Beautiful, Dirty, Rich

Title: Beautiful, Dirty, Rich
Genre: Black comedy, psycological thriller, murder mystery...
Rating: R for language, sexual content, drug use, some violence.
Main Characters: Adam Lambert, Danny Gokey, Katharine McPhee, Adam Lambert, Kris Allen, Michael Johns, Carrie underwood, Scott MacIntyre, Megan Joy, Tatiana Del Toro, David Cook, David Archuleta and most of the season 8 people.
Summary: After landing in trouble in California, 18 year old Adam Lambert has been sent to live with his estranged father in Manhattan's Upper East Side. He attends Xavier Prepratory School, one of the city's finest private high schools. Soon, he gets interwined in a weave of sex, lies and murder, and ends up in a fight to stay alive....
Disclaimer: I do not own shit. Thank you.
Author's Note: I must strongly state that I do not necesarily agree with some of the more sensitive topics that may come up. It is not my intentions to offend anyone. I don't see certain characters in the way they may be portrayed. This is fiction, and I did my best on this to entertain you guys. And have a happy Thanksgiving!!!

Beautiful, Dirty, Rich



Chapter One

A young man stood in front of a pair of bright red double doors.

He had been standing there for a good few minutes, debated whether or not he wanted to go inside. The New York City sun beat down against his back, and perspiration beaded on his forehead.

It was an incredibly hot day, and Adam Lambert felt as if he were going to melt in a puddle of wax on the door steps. How did New Yorkers survive such humidity? He didn't have the answer to that question, but he knew one thing; it was far too hot to sit in a stuffy classroom with a bunch of snobby, overprivledged kids. He would much rather hop on the downtown 6 train and spend the rest of the day roaming the East Village.

The second option was much more appealing. However, spending the next two years in a California prison, did not. It would be a million times worse than simply going to school.

Defeated, Adam pressed rang the bell, shuffling on his feet. A few seconds later, the lock released and he yanked it open.

A short, older woman was standing near the staircase. "Are you a new student?" she inquired, her upper lip curling.

No, I'm wearing this dumb as uniform because I love how it makes my ass look. "Yeah."

"Can I have your name?" she asked.

"Adam Lambert," he replied, simply.

"Please follow me. You're late." the secretary reprimanded, sharply. She turned on her heel and strode down the hall. Her heels clacked loudly against the polished floor. They passed a row of red painted lockers before they reached a heavy oak door. "Headmaster" was embossed on a shiny gold plaque.

Adam snorted. Headmaster. He felt like he'd been transported back three centuries. The woman glared back at him. "Do you need a cough drop?"

"Nope. I'm just fine." responded Adam.

"Please have a seat." She gestured to a stiff looking winged back chair in the waiting area.

Adam removed his neon green Dickies messenger back from his shoulder and tossed it in the empty chair next to him. He looked around the office. Like most of the Upper East Side, it oozed pretension. Every piece of furnishing was dark oak, and the plush carpeting was a deep shade of blue. Along the walls were photos of deceased former headmasters and headmistresses of Xavier Preparatory School. He caught his reflection in the chrome lamp. It looked distorted, like he was gazing into one of those funhouse mirrors. It seemed to mirror how he'd been feeling ever since he stepped off the plane at JFK three weeks ago.

Adam felt like a different person. Almost everything in his life had changed drastically over the summer. He didn't like it one bit. He missed Los Angeles and its laid back, casual atmosphere. But as he was constantly reminded, he had nothing in California anymore. Sighing, he picked at the black nail polish he wore. Still, he could make out his features; bright, ice blue eyes, pale, freckled skin, and Patrician features. His hair was dyed jet black, and his bangs covered his forehead. If it hadn't been for his heavy black eyeliner and his rough edges, he could have easily fit in with the well moneyed crowd.

By the time the secretary announced he could see the principal-er, headmaster- he'd picked off all the polish on his pinky. Snatching up his bookbag, he pushed open the walnut door.

