-- Authors Note --

Hey, guys! Before you say anything I know I should be working on TP, BP, WP and all of my other unfinished stories BUT I just had to write this down before I completely forgot about it. This is a new story (obviously) that I thought of while I was out west this summer. As per my usual, it is AU and OOC, what can I say? The title will make sense, it was originally "Rodeo Cowboy" but I changed it. A summary and all will be provided in the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it! I just thought of the perfect way to start this story, at least I think so. It will be fairly obvious to tell whose POV it is in… well after a bit anyways and don't worry, Amy and co will appear later. That kind of gave it away, didn't it? huh. I'm rotten at keeping secrets anyways, not really. ANYWAYS, past my babbling now, here is the preface type thing of my newest story, "Rodeo Stoner"! I suppose you could say that Ty's a bad boy in it… different from TP Ty. So… have fun Ty lovers!

-Steph

Rodeo Stoner

Preface

Setting—Four years ago, Philadelphia pent house

"Yo, man, pass me some more of that."

I blinked lazily as I watched the small, clear plastic baggie circulate around the room. Jed reached out a hand and took it from Cooper. Jed took a pinch of whatever was in the bag—I couldn't even remember what it was exactly at that point—before passing it off to Mitch and so on.

I observed calmly as the pattern repeated over and over, too many times to count, until it had circulated the spacey room many times over. It didn't alarm me, not in the slightest. Everything was normal, exactly the way in had been for one plus years. I sat sprawled on an expensive leather couch with my feet propped on an equally expensive table in my parent's library. Jed, Cooper, Alex, Mitch, Brian, Sebastian, Brendan and Vince were spread around the room. My father was off doing whatever the hell it was that he did and my mom was off spending money with her "high society friends". My brother, Lee, was playing baseball. He's so stupid, Lee is. He's so dependent on a stupid, fucking sport. But, you see, I'm not so stupid, I'm the smarter of us. I have something more dependent.

The sleeves of my black tee crumpled up and the cool leather of the couch rubbed against the pale skin of my upper arms as I pushed myself into a sitting position. I leant back against the cushions and crossed my legs at the ankles, I hoped that maybe a bit of dirt—or dog shit, I didn't step in it on occasion because I like the smell—would land on the table. If mom or dad saw that they'd likely fire the maid. I laughed lightly just thinking about it.

"What's up, Win?"

Still high on the day's drug of choice and my thoughts of fuming parents, I shook my head to the side to clear the brown hair from my eyes so that I could see who had addressed me. It was Sebastian. My response was a shake of my head. Seb turned back to the blunt he fiddled with in his twitching fingers without another word.

I accepted the bag from Mitch. I looked at it for a second, just as I always did.

"Fuck society," I muttered.

Not many seconds later I felt free. Everyday that passed caused for the growing need of more and more to make myself feel this way but I still managed it. I didn't care about my bastard of a father or my mother that was screwed up from botox, face lifts and plastic surgeries or the fucking, prep, baseball playing sorry excuse I had for a brother. Fuck them all. All they lived for was money. The money my father raked in for sitting around all day in an office yelling at people, firing people and making people do his work for him.

Fuck my "family".

Fuck my father.

Fuck my mother.

Fuck my brother.

Fuck my father's damned business.

Fuck the cursed money.

Fuck the damned house.

Fuck the damned library.

Fuck society.

Fuck everything.

Fuck the stupid visions my mother still foolishly obtains of me in the future. Can she not yet see that I will never be like Lee? Or my father?

Fuck them all.

"Amen to that, brother." It was Cooper who spoke this time. He raised the crystal glass that held a healthy portion of some of the expensive and ageless vodka that my father stored in the winery in my direction.

My father was a fool. Did he not think that I couldn't pick locks? Everyone thought me to be stupid. But boy were they wrong. They couldn't be more wrong even if they put their puny, little brains to the task.

I rose the glass I held in my hands in a likewise motion before taking a sip. The cool liquid was strong and left a burning trail as it slid down my throat. But it left a warm trail all the way down.

We were all the sons of rich families. We all hated it. We were all "stoners" but who the hell cares?

See, I told you I wasn't stupid like that little snot, Lee. I don't depend on something stupid to make me feel good. Baseball… what the hell is the point? Who cares who can hit the ball the farthest or make the best catch with the aid of a larger hand or run around a diamond the fastest? It's pointless and unreliable. What I have, however, is always there and has no plans of going anywhere in the near future. It will always be there to make me feel good. Even if it's not as good as it was years earlier it still achieved the desired affect every time.

I downed the rest of the glass in one gulp.

The last swallow went down in a happy trail in honor of my dimwitted parents. Everyday we did this, every fucking day, right in their own house, right in their beloved library. Every fucked up day. Rarely did we miss a day. And they had no idea. Stupid assholes.

In the great scheme of my life and the highs I've had, I should have rightfully heard it. It was mere stupidity that ruined it. All I knew was that one moment I was staring blankly out of the large window on the far side of the room and the next there was a pounding coming up the stairs and down the hallway, right towards the library. The noise barely even registered in my head and even on the off chance that it had fully registered and been processed I would never have reacted in time.

