Leader of the Pack (Bryant Rockwell Book 3)

by Jacky Gray

  “Now, now, girls. You’d better get a move on or you’ll be late. Are you sure you’ll be ok, Liv? You can always stay off for a couple of days.”

  “Mum. I’m fine. I promise I’ll get the bus back. And no runs in the park until next week.”

  When Liv entered the room for registration, a spontaneous round of applause erupted, which she found extremely embarrassing. She didn’t spot who started it, but Ray glanced at her with a mysterious expression.

  When she passed his desk, he caught her arm. “It’s good to see you back and looking so well. Good weekend?”

  As his smile deepened, something originating way behind his eyes connected with the wiring in her brain causing all manner of disruption in her ability to control simple things like body temperature and blood circulation. Somehow, she hung it together well enough to divert the gremlins threatening to rob her power of speech.

  “I … er … we had a marvellous meal. Last night. Wellington Hall.”

  He had no problem articulating. “We were out too; the new Indian in town? Great food, but I ate enough to feed a small continent.”

  Reaching the sanctuary of her desk, she gave her brain a stiff talking to, but it didn’t work as her concentration went completely offline. Instead of English and French, her memories of the morning’s lessons were a combination of eyes, arms and lips. All yummy.

  At break, Jude and Kat spirited her into the loos, doing a Spanish Inquisition about her weekend. Who expected that? When she told them about the wonderful food, Jude laughed.

  “That’s more like the Liv Tranter we know and love.”

  Liv mentioned Vicky’s theory about the waiter fancying her, when he was only doing his job and trying to be charming.

  Kat responded with an eye-roll. “Typical Liv. You never think anyone fancies you. Look in the mirror, girl. You are completely gorgeous.”

  Liv eyed herself critically, pulling in her stomach. “Still a bit to go, especially after yesterday’s pork-out, but you’re right; I’m not bad. Terry said ... what’s up?” She faltered as her friends exchanged a look.

  Jude couldn’t meet her eye. “You know in the hospital when you said it was just platonic with Terry, did you mean it?”

  “Yeah, why? Has he found himself someone else?”

  They looked at each other, then back at her and nodded their heads.

  “Good. You two look like a pair of Disney sidekicks.”

  Kat stared, wide-eyed. “You mean you really don’t mind?”

  “No, why should I? I’m guessing this is Alison; she’s probably a lot better for him. I think I’m too much, he doesn’t know how to handle me.”

  Jude gave an astute nod. “And of course, it leaves you free if this sixth former should decide to whisk you away from all this.”

  “As if. I’m sure he’s forgotten I exist.”

  Halfway through maths, Ray asked to leave the room. Miss Leon, affectionately known as Lenny, disapproved strongly of people needing the bathroom during a class, but his expression was enough to convince even the strictest teacher that refusing would have consequences of the cleaning-up variety. She sent Luke to make sure he got there ok.

  Liv had no choice but to focus in maths and, just before lunch, Luke came back saying Ray had been really ill, throwing up in the toilets, but his mum picked him up. When the lunch bell rang, Lenny asked if anyone could drop his bag off at home. Jude volunteered herself and Liv. As they packed his books away, Terry approached, asking for a private word.

  They took the long route to the lockers as he explained with some embarrassment that he’d met someone he wanted to take out.

  “I wondered if you wouldn’t mind if we broke off our ... sort of ...”

  “Relationship? Does this mean you won’t be hanging round with the gang anymore? Am I never to speak to you again?” She held the back of her hand to her forehead. “Oh, Terry. I’m not sure if I could bear it.”

  Terry made with the Bugsy voice. “Cut the melodrama, Tranter. I know you’re only teasing.”

  “As if. You’ll always be a good friend, and Alison’s welcome to join our gang.” She grinned at his why-am-I-not-surprised? look.

  “Dunno about that. She’s only year ten and finds you all a tad scary.”

  “Especially me, huh? Does she think I’ll scratch her eyes out for stealing you from me? Or is that just wishful thinking by your ego?”

  “I … have an ego?” He borrowed the classic line from the meme of Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves.

