by Bromberg, K.
“Rylee! Heard we got a good article from the LA Times. Great job!”
“You’re breaking up on me, Teddy.” The phone line crackles.
“I need to talk to you—” The call drops and the line goes dead.
I wait a second for my phone to ring again and when it doesn’t, I go back to looking at the budgetary numbers I was working on before Dane interrupted. After a few minutes, my cell rings again.
“Hello?”
“Rylee Thomas, please,” a monotone male voice says over the phone.
“This is she.”
“Hi, Ms. Thomas, this is Abel Baldwin.”
Oh, crap! What boy is it this time? “Good afternoon, Principal Baldwin. What can I do for you today?”
“Well, it seems to me that Aiden can’t seem to keep his hands to himself lately. He was in yet another fight last period, Ms. Thomas.” Disdain fills his voice at having to deal with this again.
This is Aiden’s third fight in as many months that has been caught by school authorities. I have a feeling that there have actually been a couple more that have gone unnoticed as well. Oh, Aiden. “What happened?”
“Not quite sure. He won’t really talk with me about it.” And I really don’t think you care, either.
“What about the other kid?” A question that I ask every time and always get a less than satisfactory answer to.
“They said it was a simple misunderstanding.”
“They?” There’s more than one? “I hope that they are in your office as well, Mr. Baldwin.”
He clears his throat. “Not exactly. They are in class and—”
“What?” I shout at him, perplexed by his obvious bias.
“And I think it’s better if you come and pick up Aiden—”
“He’s suspended?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“No, he’s not.” I can hear the irritation in his voice at having me question him. “If you’d let me finish Ms. Thomas—”
“He’s not suspended, but you want me to come get him while the other boys get to stay in class?” My rising frustration is more than evident in my voice. “Surely you can understand why I’m upset at what seems to be favoritism here.”
He stays quiet for a moment as I gather up my things as best as possible with one hand so I can go pick him up. “Ms. Thomas, your accusation is unfounded and serves no purpose here. Now I would appreciate if you could come collect Aiden so we can let the two parties simmer down. This in no way indicates that Aiden is at fault in this matter. In addition, Aiden has blood on his clothing and seeing as it’s against school policy for him to walk around with it there, I think it’s in the school’s best interest to send him home for the afternoon.”
I sigh loudly, biting my tongue from telling this less-than-stellar principal exactly what I think of him. “I’ll be right there.”
Aiden is silent all the way home from school. My shift at The House doesn’t start for another three hours, but I think that Aiden and I need to have a little alone time to talk about what happened. I haven’t pushed him to tell me, but I need to know. Is he being bullied? Is he looking for attention that he’s not getting? Is he releasing frustration from his past? I need to know so that I can figure out how to help.
Before we walk into the house, I motion for him to sit down on the front porch step next to me. He rolls his eyes but obeys. He stares at me as I take in the swollen lip with dried blood at the corner, the dark red mark on his right cheek and the start of bruising on the left eye. His cheeks flush deeply under my scrutiny.
“I know you don’t want to talk about it, buddy, but you have to tell me what happened.” I reach out and grab his hand while he lowers his head and watches an ant crawl slowly on the step beneath us. We sit in silence, and I allow it for a bit but finally squeeze his hand, letting him know he needs to talk.
“They were just being jerks,” he grumbles.
“Who started it, Aiden?” When he doesn’t respond, I prompt again. “Aiden? Who threw the first punch?”
“I did.” His voice is so soft, so sad with shame that it breaks my heart. I see a fat tear slide down his swollen cheek, and I know that something is off.
“Talk to me, Aiden. Who was it and what did they do to make you want to hit them?”
He reaches up to dash away the fallen tear with the back of his hand and leaves a smear of dirt in its path. “They called me a liar,” he mumbles, his bottom lip quivering. “Ashton Smitty and Grant Montgomery.”
Little punks! The know-it-all, privileged, popular kids from his grade whose parents never seem to be around. I wrap my arm around his shoulder and pull him to my side, kissing the top of his head. “What did they say you were lying about?”
