Razor: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance(68)

Chapter 3


Tyler




"Your life is over," I said, smacking down a glass on the bar counter.

Brad, my childhood best friend, peered over at me, his eyes bloodshot. He was dressed casually in blue jeans and a black t-shirt, while I was still dressed in my work clothes, black silk slacks and a white dress shirt. I usually dressed well when I went to clubs, flaunting the fact that I had money. "Why do you say that?

We were sitting in a popular bar, you know, one of the trash dens that the company doesn't want to see me in. After my explosive blowout with Dad, Brad called me, saying that he was having relationship problems in the form of his fiancée practically forcing him to give her an official wedding date. To make matters worse, the wedding she wanted was going to cost a fortune and would temporarily bankrupt him.

I'd told Brad that I would meet him and we could both talk about our problems.

"If she’s already calling the shots now," I told him, "then what do you think it's going to be like when you're married?"

Brad let out a groan and stared down into his glass with a forlorn expression. "Don't remind me, man. I'm already f*cking stressed the hell out. I've only been working at the law firm for less than a year. How the f*ck does she expect me to afford the kind of wedding that she wants?"

"What does she want?"

Brad made a sour face. "Everything. I mean, like, her family is huge. She has like ten sisters who must have a hundred little girls, and she wants every last one to be flower girls. She wants to rent out the Promade and have the wedding out on the lawn, complete with an orchestra, band and entertainment. Not to mention, she wants me to provide the clothing for all her immediate family."

I let out a low whistle.

"Tell me about it," Brad continued. "I don't know how Katie thinks we can afford it. I know I have a pretty good job, but damn, at least give on something. If it wasn’t for all our student loan debt, we could probably swing it.”

I signaled the bartender for another drink—a slender girl dressed in a cut-off top that bared her midriff. She smiled at me and scurried off to the mixer. She wanted my dick, I was sure of it, but I wasn't interested. I usually didn't go for girls who had tattoos, even though I had a couple myself. It was just one of my hypocrisies.

"Where does Katie work again?"

“She’s a groomer. She loves animals." Brad laughed. "Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she'd want me to dress the damn dogs in tuxes too."

"I feel your pain, brother," I said. I really didn't. Brad, I think, had fallen into a trap. After my one true relationship had failed, I'd lost belief in true love. Brad would wind up regretting getting married and getting stuck with kids, mark my words.

Of course, I didn’t want to tell him what I really felt, because I thought it would only piss him off. He had too much invested in this Katie chick at this point, and I've learned it's better to let people make their own mistakes rather than try to dissuade them.

The bartender chick walked over and placed my drink down before me. I reached into my pocket to pay for it when she stopped me.

"It's on the house, handsome," she purred at me with a wink and strutted away to serve some other drunk patron.

Brad shook his head and eyed me with disbelief. "Un-f*cking believable. She all but bent over and asked you to f*ck her."

"I'm glad she didn't," I said, grabbing the drink and turning it up. "She's not my type."

Brad stared at me. "You're an *, you know that?"

I didn't respond. Instead, I roved my eyes over the crowded bar. I saw plenty of girls, all dressed up with tons of makeup, and a few in f*ck-me pumps, but none that interested me.

"So what's up with you?" Brad asked, making me turn my attention back to him. "I've never seen you turn up so many so quickly before. What's got you so bent outta’ shape?"

"My dad’s thinking about replacing me at the company."

Brad's jaw dropped. "You're shitting me."

I shook my head and proceeded to tell Brad everything. "They said I need to stop frequenting clubs, present one included, and picking up random chicks," I said as I got to the end of my tale. "And I should focus on cleaning up my image."

"I don't know, man. Maybe they're right," Brad said after a moment of thought. I should have known better than to try to get sympathy from him. "A man in your position should be held to a higher standard. Fucking a new slut every weekend doesn’t exactly scream professionalism."

"That's the thing," I said. "What I do on my own time is none of anyone else's business."

"True," Brad agreed. "But it is when it affects the business's image. I don't know how you can't see that. I mean, get a grip already, Tyler. You're not f*cking nineteen anymore. You should be thinking about settling down and starting a family in a couple of years."

I swallowed back my anger. Brad should’ve had my back, but deep down, I knew he was right. "That will never happen. The family part, that is. And there's no way I'm going to stop f*cking who I want, when I want."

Brad shook his head at me.

"In fact, just out of spite, I'm going to continue to do what I’ve been doing. Let them come for me. Fuck 'em."