The Bad Boy And The Mermaid

01- The Bad Boy Finds The Mermaid

Hunter

The third week of college and my fists were already bruised. My baggage was tossed out of the dorms before I could say a word, and now I was pretty much left out to fend for myself because my father wouldn't help me.

How easier life would have been if he had agreed to pay rent for a small studio apartment and paid for the gas for my car as well? But instead, daddy dearest had blocked my credit cards, confiscated my car keys, (I drove a Red Maserati sports car so that hurt like a bitch) and if that wasn't enough, kicked me out of the mansion and now I was officially kicked out of the dorms too.

That left me with renting a little apartment the size of a matchbox in a danky little neighborhood where you could hear the constant barks of the stray dogs and the police sirens because this place looked like a hell-hole.

Maybe I was complaining too damn much but what else did you expect to do when you'd fallen from grace.

There was only one true friend I had, Fredericko, he was my man (not in the literal sense) but he was my bro, my Spanish-Italian brother from another mother. When my dad wouldn't lend me money, Fred let me borrow some, when dad threw me out of the house, Fred welcomed me into his house, when my one-night stands tried to wreck my car, Fred took care of it. Fred was the definition of how a best friend should be. And when my exes so much as tried to bitch about him, I'd dumped them right then.

Because it has always been bros before hoes for me.

Don't get me wrong. I had nothing against the female species, more so when they were under me. Again, I have nothing against women but I liked to believe I hadn't met any particularly good ones either. The ones that I'd known lusted over gifts, sex, and fancy dates. They never cared about me or never wanted to get to know me better.

Anyway, so since I was thrown out of the dorms, I had no other place to go so I had crashed at Fred's house for a few days until he suggested the matchbox apartment and when I went to see it, I'd almost had a panic attack. The rent was very good, and I had one debit card that my dad had no idea about which I was going to put to some use considering the fact that I needed some money to give advance payment to the landlord.

My father, Wyatt Brantley had enough money to buy a fucking island and this town if he wanted but he thought my step-mother had spoilt me rotten and that if my actual mother was still around, I would have been in line. I still had some lessons to learn according to him, like doing an actual job, paying the rent for the apartment blah blah.

I hated my life at this point. I'd lost a good amount of those looser show off friends now that I wasn't a rich boy anymore. Not that I gave two fucks.

Staying out of trouble had become my life's mission but I screwed that up too.

There was a guy who was badmouthing me, saying that it was another of my stunts to gain sympathy from the professors in our college for extra brownie points. I didn't care what people talked about me, but then he'd talked shit about my little half-sister and I'd lost it and pounded his stupid nerdy head against the wall.

There were screams, someone calling me a monster and lose threats from the Dean to call the police on me.

I'd gone to the nurse's office and gotten the bandage wrapped around my busted knuckles. The nurse knew me well enough to laugh and joke about it, after all, I was a regular here.

That night I looked at my small apartment (that was previously covered in cobwebs that looked like a movie set they could use in conjuring) and appreciated the work Fred and I had done with the paint job and moved some furniture in from my old bedroom. It still depressed me.