An older man with greying hair sat behind an enormous mahogany desk. Flipping through a thick file, Mr Lythgoe said in his prim British accent, "You've finally decided to show up. Please have a seat. We have a lot to discuss."

Adam slid into the blue velvet loveseat and folded his legs beneath him. Mr Lythgoe stared at him studiously for a few seconds. Many psychiatrists had given him that same stare. Watching him intently, as if he was a lab rat, and they were waiting for him to press the exact lever they expected. He was tired of it. The young man stared back into Lythgoe's horse-like face, giving what he knew was a cold, hard glare.

"Can you explain why you're late?" questioned Mr Lythgoe, resting his hands on his desk.

"Its nothing epic. I got lost. Its a big, new city." replied Adam, simply.

"This time, I will excuse you. But you must know that tardiness is not acceptable here at Xavier. It is a sign of laziness and carelessness. You must arrive at school on time," lectured Lythgoe.

"I'll try."

Mr Lythgoe gave him a disproving stare. Adam didn't care. "Now that we've got that, we can move onto more important matters. Have you seen one of these?" The headmaster slid over a slim paperback book.

Adam picked it up. "Xavier Preparatory School Code of Conduct," he read aloud. "Nope. Not until now."

"I suggest you read it at your earliest convenience. Here at Xavier, we have strict rules each student must adhere to or face expulsion."

"Of course." Adam yawned, drumming his fingers against the chairs arm. He hadn't been able to sleep last night-like any other night-and Mr Lythgoe's drawn out speech was making him drowsy.

"I must stress how important it is for you of all people to be on your best behaviour at all times. As you're fully aware of, the only reason you're attending this school is because of a favour to your father. Mr Lambert has been a generous to this school over the years, so it was only right to allow you to attend. Yet, this does not give you a pass to do as you desire. You step out of line once and you're out. Am I clear?"

Adam couldn't stop his eyes from rolling. It was always about money with these people. "Its clear as fucking crystal."

"Language!" barked Mr Lythgoe. "That is not tolerated here. I see your academic records aren't nearly as impressive as your criminal record. It's mandatory that all students must maintain a GPA of at least 2.0. Yours isn't close. If you cannot keep your grades up, you will be asked to leave. We can assist you in finding a tutor if you need help."

Adam scowled, but didn't say anything. Mr Lythgoe went on. "You must see the school therapist, Dr Eze, each Friday afternoon."

Adam rolled his eyes again. "I've seen many therapists over the years. None of them has made any difference. What's special about this one?"

"Do not use that tone. You will see him as you're supposed to. These are the conditions of your admission, as well as release. You must attend school, on time, everyday. If you're absent, it has to be for a very good reason. Unless you have questions, this meeting is over."

Adam shook his head. He didn't want to be stuck in this office any longer. Mr Lythgoe gave him a fake smile, revealing his yellowed, bucked teeth. "You have been offered a generous deal. Do not let your attitude endanger it. You may leave."

Finally. Adam stood and straightened out the midnight blue blazer. The hallways were empty, but he could hear the chatter of students and teachers from the classroom. He pulled out his rumbled schedule. He'd already missed homeroom and first period, and right now he was supposed to be having French, in room 125, which was at the end of the hallway.

He walked into a sea of students, all wearing identical blazers, girls and boys alike. The boys' uniform consisted of beige khakis, a white button up blouse and blue tie. The girls wore light blue blouses and blue and white plaid skirts. Their feet were clad in expensive heels in various styles.

"So, what was your summer like?" Adam heard a blonde girl ask.

"I lost my virginity!" the brunette seated next to her squealed excitedly. "It was Ah.Ma.Zing."

Must she pronounce every freakin' syl-la-ble? He'd always found it incredibly annoying when people spoke like that. Since he didn't want to hear their vagina monologues, Adam wandered to the back of the classroom. He could feel the curious stares of his classmates. He paid them no mind. A guy wearing a pair of thick framed black Versace glasses looked at him before smirking and whispering something to a girl with shaggy blonde hair. Adam shot him a glare, and sat two seats behind him, next to a skinny Hispanic kid. The kid kept staring at him as if he'd just landed from a different galaxy.

