Slowly, I turn around, golf bag hanging on my shoulder, and adjust my sunglasses as I take in the sight of Cleat Burgess.
“Cleat,” I say, giving him a smooth once-over. “Wasn’t aware you spent your weekends away from your mistress.”
His sharp eyebrows narrow. “She’s waiting in the clubhouse.”
Figures.
Cleat Burgess is the epitome of a wanker. A fucking twat who cheats on his wife every chance he gets, especially on the weekends, and he makes no attempt to change his behavior. He’s a cheat, he’s an arsehole, and he’d sell his first kid if it meant he could gain an inch on the competition. I’ve never liked him.
“Does your pa know you’re here?” he asks.
Knowing how this man works and the way he enjoys grating on people’s nerves, I regain my composure, not showing an ounce of the discomfort I feel, knowing that I’m probably teeing off with this prick.
“No,” I answer.
A wicked smile spreads over Cleat’s mouth. “And why would that be?”
“Didn’t feel like dealing with his ever-present halitosis.”
His smile grows even wider. “No wonder why he despises you.” The feeling is mutual. “You’re a little shit.”
I tilt my head in Cleat’s direction, not wanting to spend more time with him than I have to. “Always a pleasure.” When I turn away from him to see if I can grab a pint before I tee off, I spin right into a familiar body, his cologne a rich musk, the fabric of his clothes velvety soft and expensive. The deep, brown gaze staring back at me, the same as mine.
I’m going to kill my brother.
“Pike,” my pa says, his voice stunned. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Strapping on my smart-arse pants, because they’re the only ones I know how to wear when I’m around my pa, my only defense mechanism, I say, “Why, Pa-pah”—I make a show of it, raising my voice and acting like a cheerful tosser—“I’m so delighted to see you.” I lean in and give him a hug. His body is stiff as a board and I feel him already starting to fume.
“For fuck’s sake, Pike, don’t cause a scene.”
I let go of him. “Cause a scene? Why on earth would I do that? I’m just so happy to see my own flesh and blood, the one who disowned me and told me to crawl up my own arsehole and die.”
His eyes sharpen. I’ve struck a chord.
Pa is always about his perceived image. The Greysons are held to a high standard, and we’ve been forced to live in not only the spotlight, but to live up to both public expectations and those put on us by our patriarch.
“It would behoove you to shut your mouth and act like a civilized human,” he whispers through clenched teeth. “Something I know will be quite difficult for you.”
“Because I’m a dodgy animal after all, right? Uncaged. Untamed.”
He adjusts the collar of his shirt and puts on a fake smile for the people around us. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Making this your worst nightmare.” Isn’t that obvious? I mean, as a person looking in, it’s obvious, right? From previous comments my pa has shouted at me, you’d think that would be his conclusion. Not that I’m here for something other than him. Not that I would be here for, I don’t know . . . a foundation.
“I’m going to have a word with the organizer. Your presence isn’t needed for our foundation since I’m here.”
“I’m not playing for your scam of a foundation that awards grants to rich kids.” Yeah, don’t even get me fucking started on the McArthur Greyson Scholarly Grant. The biggest crock of shit I’ve ever seen. “I’m here for Rabid Readers.”
“Killian,” he whispers, realization hitting him from the obvious setup by my brother. “The half-baked bugger is too lazy to come out here and earn the money himself, so he sends his gormless git brother.” Pa rolls his eyes.
The words gormless git sear into my bones.
Those two words have been associated to my person for as long as I can remember. One of four kids in my family, I’m smack dab in the middle of my siblings, the troublemaker, according to my parents, the failure, the one who can’t seem to get his shit together. The one who didn’t make smart choices, but was constantly the gormless git. The idiot. The embarrassment. The black sheep.
It’s why I left England, to get away from my pa’s toxic hatred, from having to see the constant disappointment in his eyes.