by Brenda Ford
Truth be told, I'd love to get some payback on the man who'd ruined my family. But indulging in that little fantasy, I risked everything I'd fought for. Hell, I'd be risking my own freedom.
“I can't get involved with this shit, man. I can't risk getting caught,” I said. “I have a daughter, and I'm the only person she's got. If this shit goes sideways and I get implicated in this, it's going to be bad all the way around.”
“I know, I know,” Mav said. “But trust us, Elias. We'll take care of you. Have we ever done you wrong?”
That was a loaded question. I could think of many times the welfare of the club took precedence over the welfare of its members. I remember several times when I'd been left behind to have the shit beat out of me by a rival club or some other pissed off person.
I remember times when I'd almost been arrested for crimes I barely played a part in. That was why I got out in the first place. But to say that to these men was a dangerous proposition. Mav wasn't the kind of guy who liked hearing the word “no.”
“You also know it's not just about me, Mav,” I said. “I go to jail, Harley gets put in the system. Or worse, she goes to live with Amy's folks. And you know what they did to Amy – I can't let that happen.”
“It won't go down that way, man,” Mav said. “Trust me, brother. We'll take care of anything. All we need from you is to send that text.”
Sounded easy enough alright. One text and I was done. But if I knew anything about Mav and the MC, things were never that easy. There was always some angle to be played. Some hidden agenda. Or some hook in the bait that couldn't be seen until it was too late.
And I knew he wasn't telling me everything. Knew it right down to my bones. Mostly, because he never did. But at the same time, I knew that if I refused them, they could make my life a living hell. Harley's life a living hell. They would keep twisting that knife they had in me until they got what they wanted. That was just the way they operated.
“So you in, man?” he asked me.
I sighed and shook my head. “It doesn't sound like I have much of a choice.”
4
Paige
“Good morning, Ms. Cleary!”
Working bus duty on a Monday morning meant getting into work thirty minutes earlier than usual – which sucked, but was part of the job. The children always made it worthwhile though. I loved seeing them coming back to school all bright eyed and bushy tailed. I loved their energy and excitement. No matter how bad I was dragging on any given morning, their energy was infectious and never failed to make me smile.
The kids were one reason – probably the biggest reason – I'd chosen elementary school over high school. These kids had yet to figure out that Mondays sucked, they were hopelessly optimistic, and their cheerfulness often rubbed off on me.
“Good morning, Kylie!” I said, smiling wide.
Working at a small school also meant I knew mostly all the kids by name. And a lot of the parents who tended to be more involved with their child's education also knew me. I did like that the parents were involved with their children's education, but honestly, I preferred the kids to their parents – they just made my day.
Kylie's mom waved at me as she dropped her daughter off, speeding away in a shiny red BMW – probably on her way to Yogilates or Barre or some other trendy fitness class. I imagined that most of the parents of these kids lived pretty privileged lives – the perks of having enough money to afford to send your child to a small, private school.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Harley and her dad arriving. Elias seemed so out of place in a school like that, pulling up in an older model Mustang when everybody else was driving Mercedes and Beemers, or some other expensive car.
As soon as they approached the door, I waved and called out to Harley.
“Good morning, Harley!” I said, walking over to them. “And good morning to you too, Elias. Do you mind if we chat after you drop Harley off?”
“Sure,” he said, looking slightly annoyed, and giving me a curt nod. “In your classroom?”
“Yes, I have first period off,” I said.
I felt bad how we left things on Friday and wanted to make sure he knew I didn't mean to offend him, if I had. I wanted to assure him that I had Harley's best interests at heart, but never meant to overstep my bounds.
“Alright. See you in a few,” he said. “Come on, Harley.”
I watched as he took her hand and they walked into the building together. For a younger father, Elias was doing more than most single fathers I knew. I'd heard other parents talking about him before, and while he assumed everyone was staring because he didn't fit in, I knew many mothers at the school were staring because they thought he was hot.
