"But I just graduated—I can't afford an expensive gift. So let me sing you a song instead. As an apology. Would that be alright?"
Before I could respond, he'd already darted to the karaoke machine.
The next second, an upbeat melody filled the room.
I went rigid.
On the anniversary of my mother's brutal death, he was going to sing me "Good Times"?
Frederick caught my eye and winked.
Winked.
The rage I'd been choking down erupted.
I grabbed the bottle from the coffee table and swung it at his head.
Crack.
Glass shattered. Alcohol sprayed.
Frederick shrieked and dove behind Rosemary.
"Rosemary! Are you okay?" He clutched at her arm, his voice pitched high with theatrical terror. "I didn't mean to—I swear I didn't pick that song! I must have been so nervous seeing Roland that I hit the wrong button—"
Rosemary stepped between us. Blood trickled down from her forehead where a shard had caught her, but the look she leveled at me held nothing but fury.
"Roland, what the hell is wrong with you?" She jabbed a finger at my chest. "He's your half-brother! How could you hit him?"
"With that temper of yours, no wonder Frederick was too scared to think straight."