  “No, of course not. Silly me. Well, whatever. I understand. Are you meeting her for lunch? You better get going, then.” She gave him a quick hug and tapped his bum, eliciting the desired comedic response.

  As she opened her locker, a note fluttered out. She picked it up and noticed the big heart and single kiss. Her mysterious admirer again. This time, the handwriting wasn’t girly but done in an old-fashioned script. She recognised the prose as Shakespeare and, after a couple of lines, was pretty sure it came from Twelfth Night.

  “Make no compare between that love a woman can bear me, and that I owe Olivia.” She jumped at the attractive male voice; she hadn’t heard his approach. His intonation on the line, the same Ray had used, confirmed it was the Duke’s speech.

  “Good morrow, fair Olivia.” Did he really just do a half-bow? “Shakespeare says everything so much more eloquently.”

  “James.” She held the note close to her chest. “I didn’t think I’d see you at school.”

  “Neither did I. It’s why I came looking for you. I figured you’d probably come here sooner or later. I got some funny looks at break, hanging around year eleven lockers.”

  “Mum said you liked me. And Vicky was sure the rose ...”

  “… would smell as sweet by any other name.”

  He certainly knew his Shakespeare. Grinning, she pulled out her stuff, locked the door, then faced him, suddenly shy.

  “Would my lady care for some luncheon?”

  She struggled not to blush at the intensity of his gaze. This felt like a theme. “I … er … I’m meeting some friends. We usually sit together.”

  “Then please allow me to accompany you to the dining room.” He crooked his arm and linked hers, leading her across the central lawned area. When they reached the queue, he gave a small bow. “May I have the honour of escorting you home tonight, Mistress Olivia?”

  She hesitated, reluctant to refuse him again. Besides, his odd language was attracting attention. “Sure, I usually catch the bus, though.”

  “Have no fear; my trusty mount will serve us well. ’Til then, my lady.” He raised her hand to his lips and took his leave of her.

  “Wow, Liv. Was he for real?” Becky’s eyes did the stalky-pop thing.

  Liv tried for nonchalance, and failed. “It’s just a joke.”

  “I should meet such a joker.” She fanned her face. “Well romantic. And such a hunk – even with the glasses. Is he in the sixth form?”

  “Yeah, I only just met him.” Liv selected a salad.

  “He seemed well smitten with you. I wish some good-looking guy would look at me like that.”

  “I’m sure you get more than your share, Becky. See you.”

  Liv swiped her payment card and joined the others. More Spanish Inquisition, but this time she expected it.

  “Was that your sixth former?” Kat cleared a space for Liv’s tray. “Jude saw him first; I only got a quick look. Proper hot.”

  “How come you didn’t say he was hot, Jude?” Luke fixed her with a stern glare.

  “You think I notice other guys with you around? Kat’s on about the way he kissed her hand and everything.”

  “What, like this?” Luke took her hand and raised it decorously to his lips. Then he ruined the effect, pretending to suck her finger sexily.

  “Luke!” Poor Jude snatched her hand away, blushing crimson. “Come back Ray, all is forgiven. At least he’d keep you in check.”

  “Oh, no.” Liv groaned, cu
rsing her butterfly brain. “I’d forgotten about Ray’s stuff. I just promised to go home with James.”

  “No worries. Kat and I will escort Jude.” Luke always relished the chance to play the hero. “It’s only a short detour to Ray’s house.”

  Liv grinned as the other two rolled eyes. “Thanks guys. I didn’t want to disappoint him again, he’d already asked me to have lunch with him.”

  “Come on, don’t keep us in suspense.” Kat nudged her arm. “What’s he like when he’s not waiting tables?”

  “He seems to think I’m hooked on Shakespeare, because he keeps talking like he’s in a play. Becky must have thought he was well OTT.”

  Kat raised her eyebrows. “But what do you think?”

  “I’m not sure if I’m good with it. It’s ok as a joke, but I’d need to see the real boy when he’s not playing a part.”

  Jude grinned. “Maybe you’ll get your chance this afternoon, while we’re visiting the invalid.”