Because, as cliché as it was, bad boys were always sexy. Even the snooty moms at our private school could agree on that.
Of course, not everybody was on the same page – namely, me. Maybe with a haircut and a few less tats, I would probably date him. Or, I'd at least consider it. He was an attractive man with chiseled features and gorgeous eyes. And that body – well, it was obvious he worked out. He was fit and took good care of himself. That much was more than obvious to the soccer moms at the school as well as to me.
“Ms. Cleary?” a voice spoke up from behind me, pulling me away from my thoughts on Elias – which was probably a good thing.
“Yes?” I said, turning to find Mikayla Dunmore and her mother standing there. Personally speaking, I loathed Mikayla's mother. She was one of the most pretentious and biggest condescending snobs around – which was saying something given the crowd of snobs who had kids at that school.
“Oh hello, Mikayla!” I chirped. “How are you?”
Mrs. Dunmore stared back at me, looking down her nose at me as if somehow I was a lesser being – which was par for the course with her. She carried a Coach purse and wore shoes that probably cost more than I made in a month. Her blonde hair was pulled into a perfectly coifed, tight, high bun. She didn't say a word while Mikayla excitedly told me all about her weekend. When she told me about her trip to Disneyland with her grandparents, her face positively lit up. She was happier than I usually saw her and it warmed my heart.
“Come on, Mikayla,” her mother said after she'd gone on a few minutes. “Ms. Cleary doesn't want to hear about your weekend – ”
I glared at her, but then smiled down at little Mikayla, “I'd love to hear all about it, but you do need to get to class before you're late. Tell me all about it later, okay?”
Mrs. Dunmore sighed and rolled her eyes as she pulled her daughter away from me and dragged her inside. She probably had some shopping to do, or something far more important to deal with than making sure her daughter had a good day at school.
As they walked away in a huff, I heard her mutter angrily, “I can't believe Lupe would call out sick.”
Lupe was the nanny, the woman who often dropped little Mikayla off every day – a really lovely and friendly woman. I couldn't imagine the hell she endured on a daily basis in the Dunmore household. My heart most definitely went out to her.
It broke my heart to see so many of these kids pushed off on nannies and caregivers, rather than get the love, attention – and most importantly, validation – from their parents that they so desperately craved. That they deserved.
That was one reason I thought it was so vital for me to talk to parents these days to make sure they really got it – yet, many of them didn't seem to. I understood when parents had to work and were under the pressure of time constraints. I got that. But I knew Mrs. Dunmore didn't work and had all the time in the world. She just didn't care to put in the effort.
Her husband was a banker and they lived in a nice house in the most expensive part of town. While Mikayla obviously didn't want for much in the material sense, I could see the desire – the need – inside of her for that positive attention from and interaction with her mother.
Yet, the only time I ever saw Mrs. Dunmore at the school was when the nanny was sick
. It was beyond heartbreak to me. But there was nothing I could do about it. About the only thing I could control was how I ran my classroom and making sure the kids got the positive reinforcement and validation they should have been getting at home.
I knew though, that it wasn't nearly enough.
When the bell rang, I walked into the building and headed for my classroom. My mind was still on Mikayla and how sad her eyes had looked when her mother dismissed her like she had. I'd almost forgotten that I'd asked Elias to meet me, so when I turned the corner and came face-to-face with him, I stopped short and stared for a few moments in shock.
He was sitting at my desk, arms crossed over his chest. But when he saw me standing there, he stood up and walked over to me. And that was when I noticed how tightly fitted his black t-shirt was – and couldn't tear my eyes away. His shirt hugged his body tightly, showing off those strong arms and that chiseled chest beneath it. For a moment, I forgot how to speak.
“Everything okay?” he asked, giving me a cockeyed glance. “You asked to meet with me, remember?”
“I did. That's right, I did,” I stammered, letting my gaze fall lower on his body.