"Excuse me, you're in my seat."

Adam looked up. An Indian kid with his long brown hair tied into a knot on his head was standing over him. Did I hear wrong? "Excuse me?"

"I said, you're in my seat. Move."

Is everyone in New York a douchebag? "I wasn't aware the seats were assigned to any specific person." said Adam slowly, looking the kid up and down. He was short and skinny; he looked like he was twelve years old. "Are you sure you're in the right building, kiddo? The elementary school is on the next block."

A few people laughed and the other boy frowned. "Look, I'm not looking to start a fight," he said in what he probably thought was a menacing voice. "But-"

Adam snorted. This fool really thought he could take on him, didn't he? Before he could say anything though, an obnoxious voice rang out.

"San-vagina, what the fuck do you think you're doing? Since when do you have motherfucking pull around here to tell someone where they can and can't sit?"

So much for the no cussing rule, thought Adam. The whole class burst out laughing and the boy blushed. "Didn't think so. Go and sit your dumb ass down." It was the guy with the glasses.

San-vagina said nothing else but went to opposite of the room. The class had began to fill up. Adam looked at the guy and said, "I didn't need you doing that. I can handle myself."

The boy shrugged. "Whatever, big shot. My name is Danny, by the way."

"Adam."

The conversation ended there because the teacher walked into the room. Adam was fine with that. He wasn't in the mood to talk. He didn't care about making friends with anyone. His main concern was keeping his ass out of jail.

Even though sitting in this small, hot classroom in this stupid, itchy blazer almost felt like prison.
************
Adam couldn't wait until the bell rang, signaling the end of Calculus. He couldn't take being in the damn class another fucking second. The teacher, Mr Smith, a young Black man who was the son of a retired baseball player, was a complete asshole. Adam used to be pretty good at Math, but after skipping out on class for the past two or so years, he was rusty. He'd chosen the seat all the way in the back of the classroom.

Because of his shitty luck, Mr Smith chose Adam to answer all his questions. By the fifth question, the young man simply couldn't take any more.

"Listen, Mister," said Adam, getting to his feet, his cheeks flushed. "Why do you keep asking me these questions? I don't know if they taught you this in teacher school, or asshole school, but since I didn't have my hand raised, that means I don't know the answer, okay? Hand up, know the answer. Hand down? Guess what? I'm stumped." He knew he was going to get into trouble for this; he didn't care. He hated feeling like a moron, especially in front of the entire class.

Giggles and snickers and a few surprised gasps were heard throughout the classroom. Mr Smith sneered. "Excuse me?"

"You're excused, sir." replied Adam, his arms folded.

"Go to the headmaster's office. Now."

"Yes, sir." Adam smiled and swept out of the room without a second look. He still felt stupid and humiliated. Instead of giving the teacher the satisfaction of knowing this, he did what he always did in such situations; switch to anger and sarcasm. Thankfully, that had been the last class of the day; afterward was the all-school assembly, and then he'd be free.

Once he got to the principal's office, the secretary informed Adam that My Lythgoe was having a meeting. Adam was glad for this, since he hadn't wanted to hear another long lectures about the "proper conduct of Xavier Prep". Since the class was still in session, he opted to find his locker, since he hadn't the chance to do so earlier.

Finally, found locker number 524. It was at the end of the hall, near the cafeteria. Something, rather someone caught his eye. It was a girl. She was bent over the water fountain. Adam admired the gentle curve of her back. She had a slender waist and round hips. Her perky butt was high in the air. A flash of heat flowed through his veins at the sight, but also a pang of loneliness.

The instant he realised he'd been staring too long, the girl straightened up. Shaking out her long, technicolour red hair, she gave him a curious look. "Um, hi," she greeted. Her voice had a sexy, raspy quality.

