Crash and Burn

Two

I'm still searching for more readers! It would be so awesome if you guys could spread the word about this story! But it would be even more awesome if you could take a moment to vote or even to comment! Anything would be so awesome and I'd be so grateful! 

Thanks guys! xx Hilda :) 

Oh and thats Charles Styder at the side > 

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TWO

-Cole-  

When the first thing you hear in the morning is your father, nagging and bitching at you, I can tell you that you’d want to throw a pillow at him and tell him to back the hell off. However, if your father was the most powerful man in the world, a person who could have anyone do his bidding with a single word of command…then damn, you would wake up.

     Especially if you were truly and definitely the son of Rickard Thorne, President of the United States of fucking America.

     “Jesus Christ, Cole!” My father hissed, the southern twang in his voice barely recognizable. “You were spotted in three different clubs last night! The board of directors at Yale are thinking of the reputation you’re giving the school! They’re thinking twice before even allowing you back into the lectures! What the hell is the matter with you?”

     My head throbbed madly. The Jack Daniels’ and tequila shots had begun to catch up to me.

     What the hell do you want me to say to you?

     Oh right…nothing. Absolutely nothing. My father’s only goal was to keep the family straight and make sure he won his second term in the elections. The crap publicity that came with the name of ‘Cole Thorne' would only ever bring down his chances at winning.

     Having a playboy son who cared only for anything with mile-long legs and a great rack? Well…that didn’t exactly count as ‘perfect son’ material.

     At least my mom thought I was her ‘special little boy!’, if that still counted for anything.

     “Cole, enough is enough,” He said quietly, sounding exasperated.

     I groaned, lifting my head up, neck barely off my pillow. The light coming into the large windows made my sight, for a moment, blur completely. I then craned my neck towards my father who was the perfect picture of the perfect president.

    “What is it supposed to mean?” I asked, annoyed.

    “Does it mean Boarding school? Have you been so consumed by your work that you’ve missed my past six birthdays and you don’t know how old I am? I’m twenty-one, if you’re interested,” I spat out bitterly.

     My words were a full-armed low blow. Usually, I’d feel some kind of sympathy but for now, maybe it was the alcohol still in my system. Liquid courage.

     Rickard Thorne always tried to be the three perfect men in one individual; the husband, catering to his wife’s every need, the president, saving the world—one country at a time and finally, the father.

     He never had the time for the whole fathering thing and he always resented that. Mom always said that he always wanted more. I think that he would forget he was just one man most of the time.

     He wasn’t Super-fucking-man.

     “If you’re going to lecture me, do you mind doing it when I’m fully clothed?” I groaned, letting my head fall back into the soft, welcoming pillow. Goddamn. All I wanted to do was get some sleep!