His jeans were oh so tight and left very little to the imagination. It should be illegal for a man to dress like that – and look that good. He ran a hand through his long, black hair and flashed me a crooked smile – because he'd caught me looking.
I felt the heat rushing to my cheeks and just had to hope that I didn't turn some unnatural shade of red. I cleared my throat and tried to avoid his gaze for a moment until I had my wits back about me.
“Here, have a seat,” I said.
I walked past him and I noticed for the first time that not only did he look really good – he also smelled really good too. I had no idea why that was so surprising to me, but it made the breath catch in my throat. I stopped, for a split second, but then hurried past him, sitting down behind my desk. Elias sat across from me and started in on me right away.
“If this is about Harley's drawings, I talked to her and she says she gets her inspiration from the pictures of the tattoos in the shop,” he said. “She wants to be a tattoo artist like her father. And I'm trying to steer her down whatever path makes her happy, Ms. Cleary. And if that's becoming a tattoo artist, then I – ”
I held up a hand to stop him.
“I think that's great, Elias,” I said.
Unbidden, my mind quickly shifted back to Mikayla – but the message was clear. There were obviously worse things in life than having a father working in a tattoo shop. Even I had to admit that now.
“And that's not why I asked you in here, you don't have to explain yourself to me,” I said. “I'm in no position to judge you. My only concern is for Harley and it's obvious that you love her very much and are very involved in her life. And I can't tell you how wonderful I think that is. But what I also wanted to say was that whether you believe it or not, I'm also an outsider here.”
He raised an eyebrow and flashed me a smirk that said, “Yeah, right,” but didn't say a word.
“What? You don't believe me?” I asked.
“Well, call me cynical, but you look like you fit in around here pretty perfectly to me.”
“With these people?” I said with a laugh. “Really? I'm flattered you think that. But just so you know, I drive a Toyota Camry – and not a new one – and live in a one bedroom apartment on the other side of town.”
He shrugged. “The car you drive and where you live doesn't matter to me.”
“I'm very glad to hear that,” I said. “And I'm glad you think I fit in around here, because to most parents, where I live and the kind of car I drive does matter. If they knew where I came from – I doubt they'd want me teaching their kids. I apparently, don't come from the right stock.”
Elias' eyes softened a bit. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I'm not like them. At all,” I said, eyes wide. “And I see them judging me for it too, trust me. I get it. I'm not part of their little world and that's fine. But I think it's fantastic that you take your daughter's education so seriously, and I give you all the credit in the world for that, Elias. I really do.”
“I don't need your admiration, Ms. Cleary – ”
“Paige. Call me Paige, please,” I said. “It's so weird going by my last name with other adults and I don't particularly like it.”
“Paige, then,” he said, leaning forward to stare me dead in the eyes. “While I appreciate your honesty, I have no idea why you're telling me all of this. Honestly, I really couldn't give two shits what you – or anyone here – thinks of me. I just want my daughter to get the best education possible, that's all. And I don't need your – or anybody else's – approval for that.”
I nodded. “I know,” I said. “I just didn't want you thinking I was judging you. After our conversation the other day – ”
Elias' phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, a look of pure annoyance crossing his face.
“Excuse me,” he mumbled as he read the text message. He didn't look entirely happy with what he'd read, but he put his phone face down on my desk and said, “Listen, Paige, I don't really care what anyone thinks of me, and I really don't have time for small talk right now, so unless you've got something to tell me about Harley – ”
Whatever he'd read seemed to have rattled him because his entire demeanour changed. The cocky, confident man from before was gone, replaced by someone who was jittery and on edge. It was as if whatever he'd read hadn't set well with him. Perhaps even scared him a bit.
But it wasn't my place to ask him about his personal life. We certainly didn't have that kind of relationship. We actually had no relationship whatsoever – it was clear he wasn't my biggest fan.
