BILLS, BOOZE & BETRAYAL | LARRY AU

PROLOGUE

BILLS, BOOZE & BETRAYAL | PROLOGUE

"LOUIS!"

"Mum, I'm ten feet away from you, you don't need to scream your lungs out!" I mutter in annoyance and stand up to pad across the overly expensive wooden floors and lead myself to the living room, where my mother is sitting gracefully on the even more expensive, sickly white couch. "What?"

"What did you do again, Lou?"

"What the fuck, ma? I didn't do anything, why do you always have to assume I did something?"

"Because, my innocent little boy, you're all over the tabloids. Again."

"Well, I probably did do that. What the fuck is their obsession with me, anyway?"

"Well, you did get drunk and pose for the paparazzi. You can't blame them for taking the bait when you're dangling it right in front of their mouths."

"Weird metaphor, but okay." I huff in defeat before jumping over the couch and settling my head down on my mum's lap, the thought of the conversation I am prone to have with my dearest step-father at dinner later this evening running through my mind. "Mark's gonna be mad, isn't he?"

"Of course he is, and he's your father, Louis, the least you can do is show him some respect and not call him by his name."

"Mummy, he's not my father and we both know that. He's never been." I huff yet again, already tired of the day and it isn't even 10AM.

"Come on, get up now." Mum says, skilfully dodging the argument that could've been. We've had it one too many times and mum knows that I'm not one to back down or change my beliefs and opinions about something once I've set my mind upon that. "Go get dressed, isn't it your first day at work?"

"You mean the utterly useless job dad set up for me so that he can claim his only son to be even more of a disappointment in front of his golfing buddies?"

"The very same." She laughed and beckoned my head out of her lap, making me groan once again.

Great going, Louis. Fucking great.

"Motherfucker." I mutter under my breath as I very unwillingly drag myself into the bathroom for a nice, cold shower - one of the few things that make me remotely glad that my step-father is a rich bastard - and into the ridiculously big adjoining closet to find an outfit already laid out for me on the weird, studded couch-thingy.

It's so weird having those workers step into my room and my closet and shit, even though it's to clean up and lay my outfits out for me like this and stuff like that. It's been over six years and I'm still not used to this luxury.

We were poor, but at least we were happy with each other. I think to myself with an annoyed groan before putting on all the fancy shit and stepping out into the living room only to hear a gasp from my mother.

"My boy looks so handsome."

"Stop it, mum. Don't start now." I say with a pout, feigning distaste and irritation, but internally feeling loads better at the validation.

"I will. You look gorgeous, boobear." She says, bringing in the big guns and making me smile.

"Thanks, ma. Alright then, I'll get on with my day now."

"Wait, what about breakfast?"

"Eh, I'll just tell Z to make a stop on the way." I wave off her worries with a flick of my hand and she rests her hands on her hips in a disapproving manner.