Chapter Twenty-Seven
Boyd was feeling like the millions of dollars his trust fund held for him. The only thing that was lacking in his life, it seemed, was some closure about how the interview would go before the board members. Despite his dubious past, there didn't seem to be much that would stand in his way in that regard. Opal was at work, and he was looking for something to buy her as a gift. It was coming up to their one-month anniversary. As lame as it was to celebrate something like that, he'd always thought, Boyd knew this was a momentous occasion.
Opal was his first real girlfriend. Their relationship wasn't based just around sex, drugs, booze, money, and all the other things that ensured someone ended up being hurt. And she wasn't just a fuck buddy who he enjoyed talking to after sex. This felt more real than anything, since his parents died in that terrible accident at least. He tried to keep that from his mind, but being sober most of the time, and never getting truly wasted any more, made that increasingly difficult.
That's why Boyd did not know how to respond when he came across a man who looked very unhappy to see him. They were outside of Boyd's building. He'd just picked up a dainty, silver bracelet with a cute love heart on it. Maybe it wasn't the ideal gift, but he'd spent a long time choosing, and didn't just go for something that cost a lot.
"I need to talk to you, Boyd Houston," said the man. He looked familiar and it was certain that he recognized Boyd. "You're a thief."
"What? Who are you? Did my uncle put you up to this shit? Well, I'm not in the mood!" He pushed by the guy and nodded to the door man to not let him in.
"Where do you think you're going, asshole? I need to talk to you." The guy might have been a bit drunk, or maybe he'd just been up really late. He didn't smell like booze, or look like the sort of person who tended to over indulge in that sort of thing.
"You really caught me at the wrong time, pal. Just get out of my way or you're going to wish you stayed in bed this morning."
"I haven't been to bed yet. I can't sleep without her. But you've gone and ruined any chance I had of getting Opal back, haven't you!" He shoved Boyd with fairly strong muscles.
"Your name Dwayne? Are you her ex-fiancé?"
"That's fucking right, you spoilt brat. And I know all about you. I found out plenty. What do you think Opal will say when she finds out you've been lying to her?" Boyd started to sweat a little, a cold and heart breaking sweat. What could this guy possibly have dug up?
"Is it money you're after, Dwayne? We both know there's no chance in hell that Opal's going to take you back after the way you threw her under the bus. And for what? To impress your little butt buddy, Owen? You're not even a real man." It was too late to become friends with him, so Boyd figured he might as well have his say.
"Now I'm definitely going to tell her. I've got her new number now, you know. I left a message on her machine. She'll call me back, and I'll talk to her and say what you've been up to."
"You look like shit. Just go home and get some sleep. There must be plenty of boring girls for you to do the missionary position with before crying to them about being picked last for tennis at the country club."
"Look who's talking. Rich brat who's been using women like jizz rags for his whole life." The words were twisted, like Dwayne's mouth was only barely capable of actually letting them pass through.
"That's probably a really naughty thing to say where you're from. Tell you what though: Opal knows all about that stuff, and has known since the first time we met. You think I'm scared of a poser like you? You wish you came from real money, just like you wish you were as fucking awesome as me. That's what Opal wants, a guy who's actually got a pair. She doesn't give a fuck about money and fancy distractions. She's better than you, and better than me too by far."
"Then why don't you just let her go? What do you want with a girl who doesn't have sex for money anyway?" He looked like he wanted to punch Boyd, but seemed unsure of himself.
"You had your chance, and you're not such a nice guy after all, isn't that right? In fact, Dwayne, you ended up being a real jerk. While she's better than you and me, I'm still way better than you. Fuck off." He walked by and caught a fist to the back of the head. It was a hard hit, clearly from someone who worked out. But the actual motion was sloppy and unpracticed. He turned around.
"I'm going to ignore that because you hit like a little kid. I also don't think you've ever been in a fight in your life, so it wouldn't be fair to beat the shit out of you. And unlike you, I have things worth living for. I don't need the trouble. Like I told you already, fuck—off—loser." He walked inside and went to his penthouse apartment, feeling even better than he had before that altercation.