Bully King - J.A. Huss Page 0,1

I worked for it.” This is not entirely true. Ax worked for it. And he sold drugs, so that’s probably not really considered work. But eh. Fuck it. It sounds good when you say it out loud. “You’re not footing the bill for my summer holiday. So I don’t get what the problem is.”

He points at me. “That is the problem. You think you own this world.”

“I wonder where I got that idea?”

“You”—he’s still pointing—“do not. Own this world. I do.”

I slouch even more in my chair and let out a long breath of air. “I’m not staying here.”

“You are. And so are your friends. The Judge and the Mayor have both been contacted. You and your buddies have been grounded.”

“Grounded? That’s funny. I’m twenty-one years old, Dad. You can’t ground me.”

“The plane, Cooper. The plane has been grounded. Not you. You”—I have a feeling, if I were close enough, he’d be poking me in the chest right about now—“you will be spending the next eight weeks running the Fang and Feather Summer Rush.”

“No. Fucking. Way. I’m not running that shit show. And you can’t just ground some commercial airline.”

“Can’t I?”

Can he? He has to be bluffing.

My phone dings a text.

“Check it,” my father says.

I slide my phone out of my pocket and glance at the screen. It’s an alert from the airline. My flight has been canceled. I mutter, “Fucking. Prick,” under my breath.

“As I was saying.” My father leans forward, his elbows on his desk, and he steeples his fingers under his chin. “You will run the rush this summer. Your brothers did it before you. And believe it or not, Cooper, this year’s pledges are expecting you.”

“You mean their fathers are expecting me.”

He just continues like I didn’t even speak. “They know that you are a symbol of what Fang and Feather stands for.”

“That’s fucking sick, and you know it. I’m not babysitting incoming minions!”

“You absolutely are. You and Isabella are going to run the entire camp all summer long.”

Fuck. He got Isabella mixed up in this plan? This makes me hesitate. “And if I don’t?”

“Walk out, Cooper. Go ahead. I dare you. Walk out. Walk away from all of it. Isn’t that your favorite threat? Isn’t that your dream? Tell me to just go fuck myself, slide your sunglasses down your face like you’re some hotshot with power, and walk off into the sunset?” He laughs. “I’m going to make it very easy for you to do that now, son. You’re nearly a grown man. Might as well let you make these decisions for yourself. But if you walk out, you take nothing with you. Your entire cottage was packed up last night while you were in the drunk tank. Your car has been taken to a secure location. Your bank accounts have been emptied. And you won’t be able to go to Lars and Ax, either. I’ve already spoken with their fathers. They are in the same situation. Either the three of you show up at the Glass House for the rush, run it for the next eight weeks, and move forward in life humbled into submission—or all three of you lose everything.”

Humbled into submission? Did he really just say that?

I open my mouth to reply, but he cuts me off.

“There is no discussion. This is not a deal to be negotiated. That part happened while you were sobering up this morning. This is an order.” He leans back in his large, wingback office chair and smiles. “Do it. Or don’t. And if your answer is no, then goodbye, Cooper. I wish I could say it has been nice knowing you, but the truth is, the last fifteen years were practically unbearable. You make me tired. And I’m done dealing with you. This is your last chance with me. And before you say no, understand this. Either all three of you show up and run the rush, or you, Ax, and Lars are all cut off. The deal has been made. And it’s not just about money. I’ve already instructed your brothers that they will never speak to you again. If you walk away, you walk away from all of us. I will remove every picture of you I have. I will erase you from this family. Your brothers will forget you even exist.”

“Bull. Shit. Maybe Dane. But Jack?” No. Jack would not do that to me. We’re tight. Aren’t we?

“Call him. Ask him. Trust me, Cooper. They signed on before you were even bailed