Kylie Bray (Love, Hate and Billions)

Chapter 38 (Kylie)

It is a hard truth, many might not agree with me but sometimes life just isn't about you.

Sometimes life is about the people around you and since I've met Beggar I've realized that.

Today I found out her real name, I listened while Kevin and Vincent shared some of her secrets that I

am sure she wouldn't want some strange people knowing.

I thought about her life, living on the streets and I couldn't picture how such a young girl with no mother

or father could survive the way she did.

For as long as she has, unscathed.

Even though her memories haunt her, even though she is riddled with nightmares and a past that she

will never be able to escape, Beggar is the toughest woman I have ever met in my life.

Today I saw her before I came to Liston Hills, I was waiting for Aron to finish up his PlayStation game.

She was manning the bar at the clubhouse and I gave her my number and address. Even though I

know what I know about her I hope she uses it. Lord knows she could use a friend or few.

Looking out the car window I see if I can spot Dainy and Reagan. I came here on a hunch, but I didn't

really think he would come here of all places. This is where his mother was found dead.

Never mind she sold him to his father all those years ago or the fact that she didn't even give a shit to

pick up the phone and see if Reagan was good. She was still his mother.

No, maybe by blood, yes, but Gina Lorne was a scam artist. Her greediness for money awarded her

with a free and early ticket to death.

I feel no remorse for what happened to her, the woman was a bitch and I am glad she is dead, just sad

that Reagan has to deal with this shit.

I'm not sure how long I sit waiting in the car before I see Reagan carrying a sleeping Dainy to the car.

The two of them sit at the back making me feel like a fucking taxi service but I'm too tired to say shit, so

I leave it be.

I hear mumble words, then Dainy's voice,

“How long was I out.”

“Thirty-odd minutes,” I answer loudly.

“Glad to see I'm tiring you out.” Reagan gushes, his ego is just like his father's.

“The only thing tiring her out is boredom, I can't believe you went there, Jesus fuck do you have any

idea how many damn people I phoned, not to mention how many hours of my life I wasted.” I snap loud

and clear so he doesn't miss a word of my whiplash I am giving him.

Reagan and I have never had a close relationship, but he is my family, I care for him deeply. And as

Texan, as I am it is my duty to give him shit. Mama calls it tough love, I call it getting crapped on.

“And the almost jail time when you called me and Victoria to meet you and Dexter so you can swap

rides.” Dainy points out.

“Yeah and that too, what the hell is up that guy's ass. You'd think he'd be nicer to me after all these

years.”

I don't say that I deserve his shitty attitude because I am me. I am the 'tough' Kylie Bray. If only people

knew how much of that 'toughness' is just pretending, they'd laugh at how good I am at it and how

stupid they are to believe I am a tough cookie.

“Didn't you hit Dexter with your car?” Reagan says it like a question when we all know I did.

“He was far away, I didn't know how the hell he got in front of the car.” I retort with sarcasm.

“He was in hospital, with two fractured ribs, and a sprained ankle Kylie, clearly he wasn't that far away.” Property of Nô)(velDr(a)ma.Org.

“Bygones and all that jazz sugar, I can't be held accountable for something in the past when I'm living in

the present,” I drawl in my famous Kylie twang, as I turn into the cabin's driveway.

After my extremely busy day and night, I'm ready for a stiff drink and a hot bath. The party is in full

swing and though the morning owls have started their calls of the devil's hour I know I am going to get

the drink, not the bath just yet.

The night is utterly still and once I have my three fingers of brandy in my hand and my pleasantries out

of the way, I am walking toward the trees away from the bustle of the party.

“Is it me or are you avoiding me.” Vincent's throaty voice comes from behind me.

My nerves spike as the memory of his fingers wrapping around my neck. The glee in his eyes doing it

and that fucking kiss that shattered everything I thought I knew about my stepbrother and his feelings

toward me, with it that sick feeling I get from him just being in the room.

Knowing that he has come here just to talk to me has my insides tingling. Not enough to forgive his

transgressions, not enough to forget that he kissed me and hasn't contacted me in months. Or the

simple fact that Beggar was branded like a dog after he swore they didn't traffic and enslave women.

Definitely not enough.

I wasted so many fucking days of my life thinking about him when he couldn't even pick up the phone.

This is all a game to Vincent, and it is here, now at the Cabin on the Estate under the oak tree that I

think I don't want to play Vincent's game. I want to be done with him.