy like my brother wouldn't possess the delicate talent of playing the piano either. He did look rather odd seated at it because of his size. That didn't change the fact that he took to playing it quickly after our father insisted he have skills other than violence and brute strength. My father played effortlessly and Torey took after him, biology having nothing to do with it.

Apparently growing up in an affluent family meant my father had to be good at just about everything. It was something that I used to resent about him, among the many other things I've resented him for. Always so focused on business. Always on top of the game. Always there for charitable events. Always there for everyone but my brother and I when we were children. That responsibility had been left to my mom and dad.

I grab ahold of my hair and twirl it in my finger eyeing its' natural color. A color that also belongs to my father. For so long I had dyed it to match the rest of my family, not wanting to be his biological daughter. I felt no connection to him in my teen years and I still don't have much of a connection with him still. My mother has often told me I inherited his temperamental personality and I suppose that's true. My bluntness and attitude are a direct result of being raised by both her and my dad though.

There's a movement off to my left that catches my attention. The man in the suit is probably my least favorite personal protection yet but I thoroughly enjoy toying with him. "Hey Tommy, could you do me a favor?"

"It's Thomas."

I snort and quirk a brow. "Mkay Thomas, you're telling me you don't go by Tom? Tommy? Tomcat? Or any other variation of your name?"

"No. It's just Thomas."

"So, what you're saying is, T-boy Fuck-toy is out of the question then?" His lips go into a flatline. He's been putting up with my antics this entire afternoon and appears to have hit his tolerance level. "Jeez Louise, take a damn sedative and relax. I'm just fucking with you."

"Do people even say Jeez Louise anymore?"

"Well I just said it so I guess they fucking do." He just shakes his head slightly and I can tell he wants to roll his eyes. "So, like I was saying. Can you do me a favor?"

"Depends on the favor." He quips.

"I was wondering if you could give my tootsies a little rubbsies." I make a show of lifting my leg and wiggling my toes at him. He looks mortified and visibly cringes. "What? Are you not a foot guy? You definitely look like a foot guy. I can totally see you jerking it into a pair of high heels or something." Ah, I love that look. The look of pure mortification and surprise. "Cat got your tongue, Tomcat? Not much of a conversationalist?"