Bastards and Scapegoats

I’m determined to be happy.”
“Happy?” I asked as he rinsed off his plate in the sink.
“It’s the one thing Jack Beauregard isn’t,” Hamilton answered before turning to face me.
“Jack seems plenty happy,” I countered.
“Seems is the key word, Petal. It’s easy to look one thing and be something completely different.” I nodded, understanding Hamilton but not quite wanting to believe him. “It’s been a long day. Let’s get the pull-out couch set up.”
I nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks.” This conversation was getting heavy.
We made our way to the living room, and Hamilton found some spare sheets and an oversized fuzzy blanket for me to use. I got ready for bed in the spare bathroom and thought over the conversation I’d had with him. I was desperate to figure out the family dynamics. I knew in my gut that their strained relationships started the day his mother died. But why?
Hamilton was setting a glass of water on the coffee table when I made my way back. “I’ll be gone in the morning before you leave. Lock up for me, yeah?”
He started walking away, not even giving me a chance to reply. “Thanks for letting me stay!” I called at him. My only answer was the sound of his slamming bedroom door.
What made Hamilton run so hot and cold?

5
I woke up to the sound of Little Mama whining and an unfamiliar voice chastising her. “Hold on, you needy little brat. You’ve already had three treats today, and if I give you any more, we both know it’ll go straight to your hips. Your metabolism isn’t what it used to be.” I sat up on the couch, my threadbare sleep shirt hanging off my shoulder. I smacked my lips and looked around the dark room, trying to remember where I was.
Hamilton.
“Good. You’re up,” a raspy voice said. I looked over the edge of the couch and was greeted by a beautiful woman. She was wearing a gray tank top and ripped jeans. There was a lip ring in her plump pout, and her dark skin was smooth. She was tall and toned. “Hamilton left already but explained the situation. I’m Jess.”
Hamilton left? I stood up and nervously walked over to her. “Hey. I’m Vera, it’s nice to meet you.” I held out my hand for her to shake, and she simply raised her pierced eyebrow.
Up close, I could see specks of gold in her brown eyes, and a shaved line in her eyebrow. She had a slim gap between her front teeth and smelled like cigarette smoke. “Sorry, hon. Any family of Hamilton’s is an enemy of mine. Feel free to freshen up and see yourself out. Oh. And fuck you.”
My brows shot up. I wasn’t prepared for such anger this early in the morning from a complete stranger, but at the same time, it spoke volumes about her devotion and loyalty to Hamilton. I shrugged. I wasn’t really the type of person to get offended if someone didn’t like me.
“Okay, no problem,” I replied while holding my hands up. “I’ll go get dressed.”
Jess squinted at me as I turned around and made my way to the bathroom. I took a quick, hot shower, not bothering to wash my long hair. After brushing my teeth and putting on deodorant, I got dressed in a pair of high-waisted shorts and a black crop top. When I made my way back to the living room, Jess was sitting on the recliner with a cup of coffee in her hands, looking me up and down with scrutiny.
“How are you and Hamilton related again?” she asked. Oh, so now she wanted to know about me?
I started folding the blankets on the couch. “My mom shotgun married his older brother,” I admitted. The honesty dripping from my tongue felt good. “I met Hamilton at the wedding. Well, meet is a really loose term for our first introduction. I walked in on him fucking the bridesmaid.”
Jess broke out into a smile, showing off her bright teeth. “Classic Hamilton.”
I, too, grinned. Looking back at it, seeing Hamilton fuck a bridesmaid was fitting for our strange dynamic. “It was pretty memorable.” I kept replaying what I saw on loop in my mind. I bit my lip while shoving my pajamas in my duffel bag before checking my phone. Jack had sent a text an hour ago saying he was leaving soon.
“I feel bad for your mom. Joseph is a dick,” Jess said before taking a sip. She was testing the waters with me, I could tell. I knew Jess for all of thirty minutes and could already tell that she wasn’t discreet, she didn’t bury her disdain deep in her chest. She wore her opinions like a badge of honor. It was endearing, and if one of those opinions wasn’t hatred of me, we’d probably be friends.
“I don’t really know him, and I don’t make a habit of judging people I don’t know.” I gave Jess a pointed stare, letting her know with a single look exactly what I thought of her snap judgment of me.
“Fair enough.” Jess seemed soured but still determined. She set her cup down on a side table and crossed her arms over her chest. “Hamilton brought you here, though. I’m trying to decide if it’s because of his tragic guilt that seems to dictate every decision he makes, or if there’s something special about you.”
Tragic guilt? I wanted to know what she meant by that, but I kept my curiosity to myself. “It’s probably neither,” I answered. “Maybe he just was trying to be nice.”
Jess cackled dramatically, her raspy voice wrapping around me like smoke. “Hamilton isn’t nice.”
“He was nice to me,” I admitted.
“Fine. Let’s see if you’re worthy,” Jess said while looking me up and down. “Rapid fire friendship questions. One round. Don’t think, just answer. I like to get to the nitty gritty right off the bat. Favorite alcoholic drink?”
What did this have to do with Hamilton? “Not much of a