The door to the library swung open and in the reflection in the window glass I saw Lee standing there, wearing that stupid baseball uniform. All of my friends turned slowly to face the door, each one, perhaps, comprehending the situation at hand many times faster then I did.

"Ty, mom and dad wan…" Lee never finished what he had been trying to say. He trailed off as he looked around the room, taking it all in very slowly. He looked momentarily shocked at first but then a large smirk spread across his foggy face in the mirror. "Oh you are so busted this time, Ty," he said gleefully.

My friends all deserted the room then, each one of them taking with them whatever they held in their hands.

I was left alone in the big library with my brother. I had yet to turn and face him or even shift my position on the couch.

"MOM! DAD!" Lee yelled down the hallway at the top of his lungs. I watched as the distorted reflection of Lee turned its head back to look at me, an expression that I could only make as incredulousness spread across his face as he watched what he could see of the back of my head. He expected me to jump to my own defense, to have some reaction to what was happening… I just sat there.

I heard mom's heels clicking on the wooden floor accompanied by the heavier thud of dad's work loafers. They were getting closer… and closer.

Click Click Click Click… Thud Thud Thud Thud… Click Click Thud Thud… Click Thud Click Thud

Still I did not move an inch. I should have made some effort to save my ass but I didn't. I didn't even care that the inevitable parent and son war was about to take place right in that pish and posh library. My face remained blank and impassive, besides for the almost permanent smirk on my lips and a glint of something in my eyes I was emotionless.

I awaited my parents' entrance with greed.

It was not as though they could banish me from the house and disown me from the family. No, that would make my mother look bad among her "friends". Her and my father would be the prime candidates in the cities gossip… and not in the good adoring way that they liked. I could just see it now… the though made me giddy. What I would not give for my parents to be seen how they really were.

"Lee?" My mother's voice floated down the hallway as she neared the library. Her voice was laced with worry or Lee… the younger son, the perfect son. "Is something wrong? Are you okay?" She was nearer.

"I'm fine," Lee said back in a normal voice, they were almost there. His reflection peeked back at me. I twiddled my fingers against the cool crystal of the empty glass I held. My short nails clicked against the hard surface. I hoped it scratched… not likely. "But I don't think Ty is."

"What?" There was a little alarm in her voice. "Is he hurt? What happened?" The clicking got faster and thuds followed melodically.

"He's not… hurt," Lee said. I loved how they talked about me as though I was not there. "But after you see what he's done this time he might not be so fine." The reflection of Lee that I was watching flashed me a smile and I wondered if he did not know that I was watching him.

"What do you mean?" Perhaps my idiotic mother missed the stampede that clearly passed her. Stupid bitch. Just a few more steps and she'd be here. "Is he… oh dear." Ah, finally here. A hand flew to cover the reflection of her face.

Still I did not move.

"What is all this about?" My father's deep, obnoxious voice resounded through the room. Never could talk with that indoor voice, fucking bastard. He stopped in the doorway next to my mother and silently surveyed the room.

Still I did not move.

I made no move to defend myself or confront my parents. I just sat there on that damned leather couch that cost enough to feed a small country with my feet on the table that could give said country dessert. I tossed the crystal glass lightly between my hands. I waited for them.

Lee was besides himself with giddiness, bouncing on his toes, hands clasped behind his back, his mouth in a tight, thin line, obviously trying to hide his enjoyment. Fucking little bastard. Perfect fucking replica of my father he is,

I think my father understood what had happened before my mother. He walked farther into the room and walked around the couch. I looked outside the window that was so far away and ignored him.

"Would you care to explain yourself, Tyler?" His voice was filled with suppressed furry.

"Not particularly." I could match my father's furry and would if the need called for it. But right then I couldn't have been bothered. My head was still light from everything I had consumed that afternoon. I wouldn't quite classify myself as high; it was more of a happy in-between. It was an almost crucial factor for every time I dealt with my parents.

I heard my father walk to the side of the room. His damned shoes thumped more muffled on the heavily carpeted floor in the library. He stopped after about seven steps. The suit jacket he wore rustled and I assumed he picked something up. I kept my eyes on the window. I could not see my father; he was just out of my view. I could, however, see my mother who was just standing there, presumably staring at my father and gaping like a fish. Lee I could see as clear as day, that sick grin twisted across his face.

When my father spoke again his voice was tight and strained. "Can you, Tyler, explain what this is?" I didn't look at him. "God damn it, boy!" He roared, finally snapping. "Look at me when I am speaking to you!"

I turned my head very slowly so that I faced him. His face was visibly turning a slight shade of maroon; it started on his neck and went to the tip of his forehead. He was holding something up, just as I had thought. I let my eyes travel excruciatingly slow to his outstretched hand. Ah, there it was. He was gripping the vodka bottle by the neck.