His voice is barely audible. “They told me I lied about going to the track on Sunday. That I didn’t really meet Colton or know him …”
My heart squeezes. He was so excited to go to school and tell all his friends about his experience. So excited to be cool for once and have something that the other kids didn’t. I sigh loudly, squeezing him again. I want to tell him that the little punks deserved it and that he did the right thing, but that’s obviously not the most responsible way to react. “Oh, Aiden … I’m sorry, buddy. Sorry they didn’t believe you. Sorry they pushed you … but Aiden, fighting somebody with your fists is not the way to solve things. It only ends up making it worse.”
He reluctantly nods his head. “I know, but—”
“Aiden,” I scold sternly, “there are no buts here … you can’t use your fists to fix problems.”
“I know, but I tried to tell Ms. McAdams when they started pushing and shoving and she wouldn’t listen.”
I can see another tear threaten to fall from his thick lashes. “Well then, I’m going to make an appointment to speak with her and Baldwin about this.” His head whips up and his eyes open widely in fear. “I’m not going to make it worse, Aiden. I’m just going to ask them to keep their eyes open a little more. To make sure that they do not let this happen again. And I’ll make sure that the other kids don’t know.”
He nods his head, releasing a noncommittal grunt. “Am I in trouble?” He looks up at me with fear in eyes.
I wrap both my arms around him and squeeze his little body that’s known so much hurt and abandonment. I hold him to me, trying to reassure him and let him know that it’s okay. That getting in trouble doesn’t mean a severe beating and food withheld for days. “Yeah, bud, you are … but I think that icky feeling you have might just be the worst of it.” I feel his shoulders sag in relief as a plan forms in my head.
“I knew you couldn’t stay away from me for long.” Colton’s voice fills the other end of the telephone line, arrogance redefined. His sexy voice alone makes my pulse race, but I have to put how I feel aside as I put my plan to help restore Aiden’s self-confidence at school into motion.
“I’m not calling for me, Ace.”
“Ooooh, I love it when you’re all business and straight to the point. It’s such a turn on, Ryles.”
“Whatever!” I say, but I can’t help the slow smile that creeps over my face.
“No, seriously, what’s up, sweetheart?”
Why do I love when he calls me that? Why does it make me feel like I’m special to him?
“It’s Aiden,” I tell him filling in the details as he listens attentively, despite the voices I hear in the background. “Is it possible that I can get some kind of signed picture of you or something he can bring to school tomorrow to prove that he’s met you and actually was there on Sunday?”
Colton laughs loudly, and I’m confused by his reaction. “That’s only going to get his teeth knocked in, Rylee. That’s something only a geek would do … those brats would eat him alive.”
“Oh … um … I had no idea.”
“You wouldn’t.” Colton chuckles, slightly offending me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“And please don’t go have a conference with the teacher or princi
pal,” he groans. “Inevitably someone will see you and then it will only make things harder for Aiden.”
“I wasn’t—”
“Oh yes, you were,” he kids, and I’m shocked he has me pegged so well. “I just know you were one of those preppy kids who had their homework done before it was due, helped the teacher in class, and was part of the ‘in’ crowd. No offense, Rylee, but you have no idea what it is to be a misfit on the verge of puberty who gets the crap beat out of him just because.”
I’m flustered that he has such a good read on me, but more than that, his words about understanding the misfit crowd gives me more insight to him as a child. When I don’t respond, he laughs again. “You were like that, weren’t you?”
“Maybe,” I answer slowly, heat flushing my cheeks.
“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Rylee … it’s just different for kids like Aiden.”
And like you were. “What do you suggest I do then, since I obviously don’t understand?” I try to hide the hurt in my voice.
“Are you on shift there tomorrow?”
“Yeah … what does that have to do with anything?” When he remains silent, I prompt him. “Colton?”
“Give me a second to think,” he snips at me and I blanch at his tone. I hear someone call his name in the background. Of course it’s a female. “What time do you leave for school in the morning?”
