Dirty Filthy Rich Boys (Dirty Duet Book 1) by Laurelin Paige

Author:Laurelin Paige [Paige, Laurelin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Paige Press LLC
Published: 2017-02-21T18:00:00+00:00

The friend, it turned out, was Brett Larrabee. I’d been aware of Brett from the parties at The Keep, but we’d never officially met, and I was glad for the introduction. An extremely extroverted, politically conservative, openly homosexual African American, Brett was an oxymoron, and I found him absolutely intriguing.

He was also quite a talker. He’d led us to a small Vietnamese café, that was surprisingly not busy considering how good the food was, and proceeded to monopolize the majority of the conversation while we ate.

I didn’t mind. I was happy just to be included on the excursion. Every few minutes I had to remind myself I was awake, that this wasn’t a dream. That I was actually sitting at a table making a fool of myself with chopsticks in front of Weston King.

“The DOW is down, the DOW is down, the DOW is down,” Brett said with weary distress as he scrolled through his financial app on his phone. Even though he talked a lot, he still managed to eat the fastest. He’d finished and had been playing on his cell for the last five minutes. “The Fed better not raise interest rates. It is not the time.”

“Dad says it’s coming soon,” Weston said, pushing away his plate.

“Oh!” Brett’s head popped up with the news of something he’d just remembered. “Did you hear about Theodore Sheridan?”

Theo. I dropped my sticks at the mention of his name. Fortunately, I’d dropped them so many times, no one noticed. Hopefully no one noticed my hands shaking as I took a sip of my water, my throat suddenly dry.

Weston considered a minute. “Nothing interesting I can think of.”

Then you didn’t hear the one where he almost raped a girl in front of your own porch? At least it was reassuring to know that Donovan hadn’t told all his roomies. Not that I’d thought he was much of the sharing type.

Brett bent over the table and lowered his voice. “He got busted with more than a kilo of coke.”

“And you’re just mentioning this now?” Weston asked, as if reading my mind. Maybe Theo wasn’t a close enough friend for him to consider it headline news, but it was to me.

That wasn’t something I cared for anyone to know, though, so I kept my head low, scooting noodles around in my bowl. I’d lost any appetite that remained the minute I’d heard his name.

“Huh,” Weston said, running his hand through his hair. “I knew he had a problem with blow, but what the fuck was he doing to draw attention to himself?”

“I don’t know, but he was charged with intent to sell.”

“Theo doesn’t need money. He got his entire trust fund at eighteen.”

“He’s saying it’s all cooked up charges or something. Whatever. Daddy Sheridan will get him off, but he’s out for the year here.”

“Crazy.”

While it was a relief to think that Theo wouldn’t be around anymore, I didn’t get too excited by the thought that he’d face any prison time. Brett was right—his money and his privilege would get him off.

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