"It looks to me like a bottle of an alcoholic beverage," I replied slowly. My voice maintained exactly the volume and feel that I had worked so hard to perfect.

"What alcoholic beverage? There is no alcoholic beverage in this bottle anymore!" He shook the bottle around for affect and all his efforts received was a slight sloshing of the smallest bit of liquid that had been left in the bottle. "You went into my stocks and you stole it! Do you have any idea the agelessness or priceless-ness of this drink?" He was livid, I was giddy.

"I'm guessing it was very old and very expensive," I guessed.

"You're damn right it was!" Dad thundered. His deep voice echoed around the room. Mom turned white, even Lee stopped his bouncing to look slightly scared. "And now it's gone," he snarled, "because an idiotic teenager decided to try and get drunk from it."

"Oh shove of it, dad. Just buy yourself another bottle of the damned liquor," I suggested.

Dad was fuming. "Just answer me one question: was it good?"

I shrugged. "I've had better."

"I'll be damned if you have! And that wasn't all you were doing in here now, was it?" He squinted his eyes and peered around the room. "Pot," he said simply, turning his harsh glare back on me.

"Mmm?"

"This room smells like a bloody crack house!" Dad yelled.

"And I suppose you'd know just how a crack house smells."

"Don't be peachy with you father, Tyler Baldwin. You are in no place for that right now," Mom beat dad to the line. I sighed and leant back against the cushions.

"Lee, leave," dad ordered Lee.

"But I—" Lee tried to allow himself to stay.

"LEAVE!" Dad bellowed. Lee scampered from the room without another word. The kid had no backbone.

Mom walked over to stand besides dad. Her heels made no sound on the carpeted floor. She looked at me sadly; the madness was clear through her eyes though. It was just a matter of time before she started off on her own rant.

"Anything else?" I asked idly, exaggeratingly twiddling my thumbs.

"Do not think you are off the hook that easily, Mister," mom warned me with a wag of a long, skinny, manicured finger in my direction. "Neither I nor your father are that naïve, Tyler," she warned me. "Don't think that we haven't known what you've been doing," now she looked on the verge of tears. I failed to feel any sympathy.

"Did you?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "We've caught you on several other instances and so have others. We are not blind."

"Well you certainly missed out on the fact that it was going on right in your own home," I could not conceal the laughter that bubbled within me any longer.

"That's it!" Mom snapped in fury. She expected me to stop laughing but I did the opposite. "I'm finished, Tyler Baldwin! You've pushed me too far this time!" I laughed on. I couldn't stop. My mom continued her rant. They both tried to ignore my laughter. "What haven't I done for you?" she demanded to know. I, needless to say, did not answer. "Your father works hard so that we may provide you and your brother with a good life…"

I laughed harder. "Yeah, it takes real skill to sit around and yell at people all day."

"You will never speak of your father in suck disrespect ever again! Do you hear me!" Mom looked close to hyperventilating by that point yet she still ranted on. "Your father and I have done nothing but good for you! We've bought you nice clothes but you insist on wearing that… that… that… that whatever you have on," she was so furious and gesturing so madly with her hands that she had trouble finding the words she wanted. "I've offered to take you to the best stylist in the city to do something about that hair of yours but you've always declined and are adamant on keeping it that horrid length. If you knew the talk we've heard about the way you dress and your hair. 'Typical stoner look' they say. Your father and I have always stood up for you," she said, "but apparently we were in the wrong doing that too!"

"Breathe, Bell, breathe," dad said softly to mom and rubbed her back soothingly. He still managed to keep that glare going in my direction though.

After a few moments mom decided she felt well enough to carry on. "Your father and I pulled strings and used all of our connections to get you into The Academy, we thought that it would do you a world of good to be around different kids. But what do you do to repay us for our troubles? You are nothing but rude to the staff and students, some of which, may I add, have family in very high positions in this city. And then instead of making friends with the polite children you have to go and befriend the schools… the schools… the druggies, the stoners, the bad kids, whatever you want to call it. You have yet to put even one ounce of effort into your studies. We try to introduce you to nice young ladies from good families and all you do is sneer and pay her no attention.

"But do you know what, Tyler Baldwin? I've had it up to here," she raised her hand as high over her head as she was able to prove her point, "with you. I've tried to be patient, to see if you'd grow out of it. You've pushed me too far now," she warned me. "Obviously life in the city is clearly not what is good for you." She stopped there and looked at dad, obviously wanting him to continue for her.

"The last time you were caught with pot," dad began sternly, "your Aunt Kara offered to have you come to her ranch in Wyoming. She's put you to work with the horses and help her with whatever she and Uncle Rick needed. You'd help with the guests that stayed there. If that offer is still open then I think that that would be exactly what you need."

All I did was laugh harder still. I didn't take them seriously, I just laughed.

a/n: So, how'd you like it? I had to write it down before I completely forgot about it. It will get better though. And don't worry; Ty won't always be so stupid. Anyways, I know I have a lot to catch up with but WP and TP will both be updated this week and soon I'm start BP for real. Thanks for reading and review!

-Steph