“At eight. Why?”
“I’m tied up right now,” he says innocently, but my mind drifts to braided velvet ropes and cold counters. I jolt my mind from my thoughts, chastising myself. “Okay. I’ll have something for him at The House before you leave.”
“What are you—”
“Relax, control freak.” He sighs, “I have something in mind. I just have to move some things around to make it happen.”
“Oh, but—” I protest, wanting to know what he’s bringing.
“Rylee,” he interrupts, “this is the part where you let someone else handle the details. All you have to say is ‘Thank you, Colton. I owe you one,’ and hang up.”
I pause momentarily, knowing he is right but wanting to know anyway. “Thank you, Colton,” I comply.
“And?” he prompts.
I remain silent for a few moments. I can almost hear his smirk. “And I owe you one.”
“And you can bet I’ll collect on it.” His seductive laugh fills the phone until I hear the dial tone on the other end.
I REV THE ASTON. HER purr reverberates against the concrete walls in front of me and echoes through the early morning over the collective chatter that fills the air. If the boys only knew how many times as a kid I dealt with this shit. Fucking know-it-all punks who picked on me because I was that “pity-case” the Westins took in—what most assumed was an attempt to keep their holier than thou public persona up.
Yeah right. If those fuckers only knew the hell my parents had saved me from. A bully’s fists and words were nothing compared to what I’d already lived through.
Sticks and stones. Sticks and stones.
Even if I didn’t look in the rearview mirror at the boys and their grins in the backseat, I’d know they were smiling from the unmistakable energy zinging in the car. They’ll get their due. I’ll make sure of it.
I rev the car again, and I can see Ry tense beside me as she prevents herself from telling me I’m breaking the rules. Rule follower and rule breaker. Opposites must really fucking attract. Huh? If she only knew how opposite we really were.
God I would love to tear into this parking lot and lay some rubber. Give the boys a real entrance that would leave the rest of the students talking for months. It takes all of my restraint not to. Instead, I slide the Aston in between the curb and the waiting line of suburbanite moms in their SUVs or minivans and their judgmental attitudes.
Time to make an entrance, boys. Time to turn the tables, give them some positive attention for once, and put those fucking bullies to shame.
I park askew up onto the dip in the sidewalk, angling the car on purpose so that the boys can make their grand entrance. I rev the motor a few more times for good measure before opening my door and climbing out of the car. I take a quick look and notice a few of the moms in their sweatpants look my way. They stop, angling sunglasses down to see if I’m who they really think I am.
Damn straight, ladies. In the fucking flesh.
I stretch my arms above my head, taking my time and groaning aloud for good measure as I watch mouths fall lax and hands fly immediately to smooth down their unruly morning ponytails. I walk around the front of the car and stifle a laugh as I notice the shuffling through purses and sudden appearance of lipstick tubes. Fucking pretentious women.
Like I’d go for you when I have her in my front seat. Are you fucking kidding me? Plastic, botox, and ditz or real, intelligent, and sexy as fuck? A few weeks ago the decision may have been different, but now—since Rylee—there isn’t one to be made.
Call me crazy.
Or pussy whipped.
I open the door for Rylee. My eyes instinctively scrape over her body and recall perfectly the feel of those curves beneath mine. She smirks at me—humor and curiosity mixed in her eyes—as she wonders how the reckless, quick to throw a punch Colton Donavan is going to handle these grade school punks.
I can’t help the smile on my face as I squat down and flip the seat forward. The looks on Scooter, Aiden, and Ricky’s faces are fucking priceless. I help them from the car and place my arms on their shoulders, the whisper of my name zipping through the crowd at my back.
That’s right. They’re with me, folks. No fucking with them any more.
I lean over to Aiden, the look of shock and fear and pride on his face makes me want to grab him and hug him. Tell him that no matter who you are or where you come from, there’s always someone who’ll stand up for you. “Do you see the bullies, buddy?”
