Rich Prick – Tijan Page 0,48

talk this out or just go right to punching? I’m down with either.”

He eased away. “I’ve no doubt you’re good with throwing a punch. I’ve seen you do it.”

Now that I thought about it, I had intimidated Brian when I shoved him against the wall. And I’d told Jamie he couldn’t hang with me if he was scared of fighting. So I guess in that way, I was as guilty as Zeke. Well, fuck me then.

But I hadn’t hit anyone except Brian that one time. I’d wanted to throw down a few times, but I always refrained, which was a good thing. Me fighting was not good, ever. Everyone knew my brother could fight, but no one knew my rep. I’d left that back in New York and been thankful to escape it.

“Why do you think I’ve never called your bluff about fighting?” he asked quietly.

I sneered at him. “The dick part of me wants to say it’s because you’re a pansy.” His eyes went flat, and I smirked. “But the part of me that’s trying not to be that guy has no clue.” A beat. “So why not?”

“Because I know how you are. I know you’re not bluffing about fighting.”

Well, shit. “You’ve seen videos?”

“I’ve seen it in person.”

I frowned, shooting him a look. “When?”

“When we were in third grade.”

“What?”

“Why do you think I love you so much?” He shook his head, stupefied. “I was getting my ass beat by two fifth graders. A sixth grader was in on it too, and then suddenly out of nowhere, you came barreling in. You kicked their asses—and you were in third grade with me. Those guys had been bullying me since first grade. You show up, and after one afternoon, they never messed with me again. You did that.”

I wanted to roll my eyes. “You’re telling me that because you were bullied, you turned into the biggest piece of shit?”

He barked out a laugh. “No. I’m telling you that I saw what you could do when you were a third grader. I sure as shit know you ain’t bluffing. Fuck, brother. Half the time I think you’re salivating over the chance someone will call your bluff, but no one will. We all know it ain’t a front.”

“You could organize a group. Get the drop on me.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “And then what? We’d have to kill you to keep you down. You’d heal and come back and fuck every one of us over. And while you were healing, I know that brother of yours would come around. His crew too.”

Maybe. “So why are you such a piece of shit with people?”

He cursed. “Can you drop the dick attitude right now? I’m here for peace and resolution. I won’t want that if you keep insulting me.”

I nodded. “Yeah, right. Sorry.”

Now that he’d mentioned it, I remembered that day. I remembered that whole year, and those guys had picked on Zeke every single day. Before school. During recess. During lunch. After school. I finally had enough, and that’s when Zeke became my best friend. He became my shadow, and I never lost him after that. The reason it started had just faded from my mind.

“I’m a hothead,” I told him. “And I’m a prick, and I’m pretty messed up about my family. None of that’s a good recipe.”

“I get that.” He nodded, moving to sit next to me on the bleachers. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. We faced the empty football field. “I may be a lot of things. And I’m not proud of what I became while you were gone, but you’re back. I remember how it feels to know no one’s gonna mess with me with you at my side. It means something to me.” His tone grew hoarse, and he looked away. “Since you came back, I’ve remembered that I wasn’t such a bad guy before. I just morphed into him when you left. It sucks, and I gotta learn how to not be this guy, but it’s hard. It’s a lot of work.”

I grunted and held up a fist.

He hit it with his own.

“You and me both.” Works in progress.

He studied me a second. “That chick helping you?”

I nodded. “I think so. I’m not a dick when I’m around her.”

“So you going to finally tell me her name?”

I smirked. “Like you don’t know. And no, I’m not officially telling you.”

“What?” His eyes flared. “Why not? I’m your best friend.”

Yeah, I supposed he was. But I