Page 29 of Good Boy

"Fuck!" he cried out, his face contorting in pain. " I'm telling the truth!"

"Tell me about the favor, or I'll punch you in the fucking throat."

"Okay, okay! All I know is that Cynthia wanted something from my father. And in return, she promised him… something. That's all I got, man."

"Useless piece of shit," I muttered under my breath, releasing him and sitting back in my seat. My mind raced as I tried to make sense of Zander's words, wondering what sort of twisted scheme Cynthia was cooking up.

"Are you satisfied now?" he asked, rubbing his sore crotch and shooting me a venomous glare.

"Hardly."

He let out a breath, and in that instance, I knew he wasn't giving it all up. One thing I fucked hated about him. He loved wasting people's time.

"1…2—”

"Cynthia wanted me here tonight so I could hook up with you."

His words came out faster than a runaway freight train, cutting me off before I reached three.

I felt my jaw clench at his words, but I kept my cool, wanting to hear more of this fucked-up story. "That's it?"

He nodded, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "Yeah. She thought it would be good for you or some shit."

"Good for me?" I leaned back against the car seat and shook my head in disbelief. "What the fuck does that even mean?"

"Beats me, but that's what she wanted."

"Alright," I said, eyeing him skeptically. "So, what did you get out of this little arrangement?"

He wavered for a moment before answering. "Cynthia gave up her spot on a popular charity board so my mother could have it, and I got an invitation to Arthur's twenty-fifth birthday party."

"Arthur's party?" I snorted. "I guess you would agree. Just like you to be on the search for your next piece of rich ass."

I rolled my eyes at the mention of Arthur's name. That privileged fuckboy was just another of those rich assholes I never bothered to interact with.

"Look, man, it wasn't exactly my idea, but my father was all over it. Thinks it's good for business or something. So here I am."

My mind raced as I processed everything he had just told me. Cynthia meddling in my love life, Zander being used as a pawn, and all for some stupid party invitation. It was beyond fucked-up. And yet, here we were, sitting in my grandfather's vintage Rolls Royce, discussing a deal made behind closed doors.

"Un-fucking-believable," I said, lighting up my vape and taking a deep drag. The nicotine helped to calm the storm brewing inside me, but it couldn't erase the bitter taste left in my mouth from Zander's confession.

"Are we good now?" he asked, glancing over at me with a mixture of worry and hope.

"Nothing about this is good.” I blew out a cloud of smoke. "But for now, you've told me what I wanted to know."

"Great," he replied, visibly relieved. "So, can we just…move on?"

I stepped out of the car, ignoring his question, and slammed the door behind me as I made my way toward the garage door. My heart raced, my mind a flurry of anger and confusion.

"Driver," Zander called as he hurried after me, his footsteps echoing in the spacious garage. He grabbed my arm, spinning me around to face him. His eyes desperate, pleading for something I wasn't willing to give.

"Please," he whispered, leaning in as if to kiss me.

Every muscle in my body tensed. With a surge of adrenaline, I shoved him hard against the cold concrete wall behind him. The impact rattled the shelves full of car parts and tools.

"Get your fucking hands off me," I snarled. "I'm done with your shit, Z."

He winced, rubbing his back where it had connected with the wall. "Driver, I didn't want any of this to happen. I swear."