Daring the Bad Boy (Endless Summer)(2)

…

JAKE

One month earlier

“You’re going. I know this is a last-minute decision and you’re probably pissed that you have to leave tomorrow, but too damn bad, Jacob. You’re out of here.” Dad’s voice was firm, simmering with anger. His eyes blazed with barely withheld fury as he glared at me. He was super pissed, but what else was new? “And that’s final. No arguments, no defiance, no threats that you’ll run away. The second you leave this house without my permission, I’m calling the cops. And they will lock you up. Thanks to your latest mishap, that’s guaranteed.”

I stared at him, my arms crossed in front of my chest, my jaw clenched so tight I felt like I could crush my teeth into powder. My uncle’s summer camp held good memories. Back when I was a kid and had no cares in the world, and my main priorities had been swimming in the lake and hanging out with friends.

But those days were a long time ago.

Now I didn’t want to go back. There was no point. I was a different person. Not just older, but freaking wiser.

Well. Maybe not wiser. I kept f*cking up, like I couldn’t help myself. That latest mishap Dad was talking about? Stealing hubcaps off fancy cars in the middle of the night with my so-called friends. We’d been drinking. I’d been dared. The moment the cops showed up, they all bailed on me. Every last one of them, and I was royally busted. They booked me like a real criminal, taking my photo, getting my fingerprints. I’d nearly pissed my pants I was so scared.

Never let them see it, though. Just kept my mouth shut and glared at everyone. When Dad showed up to bail me out, I almost went weak with relief. I believed I was home free—until he got me into the car and proceeded to yell the entire drive home.

That was the first clue that I’d have to finally pay for my sins.

Dad went with me to my court appearance and asked to speak to the judge. I thought he would plead my case. Tell the scowling middle-aged woman with glasses perched on the tip of her nose that I really was a good kid. I just needed another chance.

Nope. Dad chucked me so far under the bus, I still have tire marks across my stomach. He told the judge I was a screwup, a failure, a disappointment, and that he was afraid for my future. He then promised her if she gave me community service, he’d make sure I did my time by working at my uncle’s summer camp under strict supervision.

She’d agreed.

And now here I am, going to camp and having to work with a bunch of * kids who’ll give me nothing but crap over the next two months. The only thing that was giving me hope? The possibility there would be plenty of pretty counselors with a bad-boy fetish. I’ll be willing to fulfill whatever fantasy they have, as long as we can do it on the down low. My uncle gets one whiff of me doing something wrong, and I’m a dead man. I’ll end up in juvenile hall or, worse, in freaking jail. My dad’ll make sure I pay for my mistakes.

“Fine,” I muttered, dropping my head so I didn’t have to look him in the eye. Seeing the disappointment there, all the anger and frustration, I couldn’t take it anymore. “I’ll go.”

His deep sigh of relief was loud, and hearing it didn’t make me feel any better. We sat in the living room, Dad in his recliner, me on the couch. I let my arms drop to my sides and took a deep breath, glancing around the room. It was small, narrow, no pictures on the wall, no homey touches. A total bachelor pad, Dad had told me when we moved in to the place, like that was going to appeal to fourteen-year-old me.

After Mom died, Dad sold our house—too full of memories, he’d said, his expression pained—and we rented this shitty little two-story condo. A temporary move, he’d reassured me. The place was old but centrally located in single-dom paradise. As in, there were plenty of divorced women who lived in this complex who were hot for my dad.

And it sucked. Mom’s dying had completely messed with my head. But Dad’s moving us away from the only home I’d ever known had pushed me over the edge. The more trouble I got into, the more attention I received. It didn’t matter if it was bad or good; at least someone was looking at me. Acknowledging me. Telling me I mattered.

Sort of.

“Spending the summer with your uncle Bob is just what you need,” Dad said, his expression softening, the anger slowly dissipating because I didn’t protest or get angry. Why fight it? At least at camp, I’d have some freedom.

I’d be working my ass off and under Uncle Bob’s thumb all the time, but what else could I do?

“Though just because you’re surrounded by a bunch of young girls doesn’t mean you should touch any of them.” The pointed look Dad sent my way almost made me want to laugh.

Almost.

“They’re off-limits. Forbidden. The campers, at least. You have to follow your uncle’s rules. The counselors, they’re your peers, but I wouldn’t recommend you messing around with any of them, either. You don’t need the distraction.” He paused. “You mess up once, and you’ll end up in juvie. Understand?”

I nodded. Whatever. I’d mess around with whoever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I’d freaking need the distraction so I wouldn’t lose my mind having to work for Uncle Bob all summer long.

“You’ll get out of here.” Away from my friends. “You’ll meet new people.” Who aren’t my friends. “You’ll earn a little money and save it up.” So I can buy my own cigarettes or weed or whatever I want and not have to ask for cash from you. “And you might learn a thing or two.”