“Well then, I'm sorry to have wasted your time,” I said quietly. “I just wanted to apologize, that's all because I know we didn't exactly get off on the right foot. Believe it or not, I appreciate art in all its forms – even if tattoos aren't for me exactly.”
He scratched the scruff on his face, and I could tell he felt bad. “Maybe we can change your mind about that sometime,” he said. “Come by the shop and we can – ”
“No thanks,” I said, stopping him before he even considered giving me a tattoo. “I'm not interested in getting a tattoo.”
“If you say so,” he said, standing up and walking toward the door. “Just thought I'd offer.”
Once he was gone, I let out a deep breath and cleared my head. Being around him did something to me. I didn't think very clearly and it put me on edge. I had no idea what, but when I was around him, I always felt like I had something to prove to him. Prove that I wasn't like everyone else here. Why did it even matter though? I racked my brain for a reason, but came up empty. I shouldn't care what Elias thought of me as a person. But for whatever reason, I just didn't want him to think of me like that.
It was strange. Normally, I spent all my time trying to fit in by pretending to be like the others. But not with Elias. When I was around him, it was the exact opposite. It felt like I was waging this battle inside of me, and honestly, at times, I wasn't even sure who I was anymore.
ooo000ooo
As luck would have it, Harley's class came in on Mondays. The first art class of the day, actually. She came into the room, her head down, refusing to meet my eyes, and took her seat right away. While the other kids around her were talking and laughing – I normally had to ask this class several times to calm down before they listened – I noticed that Harley remained quiet and aloof.
Normally, I'd assume the child was having a bad day or was just upset about something. I'd do my best to keep an eye on them, just in case. I wasn't going to worry about Harley too much at the moment, but if she didn't perk up soon, I'd check on her.
I walked to the front of the class, but someone tugged at my shirt.
“Ms. Cleary?” a small voice spoke up behind me. I knew who it was before I even turned around.
“Yes, Harley?”
“Am I in trouble?”
“Why would you be in trouble, Harley?” I asked.
She shrugged her tiny shoulders and avoided my gaze. “Because my daddy asked me about my drawings,” she said quietly. “And then he talked to you again this morning.”
“Oh no, sweetie,” I said, resisting the urge to reach out and hug the little girl. “It's nothing like that. We talked about your artwork, but it was because I was just curious about where you got your ideas. You're not in trouble. I promise.”
She looked up at me and looked not only relieved, but much happier. And as she looked at me, a wide smile spread across her face.
“Good, I'm glad I'm not in trouble,” she said. “I'll try to draw more normal things from now on though.”
“Just be yourself, Harley. Draw whatever inspires you,” I said quietly. “That's all that matters, sweetie.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a little boy – Dalton – messing with something on my desk.
“Dalton, what are you doing?”
The kid grinned. “You're not supposed to have your phone out at school, Ms. Cleary,” he said.
“My phone?”
I walked over to him, confused since my cell phone always stayed tucked away in my purse. And I hadn't taken my phone out of my bag, so I had no idea what he was talking about. And when I reached Dalton, taking the phone away from him, I realized that it wasn't mine.
It was Elias' phone.
I took the phone and slipped it into my back pocket, quickly wondering how I was going to get it back to him. I didn't want to send it with Harley for fear of it getting lost or broken, so I hoped he'd realize he left it here and come back for it.
“What have I told you before? You're not supposed to be messing with things on my desk, Dalton,” I said, “Now sit down, please. We need to get started.”
I couldn't believe that Elias had left his phone on my desk – and neither one of us had noticed. I was sure he'd be back in to get it – he was bound to notice that it was missing. Which gave me yet another chance to see him. It was a thought that made me smile a bit. Not that it should. We didn't really get along and there was a tension between us – and an almost competitiveness when it came to Harley. It seemed like we were both intent on one-upping the other in the “I just want what's best for Harley” sweepstakes. He could be a rude, abrasive jerk – but he was nice on the eyes.
