Dirty Sheets (Sheets Trilogy: Book One)

04 | Answers

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04. answers

"Well, maybe if you weren't such an asshole, people would actually like you." My best friend, Tripp Malice lifted his glass towards me.

Why am I friends with him again?

Oh right, his yacht.

It's some hybrid motor yacht from Europe called the Savannah.

"Hilarious," I rolled my eyes as I lifted my empty glass up into the air, signaling to the bartender that I needed a refill. "Could it be true to you that I actually might have a big problem on my hands."

"Problem?!" He popped up from his lounging chair, half of the whiskey in his glass spilling onto the deck's floor.

"Look at where we are!" He opened his arms up, gesturing towards the private island he owned. "We're on the water, in the middle of the ocean. No responsibilities, no commitments. Just us and the ocean. You know how lucky we are?!"

I didn't say anything, I just brought my refilled glass towards my lips and took a sip. I allowed the alcohol to slowly burn my throat as I began to think.

See, Tripp might like this atmosphere, but not me. I can't vacation constantly as he can. I need structure and organization in my life.

The only reason why I'm out here with him, in the first place, is the avoid my father and my bitchy sister, Altas, but I won't let him know that.

"Hmm," I muttered as Tripp looked down at the mess he made and cursed.

"Welp, I'mma go get one of the staff to come to clean this mess up," he shrugged his shoulders before placing his cup down and standing up, stretching out his lean, skinny body.

He shook out his sand-covered brown hair before jabbing a finger my way. "Think 'bout what I said, okay? Maybe... this is for the best."

He soon ran off and I groaned.

What the hell am I doing here?

I pulled my phone out from my swim shorts and called the first person I could think of. 

"Hey, can you get the jet ready? I'm coming home."

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"Thanks, Gwyn," I glanced over towards my sister's best friend, Gwyn Rufer, as she drove the car.

"No problem, it's not like you woke me up at 1 am, asking for a ride." She snapped at me as she flexed her hands before grabbing the wheel again.

Her brown hair was kept in a messy ponytail and you could see the remains of a blue face mask still on the sides of her face.

I laughed to myself as I remember the past nine hours. 

After calling my butler, Adam, for the jet. I made some fake-ass excuse about having a "stomach bug" to Tripp, which he believed, and then I hoped my ass on the plane and got the hell out of Greece.

Taking a cab could get me on the front cover of any magazine, and calling Adam to pick me up, would only lead to my father into knowing where I am and I'd hate for that to happen. So, I called the person who I knew could keep a secret.

I flashed my brightest, camera-worthy smirk at Gwyn.

How the fuck was this amazing person best friends with my shit of a sister. I'll never know.

"Don't, Keegan. I swear, I could kill you right now. You know how fucking crazy you are?" Her fingers clenched around the wheel.

"Calm down. I didn't do anything spectacular or any shit along those lines." I grumbled under my breath and rubbed my eyes.

Shit. Jet-lagged.

She sighed, her attention turning towards me before she brought it back onto the road. "Mr. Beauguard's pissed, he saw that you weren't at work for five days straight."

I huffed before closing my eyes, "don't remind me."

Gwyn's voice slowly began to drown out as I fell into a deep slumber.

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I paced around my office, my fist clinched to my sides, as I began to think of a plan.

2 days left.

Fuck.

I rubbed at the nape of my neck before running my hands through my hair.

Maybe I could convince Father to give me another chance, but that would mean begging and I'd rather fucking die.

I pitched the bridge of my nose.

God.

As I began to contemplate about calling Tripp and asking him about his vacation life, a knock appeared at my door.

I began straightening my clothes and fixing my hair as I moved towards my desk.

"Come in."

My assistant walked into the room and laid out my schedule for me.

"You're 12 pm set-up meeting is outside waiting. Should I let her in?"

I nodded, my head filling with all different kinds of answers to my problem.

"Yes, Mr. Beauguard." She nodded swiftly before exiting the room just as fast as she appeared.

A few seconds passed before a click of heels made their way towards the door and it opened.

I focused on the papers in front of me, before looking up.

Standing tall with chocolate-toned skin was a woman in a black, feminine suit. Her eyes blazed with determination as her dark brown - almost black - hair beautifully framed her face.

Who is this?

Almost as if I had asked my question out loud, she said.

"Hello, my name is Sutton Olivers and I'm here to help you with your problem."

On second thought, never mind.

I don't want to know her.

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[a/n]

I hope you liked Chapter 4 of Dirty Sheets.

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