"Hi." replied Adam, his eyes scanning her up and down. He thought she was gorgeous, in a refreshing way. Most of the girls he'd seen today were beautiful, but in a more elegant and typical way. This one was short, even with the spiked heels she wore (black, with a cherry red heel), she barely reached his shoulder. Her brown eyes were the colour of whiskey, and she wasn't wearing a shitload of make up. Her face was round and friendly.

"I haven't seen you around here before. You must be the new kid. I've heard a lot about you." the girl surmised.

Adam nodded. "Yeah, I am." He turned to his locker to begin entering the combination.

"Nice. From where?" she questioned.

"California." Adam tried opening the door, but it wouldn't budge. "What the fuck?"

"They get jammed sometimes," explained the red head, rolling her eyes. "Its so annoying. You gotta hit it hard. It'll loosen up."

He'd been wanting to hit something all day. Adam curled his fist and forcefully slammed it into the locker. With a loud clang, it jumped open.

"You hit like a bitch," snickered the girl. The bell rang, signaling the beginning of the assembly. "I've gotta run, but I'll see you around. My name is Allison, if I haven't told you." She smiled before dashing off to catch up with a group of girls. "Megan, wait up!"

Adam stood against, the locker, and watched her leave. Maybe coming to school tomorrow wouldn't be half bad...
******
Ain't to pleased with the ending...but I hope ya'll like it anyway! Thanks in advance...and Happy thanksgiving!!!

A very interesting first chapter, Tia. Maybe it's because of the location of the story...but I'm getting a 'Cruel Intentions' vibe from it. But I will say this...I like it..a lot! Bring on some!!

Ma'am, I so admit that I was inspired by Cruel Intentions! *nods* I love these tales of rich kids gone while, hehe. xD Thanks so much for the comment! I didn't have resources to do research..so I took the easy road and chose to set it in my hometown, lol.

You may have taken the easy road with the setting but with your impressive writing style it doesn't matter. The story could be in my backyard and you'd still weave together a brilliant tale. I like the whole, "Cruel Intentions" feel to this and I'm looking foward to seeing where you take us on this latest tale of yours. Great job, Tia.

Thank you so much, Traci You're awesome.

Finally...chapter two. Haha.

Chapter Two

Adam walked into the auditorium, his eyes scanning the room for Allison. He didn't see her amongst the swarm of students. Feeling slightly disappointed, he pushed his way through the back of the auditorium. "Is this seat taken?" he asked the skinny, pale brown haired kid.

The boy looked up. "If you're going to sit there, then yes. Its taken."

Smart ass. Adam glared. Is everyone in this city an asshole? People in Los Angeles were also rude, but usually, it was veiled with a fake smile. Here, people were so blatant with it. He wasn't sure which was worse. Once he sat down the kid introduced himself.

"I'm Alexander Wagner-Trugman, but you can call me Alex. Are you new?"

"My name is Adam. Lambert. Only one last name. And yeah, I am new."

Alex grinned slightly. "I have two last names because my parents are gay. It sounds very anal, but it is my real name."

"Everything about this place is fucking anal." Adam grumbled.

"It is. I hate this place so much," Alex rolled his eyes. "I can't wait to graduate. I've been begging my dads to let me go someplace else, but this place has the best rate of graduates getting into Ivy League schools..."

"Ha." There was no way Adam would ever get accepted at an Ivy League school. At this rate, he'd be lucky to even get into community college. It didn't bother him, though. Attending college and working a nine to five desk job afterwards wasn't his dream. It was stifling in the room, so he removed his blazer and folded it across his lap. The sleeves to his cotton button down were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his tattoo. "Its so damn hot in here."

"Self importance makes the air thick." deadpanned Alex.

"Oh, that's a good one." chuckled Adam, crossing his arms.

"Is that a tattoo on your arm?" questioned Alex. Adam nodded. "Cool. What is it?"

