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“Speaking of your bride, she’s pretty hard on Kota. Any idea why?”

“She is, isn’t she?” Singling out a key on his keyring, he digs it into his ear, his entire face pulling to that side when he goes too deep.

“Rich people definitely don’t do that,” I inform him.

“What do rich people use to clean their ears?”

“Cotton swabs.” Disbelief replaces his twisted features. “Didn’t you notice every bathroom in this palace has a jar filled with them?”

My dad waves me off.

I don’t think he noticed. I would say it’s because he hasn’t been here much, but I know that’s not it.

“Maybe that can be your angle with your new sister.”

“Stepsister. And cotton swabs?”

“No. Her momzilla. You can be the shoulder for her to cry on when Sera’s too hard on her.”

“That’s…” I shake my head. “I told you I’ll figure something out.”

“You know what happens if you don’t.”

The vibe in the oversized laundry room plummets, so swallowing my fucking pride, I say, “On it, Coochie Monster.”

It takes a moment for the gloom to clear, then Dad’s gripping the back of my neck, walking us out as he releases a throaty chuckle. It feels good to joke with him again. Nothing’s been very funny lately, but this move is supposed to change that. It’s supposed to change everything.

Here it is Sunday and we’re sitting through another “family” dinner, this one without the formalwear. We’re also missing Mullet Douche.

“I’m surprised Guy isn’t by your side,” I remark as innocently as possible, earning invisible daggers launched my way from across the table. After being up Kota’s ass for the last few days while my dad and Sera were out of town, Guy just left a matter of hours ago.

It seems Stepsis can’t be alone for very long.

I’m just glad I haven’t heard them fucking.

A fact I’d be happier about if it was because they weren’t fucking at all.

It’s probably more to do with schedules though. They are very different. And Guy is…a guy. He’s probably tapping that on the daily. I don’t see why he wouldn’t be. I would.

My dad jumps all over the topic, asking, “Did you two break up?”

I nudge the side of his shoe with mine under the table. Don’t be so fucking obvious.

“No. Uh, no. We’re fine. He’s just busy.”

After a tight smile, Kota takes a dainty bite of greens.

Even without caterers tonight, the food was still brought in from an upscale restaurant. The meal consists of quartered chicken, mashed potatoes, and spinach. It’s good and probably wouldn’t take much to throw together, but the Rhodes women don’t do that sort of thing. Their freezers are full of prepared meal kits, both from the store and restaurants, so I’m assuming that’s what they eat normally. In New York, I used to cook for us but now I only do it for myself. As for my dad…well, he has Sera. No food necessary for the Coochie Monster.

As much as I hate that nickname, I do envy his diet. It’s been a while since pussy’s been in my rotation. Kota’s barely counts. That lick of my hand was nothing compared to what I’d do if I got my mouth on the real thing. My father’s not the only cuntoisseur and I’m starting to feel the effects of deprivation. It doesn’t help sharing a house with a hot blonde constantly strutting around in tiny clothes I want to peel off with my teeth.

Something presses down on my foot.

I tear my gaze off Kota to find my dad looking at me, mouthing something.

My top lip hitches.

Fine he mouths again.