Loving Chase
by Tania DeMelo
Loving Chase
Tania DeMelo
Copyright © 2020 Tania DeMelo
All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author, and your support and respect are appreciated. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
First Edition
Chapter 1 Dylan
Some would call me entitled. Do you want to know what I say to that—abso-f’ing-lutely. There isn’t a silver spoon that has not fed this mouth, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. I hold my head high with pride and say to those who have a problem with me—move the hell out of my way because I have no issue with running you over.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m not one of those guys who thinks his crap doesn’t stink—okay, that’s a lie; I’m totally that guy. But that aside, I can, and have been known to roll with the less fortunate. I have poor friends, you know, the ones whose parents don’t have the bank to drop a few mill on a property in the right zip code. The same parents that work nine to five jobs while having to answer to someone above them. And what’s their reward for such submissiveness—they’re never able to live their best life.
I mean, it must suck having to work your ass off day in and day out, yet still not have the ability to achieve greatness. But then again, as the saying goes, ‘we can’t all be kings.’
“Is this honestly what you’re thinking about submitting to the article?”
I look to my little brother, his eyes still scanning over my entry for the graduation review. “Yeah, that dowdy but doable brunette said she wanted honest insight into who I am and how my contributions have impacted our community.”
My brother looks to me, his brow arched in cynicism. “Was she aware that your only contributions have been to the local strip club on fourth?”
“Whatever, you little turd. I’ve done a lot for the community. Like just the other day, Jordan and I helped Gamma house with their summer fundraiser.”
Another skeptical look from my brother. “Isn’t that the house full of cheerleaders? And if I’m not mistaken, the so-called fundraiser was actually a kegger that had a cover charge at the door; hardly what I think they were looking for when they asked what contributions you’ve made.” He shakes his head. “Dylan, at this point, you’re so deep in your own world of denial, you may as well just lie and save yourself and those related to you the embarrassment.”
With two large strides, I’m at my desk, pulling my brother’s gangly body from the chair and taking a seat. “I don’t see what’s wrong with this; it’s real.”
“Dylan, how about a little less your reality and more of the other ninety-nine percent of the world's population.”
I turn in my seat. “Now see, that there’s the problem—conformity. Just because you don’t like what I have to say, doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
“Agreed—you’re right. But if it makes others around you feel alienated, then maybe you should filter your opinions and learn to deliver them in more of a positive way; like, oh, I don't know...never.”
Righteous little prick.
He’s always doing this, telling me that I need to tone it down because I intimidate and offend people. I don’t see it. I mean, what kind of person and friend would I be if I went around lying to people when they asked for my opinion? Obviously, they’re asking because they want insight from the top, so it’s my responsibility to give them just that—honest insight.
“If I filtered what I thought, I’d be doing a grave injustice to those who come to me for guidance. I’d be misdirecting them into believing that life’s fair and that we’re all created equally. Little brother, the reality is, our current socioeconomic status is based on a multi-tiered system, and as much as you try to deny and shun the life we’ve been afforded, you’re still right up there on that top shelf with me and the rest of the one percent.”
He shakes his head, almost as though in disbelief. “I don’t understand.”
“Understand what?” I question.
“How someone with your infinite level of intelligence is still so grossly ignorant and oblivious. I don’t know what’s worse; that you believe what your mouth’s spouting, or that the masses of adolescent minds still seem to flock to you to hear it—it’s ridiculous.”
My face splits into a wide grin. “That’s what I’ve been telling you.”
“Dylan, all that tells me is that there’s a serious problem with today’s youth—drones...the lot of them, at least the ones you choose as consorts.”
I ponder that for a moment, knowing full well it should bother me, but it doesn’t. I shut my laptop, pulling it off the desk and tucking it under my arm. “I’m submitting it.”
With a dismissive shrug, my brother looks to me. “You do you, Dylan. As long as you're here to give me a ride to school, I’m good with whatever your hierarchical heart desires.”
I turn, giving him a pointed look. “See, had you just started with that, we wouldn't have wasted all this time on a life lesson and been late for school. Now, get moving, our chariot leaves in two minutes.”
I walk out of my room, letting out a chuckle at the groans and curses behind me as my brother realizes he’s still in his boxers.
“Two minutes, little brother, or you’re walking.”
Okay yeah, maybe I’m