"The Eye of Horus. Its an Egyptian God." Adam answered, rolling his sleeves up farther.

"Does it mean anything?"

"Are you a cop or something? You sure ask an assload of questions." Alex just shrugged."It doesn't really have a meaning. I got it to piss off my mother." That was partially true. He just hadn't realised how foolish the whole idea had been. Adam had read in a New Age book that the Eye was supposed to protect him from evil forces. He'd quickly learned that a tattoo couldn't protect him from shit. Not even from himself.

"Is that the only one you have?"

"Nope. I've got a few others." Adam hiked up his other sleep. "Hell Is Other People" was written in cursive on his bicep, and a lightening bolt was on his upper arm.

"So cool. I've always wanted a tattoo...but my Dad says they're tacky," said Alex wistfully. "Do you have any piercing? Other than your ears, I mean?"

"I had a tongue ring, but I was forced to remove it. Before that I had my nipples pierced. But I removed those on my own, because they kept getting snagged in my shirt."

Alex blushed when Adam said "nipples". "Wow...your parents let you do all of that?"

It was hard for your parents to lay down any rules if they were hardly around. When he was eight, Adam's father moved clear across the country. His mother was busy working or screwing guys his own age. "I didn't give a fuck." replied Adam, shrugging again.

"Wow." Alex looked envious. Thier conversation ceased as Mr Lythgoe strode up the podium in the front of the room.

"I'd like to welcome the new students," he began, "I know the transition will be rough for some, but I sincerely hope we can all be a family here at Xavier. And to the rest of you, it is a pleasure having you back." A smile spread across the man's face as he looked down upon the rows of well scrubbed Upper East Side teenagers.

The lecture seemed to go forever. Adam tuned out as the headmaster as he blabbed on about the guidance counselor's extended hours for students who needed help with thier early decision college applications, no smoking on the school premises...blah, blah, fucking blah. He must have fallen asleep, because he woke up to Alex poking him in the side. "What, dude?" he groaned, cracking open on eye.

Alex nodded to the stage. The four eyed kid from Adam's French class was standing beside Lythgoe, a bright, confident smile on his face. "That's Danny Gokey," he informed.

"Okay. Is he your boyfriend?" yawned Adam, sitting up a little straighter.

Alex blushed again. "No! I'm not a fag! No, he like...owns the school. Him and his army of d-bags."

"So...?"

"He's on everything. Class president. Captain of the lacrosse team. Student newspaper. Does all of these charity events and morning announcements. Plus, he's top of the class." Alex went on, frowning. There was more than a hint of jealousy in his tone.

"That's cool? I guess? I'm trying to figure out exactly why I should care?"

"I'm getting there," whispered Alex. "we used to be best friends. Until high school when he...changed completely. After the summer of eight grade, his father was killed. It was all over the news because he was like this bigtime millionaire and a retired supreme court judge. They never found the killer, and ruled it as a burglary gone bad, even though nothing was stolen. There are lots of people who feel like he did it or had something to do with it."

"Sucks for him." Adam knew all too well what it felt like to be wrongfully suspected of a crime. Even if there wasn't sufficient evidence to bring charges against a person, the public wasn't so easily convinced.

"He became such a jerk after that. Everyone thinks he's some good, saintly young man, but really, he couldn't be farther from that. Him and his crew...the Brotherhood, or whatever they call themselves. All of them pretend to be these goody two shoes. One of them, we think their family has ties to the mob."

Adam laughed. "Seriously? I think you've been watching too much of The O.C. or Melrose Place..."

"You know the saying. Sometimes reality is stranger than fiction."

Adam shrugged again. "Whatever." He had enough of his own drama to deal with; he didn't have time to deal with anyone else's.

Finally, the assembly was over. Alex had bolted out of his seat to be first in line to get one of the sapphire blue information packets Lythgoe was handing out. Adam was much less eager. He wasn't interested in running for student council, the Knitting Club (seriously? He couldn't believe something like that existed.) or signing up for volunteer work. After snatching a packet, he ran through the halls and bounded out the doors, emerging into the bright sun.

