Enticing Interlude (Tempest #2) (14 page)

“Oh, sweetie.” Lace came straight to me, sat on the bed, and pulled my head to her shoulder. “It’s ok. Nothings’ as bad as all that. She started rubbing soothing circles on my back. “I assume this is about Justin. I heard you talking to him out in the hall.”

“I told him we can’t see each other anymore, and now Carter’s mad. He doesn’t understand,” I managed to get out.

“He’ll come around.” I wasn’t sure if she meant Justin or Carter. “I’m on your side, just so you know. We’re friends, Bridget. Teammates, remember? You’re not alone. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Ok. Alright. Don’t bite my head off.” Dizzy raised dark brows. “Fuck man, next time you’re
fucking
off key, I won’t do you the courtesy of
fucking
telling you.” He put his pick between his teeth and tightened the machine heads on his guitar.

“Sorry I jumped your case,” I mumbled, running a hand through my hair and glancing at the studio clock. We’d been at it for hours, just Dizzy and me, trying to come up with some new material.

I sighed. It’d been four long days and four equally long sleepless nights since I’d kissed her and she’d pushed me away. The ache in my chest hadn’t lessened, and I wasn’t getting any better at dealing with it. The only good to come out of the last few days was the lyrics I’d written. Having your heart ripped out and stomped on brought out the inner poet, apparently. One of the darker pieces I’d written had resonated with everyone in the group. That was a good thing because Mary had been putting a lot of pressure on us to come up with something for the benefit performance in eight days.

Dizzy and I had been nose to the grindstone working on the melody for it, but without any luck.

Zilch. Nada. Zero. Nothing.

I sat my ass back on the stool, her face drifting to the forefront of my mind as I plucked around on my Hummingbird.

“Whoa. Hold up a minute,” Dizzy interrupted my favorite recurrent Bridget fantasy, the one where she practically jumps my bones when I lay my soul bare. I liked that one a lot, even though it was less and less likely that it would ever play out.

I had absently been fumbling through the same chord progression for the last ten minutes. I looked up at him, his brows were pinched together. He stared off into space for a moment and then blew my mind by laying down a series of similar but much better kick ass notes on his own guitar.

Head down, I picked up a pencil and quickly jotted down what he’d played. Fifteen minutes after that, we had the entire thing mostly fleshed out, at least enough that we could take it to the rest of the guys for their input.

“It’s pretty damn good,” I assured Dizzy.

He nodded. “It’s a little softer than the stuff we usually do, but I like it, too.”

As I gathered my stuff together, my stomach grumbled really loudly. I started to ask Dizzy if he wanted to grab something to eat with me when my cell phone rang. Lace’s picture flashed up on the display. “Hey,” I answered.

“Hey, JJ. Is Dizzy with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I talk to him? He’s not answering his cell.”

“Sure.” I turned to Dizzy and offered him my phone. “It’s Lace.”

“What’s up?” Dizzy’s brow furrowed. “Sure but you know how it is over here in Kitslano at this time of the day. It could take me over an hour to get to him after I get a cab. He’s ok, isn’t he?”

My stomach tightened at those ominous sounding words. “Who?” I mouthed.

“Bridget’s kid,” he answered.

Shit, no.
“Give me the phone,” I insisted, taking it as he returned it to me. “Lace, it’s Justin again. Tell me what the hell’s going on.”

“Carter’s ok, but he got into another fight at school,” she explained. “He’s being suspended for the day.”

“Is Bridget alright?” I asked, wondering how she was doing considering this bit of alarming news.

“Yeah, but she can’t take off work to get him. This is the second time he’s gotten into trouble this week. I’d go and get him myself, but I’m just getting ready to sit for my fashion marketing exam.”

“I’ll get him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Don’t give me grief, Lace. I’ve got my bike here. I’ll head straight there. I’ll have him home before she gets off her shift. Promise.”

“Ok.” A long pause. “But Justin?”

“Yeah?” I huffed into the phone, raising a hand with my keys in it to Dizzy as I headed for the door. “Make it quick, I’m heading to the garage now.”

“If you should see her, please…I don’t know. Just don’t upset her alright? She’s had a rough week.”

Shit fucking shit
. Now the chest tightness was back, only worse. “Ok, Lace,” I zipped up my jacked and straddled the motorcycle. “I’m hanging up now.”

The familiar growl of the pipes lowered my heart rate to a speed slightly less tachycardic than before. Riding on my bike was a natural tranquilizer, but even so it didn’t have the power to completely calm me at the moment. I was too worried. Damning the consequences, I zipped illegally in and out of traffic, even going up on an empty sidewalk for a brief period of time in my quest to get to the school as quickly as possible.

Poor little kid.
I felt bad for him. He’d been through so much lately.

I parked in front of the three story school building near Stanley Park and hopped up the front steps two at a time. The heels of my boots clapped loudly on the linoleum as I entered the building and pushed through the glass door into the front office.

Legs swinging, Carter was sitting alone in a row of empty chairs near the secretary. He glanced up at me.

“Hey, buddy.” I strove for a soothing tone.

An older woman in a pale peach suit approached me. “Mr. Jones?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Mrs. Steinly.” She held out her hand and gave me a warm smile. Maybe this wouldn’t go as badly as I’d imagined. “Miss Lowell called and said you’d be on your way over. Could you come into my office for a moment, please?”