His bruised little face looks around the crowd, and I know the minute he sees the punks. His body stiffens and fear or shame flickers momentarily through his eyes. For that look on his face alone, the fuckers should be suspended. I look to where he’s staring and know instantly who my targets are. Seriously? I’m transported back twenty years in time and the fuckers could be interchangeable with those that tormented my years of school.
“Well, champ, it’s time to go prove a point.”
I urge the boys forward with my hands as I stand in the middle of the three of them, purposely moving as a solid unit. Mess with one of us, you get all of us. I can sense Ry’s apprehension as to how I’m going to handle this, but she really needs to give me more fucking credit.
I plaster an easy going grin to my face as we approach the boys. Gonna kill them with fucking kindness. “Hey, guys!” I say in greeting as the boys’ eyes widen like saucers and the shit-eating grins fade from their lips. “Hey, Aid, are these the boys that didn’t believe you were my buddy?”
“Yeah,” he croaks and looks up at me. And if I already didn’t love this fucking kid, the look on his face makes me love him even more now. Eyes startled. Freckles scrunching. Lips turning up at the corners in a disbelieving smile. Yeah, buddy, you’re more than worth sticking up for. It’s time to start believing it.
“Oh man!” I say turning back to dumb and dumber. “You should’ve seen Aiden on Sunday. I let him bring six of his friends, including Ricky and Scooter here…” I squeeze their shoulders to let them know they’re just as worthy “…with him to the track to test out the car, and boy were they the biggest help to me! We had so much fun!”
I can feel all three boys stand a little taller and I know that a bit of confidence has been restored in their damaged souls. They’ve still got a long way to go, but it’s a start.
“Too bad you guys aren’t friends of his or maybe you could have gone too!” It takes everything I have to not tell dumber to close his mouth because he’s going to catch a fly if he keeps looking at me like that. Then again, it serves him right for picking on the weak. No, not weak—after everyt
hing these kids have been through, definitely not weak. More like damaged. Yeah damaged but hopefully repairable.
Unlike me.
The school bell buzzes and it’s only now I realize the crowd around us. I’ve been too busy restoring the boys’ dignity to notice. And honestly, fuck if I care. I note the bystanders’ eyes flicker over my shoulder, and I have a feeling the dipshit authority is near. I don’t even have to check because I know the look he’ll have on his face already. It’s embedded in my memory from too many trips myself. I guess pissing off principals is one thing I’ll never stop doing whether I’m thirteen or thirty.
It’s time to make sure the crowd understands where I stand in regards to the boys. I ratchet my smile up a notch and wink at the bullies. “Bye, boys! Make sure you say ‘hi’ to my man Aiden here when you see him in class!”
They just continue to stare at me as The Suit uses his hands to physically guide them toward the front doors of the school. He then turns back to Aiden, Ricky, and Scooter. “Boys, you too,” he says in a monotone that makes me think of the teacher in Ferris Bueller.
I glance over at Rylee for the first time during this whole display, and I can see her fighting back a smirk. She just subtly nods her head at me when I ask her with my eyes if this is the prick taking sides. It takes everything I have to keep my temper reined in this time because the boys are still attached to my sides. Fucking judgmental asshole.
My smile is so fake it kills me. “One moment please, sir. I just need to say bye to my boys.” I go to face the boys but I can’t. I have to say something right here, right now. For the little boy in me always doubted and deemed at fault, for the hundreds of others like me, and for the boys beside me living it in the present.
I hang my head for a moment to make sure that my composure is nothing less than respectful. And that in itself is a fucking feat. “Next time, sir, it’d be best to remember that Aiden is telling the truth. It’s the bullies that need to be sent home, not good kids like Aiden here. He may not be perfect, but just because he doesn’t come from a traditional home, doesn’t mean that he’s at fault.” I stare at him, holding those flustered eyes of his as he listens—not just hears but listens—to the words I’ve said. When I see them register, I do the only disrespectful thing that I can and turn my back on him, dismissing him without further comment.