by K. Bromberg
“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 principal,” 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 di
dn’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 everything 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.
My smile changes from tight to genuine when I look at the three pairs of eyes looking up at me. It’s one thing to stick up for them with bullies that are the same age, it’s another thing when it’s done to an adult. I understand that more than anyone.
“I don’t think they’ll be bugging you anymore, Aiden.” I reach out and when I see his eyes accept my intention, ruffle his hair. “In fact, I don’t think anyone will be bugging you guys anymore. If so, you let me know, okay?” All three boys nod like bobble-head dolls, their minds and egos trying to comprehend what’s just happened.
“Time to get to class,” Ry tells them as she steps up beside me to watch them walk toward the doors, heads held high and pride in their posture. They reach the door, looking the principal in the eye and that alone fills me with a sense of right. Ricky and Scooter disappear through the door, but Aiden stops.
I immediately worry that he fears entering the school—years of belittling not fixable with one appearance by a guy like me—but when he looks up, his eyes meet mine and I see awe, clear as day. “Thanks, Colton.” I can’t help the feeling that twists within me. Two simple words but the way he says them implies so much more.
Rylee glances over at me as we walk back to the car. Pride is brimming in her eyes, and I swear to God something shifts and twists inside of me. A fucking foreign feeling. But fuck if I don’t want her to look at me like that again.
I get the boys understanding why I did what I did. But Rylee? She’s got to be assuming things that I’d rather remain hidden. She’s got to wonder what exactly it is that burns so deep within me that I still fear it every minute of every day. Even twenty-two years later.
Too bad she wasn’t around to save me way back then.
The question is, can she save me now?
“Why did you agree to come here if you don’t like coffee?” That in itself says volumes to me.
She denied me at the track even though her body said otherwise. I got a ration of shit from the guys for her being there too. They’re not used to a woman walking away when I ask her to stay. They thought it was the funniest fucking thing on the face of the earth, Rylee denying me.
And her reason for having to get the boys was a bullshit excuse. That much I know.
So she must be scared. Fuck, I’d be scared too after the shit I’ve pulled with her. Back and forth like a goddamn tennis match because my head’s so fucked-up that I want her but know I can’t give her what she needs.
The fucking problem is my wants are changing and I’m not sure just yet how to deal with that. Because I don’t want them to change. So I let her in more than anyone I ever have and then lash out because I can’t deal with the shit her being around churns up. The vulnerability of my past being exposed, my demons reawakened.
And yet she still called me when she needed help. Fuck if that call didn’t surprise me, but blowing off the Penzoil rep was worth it to be standing beside her right now.
Trying to figure out what the hell I’m doing because fuck if I know.
I study her profile, a soft smirk on her face as she contemplates my question while staring at the muffins in the glass case in front of us. She’s pretending to decide what to order, but I can tell she’s figuring out how to answer me. With honesty because despite the smiles on our faces there is still an underlying tension of unanswered questions between us, or with humor to try and add some levity.
Pick, Ryles. Set the tone for the rest of this conversation because I’m sure as fuck uncertain where to go from here.
“I may not like the coffee part, but Starbucks has some damn good food that is oh-so bad for you.”
You have no idea how true that statement is, sweetheart. I shake my head, my smile more genuine now but her comment weaving into my thoughts. Telling me that she gets this. Gets that anything between us will be a beautiful disaster.
We move up in line, and I can hear the comments starting behind me and at the tables around us. My name is a hushed murmur and usually I’m cool with the attention, but right now I need it to be her and me. I need to figure out why I keep coming back to something that we both know is going to happen again, but this time I fear will either break me or devastate her.
And that’s a heavy fucking burden for a man to bear. I’d like to say I’ll walk away right now and save her the pain but know sure as shit—because I’m standing here—that I can’t. I’d like to think I’d sacrifice myself, take the hit my own demons will hand me, but fuck, I know how brutal that would be.
I’m
not sure if I’m willing to face them in order to let this thing with her play out. And I know that makes me a man weaker than most but hell if I want to relive the horror that’s robbed my soul more than once in a lifetime.
But then again why in the hell am I even wasting time thinking shit like this that I’m never going to allow. Love’s not a possibility for me. Relationships have strings and expectations. Those are hard limits I won’t cross, can’t cross.
And yet here I am, curious what it is about her that I just can’t let go.
“What wo-would you l-like?” The barista stammers when she recognizes me as we step up and thank fuck for that because she pulls me from all of the crap I am overthinking.
Fucking Rylee is rubbing off on me with her reading too much into shit. I can think of other things I’d like to rub off on when it comes to her.
The image that flashes in my head is so very welcome and makes me chuckle and shake my head. I think the cashier catches the suggestive tone of my laugh and infers the direction of my thoughts because she blushes. She busies herself with the cashier buttons as she takes our order and I can’t resist, as we walk away I make sure to say thanks and wink before flashing a huge grin.
We’re lucky to find a table in the corner since the place is packed, and I enjoy the view of Ry’s ass when I pull her chair out before I sit down myself. We sit and stare at each other for a few moments, smirks on our faces and questions in our eyes.
“You know that after what you did today, you’ve most likely reached idol status with the boys now.”
I roll my eyes at her. A hero, I’m far fucking from that. If she knew what I was thinking in line, she’d see I’m more a coward than anything. Idols don’t hide in corners when monsters enter the room to steal things from them that can never be replaced. They fight back, they overcome, they escape and save the fucking day—not cower and cry and plead when pain is headed their way.
They don’t need to call to superheroes because they become one themselves.