I nodded. Unpleasant memories of being dragged into see the principal for acting out after my mom died dogged me as I followed her through the reception area and around the corner into her office.

“Have a seat,” she told me sweeping her arm toward the chairs in front of her desk. A worried expression brought a crease between her brows as she took her place on the other side of it. She clasped her hands together on the neatly organized surface. “I just wanted to reiterate that Carter’s a good kid, but he’s having a difficult time adjusting here. As I discussed with Ms. Dubois several days ago, I think he could really benefit from a positive male role model in his life. She mentioned a,” she glanced down at an open file, “Bryan Jackson as a possible candidate. But if that doesn’t work, we have an excellent mentorship program I’d like to get him started in.”

She closed the file and scooted back in her chair. “Given that this second incident came so close on the heels of the other one, we might need to consider professional counseling as well. The school counselor has tried to get him to open up and so have I, but we haven’t had any luck. He seems to think that by keeping silent he’s protecting his mother somehow. But Mr. Jones, if there’s something going on here at my school that’s causing a problem for Carter I want to know. I will put an end to it I can assure you.”

“I’ll talk to his mother. I’m sure she’ll take all this into consideration. And I’ll try talking to him myself.”

“Good. Thank you.” She tucked a strand of grey hair back behind her ear. “Carter can come back to school tomorrow. I really didn’t want to send him home today since he didn’t start the fight. But we have rules to follow.”

“I understand completely.” I stood and shook her hand over the desk before making my way back to Carter. He was in the same place, hands twisted together in his lap. “C’mon, buddy,” I said gently. “Let’s go home.” I reached for his hoodie and helped him put it on.

He lifted his backpack from the floor and slung it over his little shoulder. “My home’s in Florida,” he grumbled as we left the office.

“I know if feels that way, buddy,” I told him softly as I steered him out the door and toward the parking lot, “but Florida didn’t have a bunch of other people like Lace, Bryan, and me who care about you.”

“You don’t care.” He scowled as we crossed the pavement together. “You left.”

I bent down and put my hands on his shoulders so he’d have to face me. “I wanna talk about that when we get to the hotel.”

He nodded but remained sullen until we reached my bike.

He grabbed my sleeve. “That’s yours?”

“It sure is.”

“Wicked!” A smile spread across his face.

“That it definitely is,” I agreed. “And maybe I can convince your mom to let you ride sometime. Today I think it’d be better if we just walk home.” Carter was tall enough that his feet could sit on the passenger rests just fine, and I could put the buddy belt around the two of us as an extra precaution. But with things the way they were right now with Bridget I didn’t want to press my luck. I could come back and get the Triumph later.

His lip jutted out in disappointment. “Talk to her soon, ok?”

He was silent as we struggled uphill the first few blocks, the afternoon sun shining in our eyes, but by the time we turned the corner and headed toward the Sutton, Carter had placed his hand in mine as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Warmth unfurled inside of me. Things were going to have to change with his mother. I wasn’t taking no for an answer. I started making plans as we walked into the lobby together.

“Let’s get something to eat,” I told him as I led him around the large circular oak table that always held a vase of fresh cut flowers and past the concierge desk. “I bet you’re starved. I know I always was after school.” He didn’t argue and since it was between lunch and dinner time there was no wait at the hotel restaurant. After we sat down, I ordered a couple of milks, a fruit platter, and chocolate chip cookies.

We ate in silence for a bit. Carter’s eyes were still guarded, and I was trying to formulate my thoughts. My mind was a chaotic mess. By the time, he’d reached for his second cookie, I’d decided what to say.

“Hey, buddy,” I began. “I’m kinda worried about you.”

“I’m ok,” he replied around a mouthful of cookie, but his gaze dropped and his chin went down to his chest.

I got a hand under it and lifted. “I’m not so sure about that,” I rushed on when I saw the guilt overshadow the previous evenness in his features. “You know, we all go through hard things. I had it rough too when I was about your age.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. My mom got sick and then things got real tough with my dad. I tried to handle it a lot like you are, keeping it all bottled up inside. But that didn’t work. It made me feel like a soda that’s been shaken. Too much pressure builds up and it needs somewhere to go before it explodes like a volcano or something.”

“Yeah. I feel like that sometimes.”

“I bet you do,” I pressed a bit. “And I bet your mom does, too.”

“She cries at night,” he confessed in a small voice. “Ever since Meemaw died.” That bit of revelation burned inside my chest along with all the other worries. “She tries to be quiet, but I hear her. It makes me sad. I’m afraid she’ll have to go away again, and I’ll be alone.”

That was way too much crap for a five year old to take on alone. I leaned over and gave him a big hug. “That’s not going to happen. Your mom’s not going anywhere and neither am I, Champ.”

“What’d you just call me?”

“Champ.” I eased back in my chair, so I could see his face. “Your mom’s a princess, and every princess needs her champion. Someone who looks out for her. Protects her. Like you do. It suits you perfectly.”

His blond brows knitted together as he appeared to be considering it. “I like it,” he concluded.

“Good. I told you it would come to me.” I tapped his nose and handed him a napkin. “But you’ve got chocolate on your chin.”