  The afternoon flew by, and most people had gone by the time James showed up at the lockers, a little less than his previous, unruffled cool.

  “Sorry I’m late. I had some trouble tracking down my spare helmet. Paul had it and I couldn’t find him. Thanks for waiting.”

  “My good knight, ’twould have been churlish not to tarry a while after such exquisite courting as you did display on the luncheon hour.”

  “My lady does me every honour and I thank her for such gracious words.” His whole demeanour changed for the duration of the speech and a couple of beats more, then his face cracked into a broad grin. “I knew it. I was worried when you didn’t play along at lunch, but I knew you had to be a fan of the bard.”

  “People were staring at us. I didn’t want anyone taking the Mick.”

  “If you’re enjoying what you’re doing, they can take what the heck they like.” His smile deepened with the whole crinkling skin around his eyes thing.

  Definitely the theme of the day. She prophesied eyeballs invading her dreams as they stared, rolled, and popped. But mostly, they gave crinkly-skin smiles which touched her soul.

  “Now, have you ever been on a bike before?”

  She shook her head and, as he led her down the stairs, he explained about centre of gravity and which way to lean on a corner.

  “Not that you’ll have to lean much. I won’t be doing the sort of speeds which make your knees scrape the deck.”

  The tingling in her spine resulted in an involuntary shudder and, although she tried hard to suppress it, he noticed. She couldn’t be entirely sure, but he seemed to be tuned into it, waiting for it, almost.

  Putting his arm round her shoulders, he gave her a quick squeeze, his tone grave. “Don’t worry, I’m quite safe, I haven’t had a spill in ... ohhh, it must be days.”

  He maintained the serious expression long enough for his words to sink in, but as her face reflected her concern, those crinkly eyes were back with a resounding, “Gotcha.”

  Why was she not surprised? Her mum said those pages in the “Dad Handbook” not filled with weak, obvious jokes contained detailed instructions on the not-so-subtle art of teasing females and children. Or was it tormenting? Whatever, James looked like he’d studied it well.

  Shaking her head, she rooted around for her specs case, popping them in and stowing it back in her bag. In her mind, glasses and helmet were just not happening.

  When they reached the bike, he helped her on with the helmet, making sure the chin strap was good and tight, then put on his own.

  The strong odour of male sweat and cigarettes increased when he snapped her plastic visor down. His voice was muffled as he explained she mustn’t get on until after he’d started the engine.

  Her skirt rode up over her thighs as she straddled the bike, but she could do little except cringe at the thought of the exposed flesh, and give thanks it no longer flaunted unremitting cellulite. When he put her arms round his waist and told her to hang on, she did so willingly. No way would she grab the bar behind, this felt much safer, if a little intimate. But insignificant compared to the vibrations between her legs.

  Liv was totally unprepared for the physical sensations as the wind whipped her hair and chilled her legs and hands. Every bump in the road communicated its presence via her vertebrae.

  As they went down a straight, he turned and shouted, “Ok?” The wind grabbed her answer and threw it away before he could hear.

  She didn’t recognise some of the route; the streets looked different from this perspective. Eventually, he slowed to turn into a car park, and stopped in one of the spots allocated for motorbikes.

  Shrugging off his helmet, he turned to check she was all right, pulling up her visor. “You have to get off first.”

  He held out a hand, which she grabbed gratefully as she dismounted in the most inelegant fashion, desperate not to flash any more thigh. But she needn’t have worried; putting the bike on the side stand took his attention. She tried to figure out how to work the strap to remove the helmet, but her fingers were frozen.

  Taking her hands, he gallantly rubbed them between his which had been snug in their leather gauntlets. “Sorry, I should have thought about gloves. Here.” He put her hands in the oversized gloves while he released the offending strap and removed her helmet.

  “Next time remind me to dress for the arctic. At least two pairs of jeans and a scarf. And gloves. Thermal ones. Five pairs.”

  He grinned. “Apart from freezing your bits off, did you enjoy it?”

  “I’ll let you know when I’ve thawed out.” She returned the gloves, scanning around as he stowed them in his helmet. “Where are we?”

