Hateful Bully - Logan Fox Page 0,3
never been one to withhold things. He reckons, if we’re going to do it anyway, then we might as well do it as a family. He only lets us have one glass at the dinner table during the week, and on weekends, we get an extra beer after.
Candy thinks he’s God’s gift to bitches. At the moment, she’s fixated on Diana trying to coerce Emma into using a fork, watching the exchange under lowered lashes as she eats, but usually, her focus is reserved entirely for her new stepfather.
“So, Candace, are you up for a rematch?”
Yup, there it is. In an instant, Candy’s own mother could have burst into flame, and she wouldn’t have noticed—her big blue eyes are glued to my father. Instead of answering immediately, she takes a hasty sip of her wine. Hers is red; she thinks it makes her seem more grown-up than she is.
That’s Candy’s thing.
I guess it’s because she’s petite, small-breasted, narrow-shouldered. From what I gather, she couldn’t be more than two years younger than me, but where I inherited my father’s tall, broad-shouldered build and dark hair, she takes after her mother. When mother and daughter are in the same room, it becomes obvious that Diana Furey isn’t a natural blond. Candy’s blue eyes pop against her dark hair, but Diana’s same baby blues look watery paired with her platinum-dyed blond hair.
That’s not the only thing Diana’s faking. Unless Candy’s still developing—which I doubt—Diana’s D cups were made in China.
My father seems blind to the fact that he’s dating a fake. Just as Candy’s apparently too stupid to realize that my father is an asshole.
Having sipped theatrically at her drink, Candy gives my father a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t know, Wayne,” she says, “Can you handle another beating?”
I’m grinding my teeth and shove a piece of dry chicken into my mouth, so at least I’m not wasting energy.
Someone’s looking at me.
I glance up. Emma’s peeking at me. I smile at her and then move my gaze to her plate. She widens her eyes at me and shakes her head a little.
No.
I look up, making it clear that I’m first staring at my father, then at Diana, before meeting Emma’s eyes again.
She takes after my real mom. Bonnie had fair hair, dark eyes, and the most infectious smile I’d ever seen.
No one’s looking.
Emma takes turns looking at everyone around the table, and then back at me. She bites her lip, ducks her head, and pops a potato into her mouth.
No one notices.
No one cares.
Emma grins at me around some mashed potatoes, and I smile back at her.
My father lets out a deep laugh. “You know I’ve been letting you win, right?” Instantly, Diana and Candy both start giggling.
I roll my eyes at Emma, and potato sprays out of her mouth at how hard she laughs at my expression.
The table goes silent.
Emma claps both hands over her mouth, her shoulders collapsing like she’s deflating from the inside.
“Wash up and go to bed, Emma,” my father says. “I’ll come to tuck you in a little later.”
Emma’s eyes widen. She keeps her hands over her mouth as she slips off the chair and scrambles up the stairs to her bedroom.
“She wasn’t done eating,” I say, sitting back in my seat and crossing my arms over my chest.
My father shrugs, leaning an elbow on the table as he makes eye contact with me. He grabs his wine glass, studying me with his head tilted to the side as he brings it to his mouth. “She could do to lose a few pounds,” he says.
Anger bursts open inside me like someone stepping on rotten fruit. I stand up so fast, my chair tumbles to the floor behind me.
Diana gasps, a hand fluttering to her chest as if I’ve just unveiled a fucking assault rifle. I bare my teeth, but all my father does is give me a cool, condescending smile.
“Time you went to bed too,” he says.
“I’m not a kid anymore.”
Wayne Bale takes a long sip of his wine, glances across at Candy—who’s watching me with an unreadable expression—and then hitches up one side of his mouth. “Sure acting like one, Josiah.”
Candy sniggers, hurriedly covering up the sound with a hand.
My father stands. He’s a head and shoulders taller than I am, and I’m already five-eight. “Come, Candy Cane. We’ll see who’s gonna whip who.”
Diana’s up in an instant, but instead of following, she just waves at my father as she passes him on her way to the kitchen.