All around him, students streamed out the red doors. They were either chatting on cell phones or amongst each other about thier plans. It made Adam wonder how he wanted to spend the rest of the afternoon. He could always go home and do his homework. But the thought of returning to his dad's penthouse was depressing. He wasn't up to facing his stepmother, his father or that stepbrat. He preferred to spend as little time as possible in that godforsaken place.

Adam sighed. If he were back in Califronia, he'd be wearing his favourite pair of worn in Diesel jeans, which felt like a second skin, and lounging around with his best friend, Carly Smithson. Here he felt so...stifled. He wondered what Carly was up to. He whipped out his Treo and dialed her number. Aimlessly wandering down Third Avenue, Adam counted six rings before he got an answer.

"Hello?" Carly's voice sounded so warm and familiar.

"Hey, Tater. Its me."

"Oh my God, Adam. How are you?"

Adam sat on the steps of an apartment building. "I just got out of school."

"How was it?"

"Fucking terrible, man. I've got this asshole for an English teacher. Almost everyone who goes there are these stuck up, trust funded WASPs." Adam complained.

"That blows. I'm taking a guess and supposing that you didn't make any friends, huh?"

"Nope. I don't think I really want to, really." Adam reached into his bag and retrieved his pack of Camels. He didn't know if that was entirely true. That girl, Allison...he definitely wouldn't mind befriending her. He had only talked with her briefly, but he didn't get the sense of pretention and shallowness he felt with the other students. Though considering his past experiences, girls should have been the last thing on his mind. Girls proved to be too much trouble. But having someone to hang out with definitely meant less time to spend at home. Alex seemed to be alright, but was too much of a wuss for Adam's liking.

"I'm surprised the girls weren't all over you. Or the boys." giggled Carly.

Adam chuckled. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. Just lounging around Amanda's. I was suppposed to work today, too, but I didn't." said Carly. Amanda Overmyer was Carly's girlfriend, as well as a good friend of Adam's. If he closed his eyes, he could envision Amanda's small East L.A. apartment. It felt more like his home than any place else. He'd crashed on her black leather couch many nights, whenever he would run away from his mother's house for whatever reason.

"Tell Amanda I said hello...and I miss her."

"I will. How's everything going with your father?"

"Nothing has change. I doesn't matter what state I'm in, we're always going to be distant. I'm perfectly fine with that." Adam absently kicked at a rock and watched it skid into the street. It wasn't the fact that his father hadn't tried to work on thier relationship. After all, he was the reason Adam was sitting in some dirty, smelly jail cell. He knew he should have been grateful for that, but it still wasn't enough. It didn't make up for all the years of neglect, of pretending he didn't exist.

Carly stayed quiet for awhile then said simply, "If you say so."

For the first time that day, Adam smiled. Carly only gave her opinion when she felt it was appropriate. She just listened to him, and most of the time, that was all Adam needed. She was the only person he could count on having his back no matter what. She didn't think he was crazy or a lost cause. She understood him. "I love you, Carly."

"Of course you do. I've gotta go, but I swear I'll call you later. Stay out of trouble." Carly blew a kiss into the phone.

"Being good is fucking boring. But I will try." Adam hung up.
********
It was a quarter to midnight when Adam finally stumbled into the cavernous penthouse. He had spent the afternoon exploring Union Square. He'd bought a few comic books from the Forbidden Planet, a quirky novelty store on East 13th Street. Afterward, he went into a small Irish pub near NYU (New York University). The bartended hadn't carded him, so Adam spent the greater part of the evening downing pints of Guinness and fooling around in the dirty women's bathroom with a cute exchange student from Russia.