  “Somewhere quiet. I wanted to have a quick chat and I couldn’t see myself doing it at your house with your mum twitching the curtains to see which hooligan just turned up on a motor bike.”

  “But you’re not a hooligan.”

  “You wait ’til you hear what I have to say. Fancy a hot drink?”

  “Sure.”

  As they walked to the front of the nearby building, she recognised it as the tea room in the park by her house. Living so close, they never used the car park entrance.

  He steered her toward a nearby bench. “I know you’re cold, but I just want a minute. Please?”

  She nodded and they sat. He took both of her hands, holding each to his lips until he had her full attention.

  “I’m going to be totally honest with you. When you hear my story, you may not want to have anything more to do with me.” He met her instinctive denial with a rueful expression. “Please, before I tell all, can I ask one thing of you?” His eyes flicked up to her mouth.

  She knew what he wanted and matched his desire. As she inclined her head, he covered her lips with his in a delicate caress which stirred her senses, promising many things, all of them exquisite. Closing her eyes, she gave herself up to the pressure of his mouth, overwhelmed by the intensely masculine aromas of leather, musk and a hint of sweat. The sheer sensuality of the experience almost brought tears to her eyes.

  When he started to break away, she leaned toward him, wanting more. He paused, obviously trying to work how to react, and she caught an underlying citrus scent – his aftershave? Something inside her head tightened, squeezing her skull until she thought it might pop. She broke away, breathless and confused, and the tension instantly released.

  He crushed her to him for a second then dropped a light peck on her forehead. Pulling her up, he guided her into the tea room where he bought a pot of tea and doughnuts and chose a quiet corner. She set to work knocking the sugar off the doughnut with a spoon, a messy job at the best of times, but that much sugar made her insides cringe.

  His face got serious, for real this time, as he gazed into her eyes. “I realise you haven’t recognised me yet, but you’ll know my name. It’s Jimmy Proud.”

  10 By Any Other Name

  “You’re Jimmy Proud? But you can’t be.” She shrank back in her seat. “He’s a nasty piece of work. Nothing bu
t trouble.”

  He removed his glasses and ruffled his hair, in a real-life, honest-to-goodness superman-style transformation from charming geek to chavvy trash. His voice took on a lowlife accent and he adopted a sullen air which altered the shape of his face. “At your service, my fair lady.”

  “And sworn enemy of Kat’s brothers. I shouldn’t be here. Kat is my best friend.” Her eyes darted round the room, desperate for an escape.

  He sought permission to take her hand.

  Request denied.

  His lips quirked in acknowledgement. “The real fight was between Paddy and my brother Gerry; the rest of us just took sides. I know back then I was one of the bad guys, and I made a lot of enemies.”

  She blinked to hide the “no kidding” snark screaming round her head.

  His hands stretched out in supplication. “But I’m not that guy any more. These days, even Paddy Flynn can stand to be in the same room as me for ten minutes without throwing a punch.”

  “So what about Diana’s party? You smashed the place up.” She folded her arms. “And you were trying to force her to make out with you on the dance floor.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “I forced her? Is that what she’s been saying? She wishes.”

  “It wasn’t her, actually.” Liv’s voice plummeted to arctic depths.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean she wants … that.” His expression said he knew he’d crossed a line and his whole body language begged for a hearing.

  She wriggled her shoulders before nodding assent.

  “First of all, you didn’t see the way she threw herself at Paul. He was dressed as Batman and she mistook him for Luke. When he’d had enough being pawed at, he buggered off and asked me to take over.”

  He glanced down at the floor. “I only danced with her. Ok, I’ll admit it got quite erotic, like Dirty Dancing, but she couldn’t get enough of it. Except she’d had way too much to drink and got caught up in her long dress. She fell over, taking me with her. I tried to get up and she kept pulling me back down. You can imagine how it looked.”

  His gazed implored empathy, but she stirred her tea, unwilling to give an inch. As she sipped, he continued. “Her snotty cousin tried to pick a fight and I pushed him away. I think he might have knocked a table over when he fell, but I didn’t stop to find out, I’d had enough by then.”