Drinking on a school night was a bad idea. He still had a ton of homework that needed to be completed, but he couldn't care about that right now. His main concern was getting to bed as quietly and quickly as he could. He was hoping his heavy buzz would at least help him sleep better. Adam threw his bag onto the wide plank hardwood floors of the foyer. It fell with a loud clunk. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath. The rest of the apartment was dark and quiet. He was relieved, because he definitely wasn't in the mood for awkward or forced conversation.

This relief was shortlived though, because someone flipped on the bright track lights. "What the fuck?" exclaimed Adam shielding his eyes. "Shit."

"Language," trilled a woman's voice.

Katharine. Adam rolled his eyes. "Katharine. Its almost midnight. Aren't you supposed to turn back into a witch and jump on your broom back to the brothel?"

A frown crossed his stepmother's face. Katharine, a former runway model, was tall and slender. She had recently cut her shiny, chocolate coloured hair into a trendy bob. Her eyes were a deep, soulful brown. She had quite the body too- full, perky breasts (Adam guessed she was around a size 34DD), a slim waist and round, feminine hips. Her legs were long and turned. She was sexy. Not for the first time, Adam wondered what she was doing with his ancient father. If she was simply after the money, couldn't she find a younger, much more hip millionaire?

"That's no way to speak to me. I am your stepmother." Katharine said, icily.

"You're not even ten years older than me." Adam brushed pass her, and stepped into the expansive kitchen. He yanked open the refridgerator and grabbed the gallon of mineral water. He unscrewed the cap and turned the bottle straight to his mouth. He laughed at Katharine's disgusted expression.

"Did you go to school today?" she questioned.

"Sure did." Adam nodded and leaned against the marble and granite island to keep his balance.

"Have you eaten?" Kat went on.

"Good God, yes. What's it to you anyway?" Adam rolled his eyes.

"You've been drinking."

"Yeah. I have. Then I went and had sex with a girl in the bathroom. It was amazing, in case you're wondering." Adam plastered on a bright smile and once again laughed at his stepmother's expression. It wasn't as if she expected any different of him.

"Your father brought you to New York to change, Adam. Don't waste our time with your bullshit." reprimanded Katharine.

Before answering, Adam took another long swig of water before setting it on the counter. Carefully he stepped closer to his stepmother. She smelled nice, like lavender bath oil. Without thinking, he reached out and touched her shoulder and pulled her closer to him. She was tall, but he still had to look down at the woman. "Listen to me," he whispered, "he's been wasting more time with you and that adopted little fucker you two consider your 'child'. Wasting a little more time with me, his biological son, won't hurt him. How can he even be wasting time when he's never taken any with me? He has eighteen years to catch up on."

"Adam. Step away from me. Right now." murmured Katharine.

"Why? I'm just trying to get closer to you." He twirled a lock of hair around his fingers. It was so silky and nice...

"If you don't get away from me right now, I will tell your father you tried to come on to me. Unless you want to be hauled to jail and become someone's bitch, I suggest you back the hell off right now."

With a smirk, Adam did what he was told. "You know how to threaten a guy. Is that how you got my dad to marry you?"

"Your father married me because we're in love. Let me tell you something, you delinquent. As long as you live under this roof, you will speak to me and Suki with respect. You will not speak to your father in this manner-"

"Respect these." hissed Adam, grabbing his crotch in a vulgar manner before turning on his heel and storming out the kitchen.

Once in his room, he immediately collasped onto his King size smell. The 500 thread count Pratesi sheets smelled fresh and welcoming. What the hell had just come over him? He scrubbed a hand across his forehead. He'd been living under this roof for a few weeks now, and had done his best to avoid Katharine. With good reason, apparently. He regarded the woman as nothing more than an annoyance. Now...well, he was finding himself attracted to her. Perhaps it was the effect of the alcohol, but he seriously doubted it. Adam had a penchant for falling for older women-older women that always brought him problems.

He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. He lit another cigarette. Adam took a long drag, and exhaled a plume of smoke. He watched it swirl around, then vanish. For some reason, this always helped calm him down.

If only his past could disappear so easily.