Play Dirty: Devil's Mustangs MC (2 page)

CAL

The screen door to the clubhouse slams. I instantly drop my playing cards and spin around in my chair, on edge. No one enters the clubhouse unannounced unless they’re looking for trouble. And what is staring at me certainly is.

I rise to my feet, my voice hitching with the motion, “Maddie Ross, what in the hell are you doing here? Why aren’t you in school?”

Maddie looks at me, her brown eyes big and red – her mom’s eyes. Her bottom lip quivers a bit before she sucks in a huge gulp of air. She’s holding back tears, something I taught her at an early age to do. Motorcycle club members don’t cry, even if they are ten years old. She lets out a gasp as she speaks. “They kicked me out, Dad,” she says, still on the verge of breaking down. “They kicked me out for fightin’.”

She hands me a crumpled, wrinkled blue slip of paper from the palm of her hand. I notice her bruised and bloodied knuckle as I try not to beam with pride. We had been working on her punching accuracy with Red Dog, our club enforcer. She was getting good.

But there was no time to think about that or even congratulate her. It’s time to play parent. I unfold the note and read the neat, perfect cursive handwriting slowly.

Mr. Ross,

Your daughter Maddie is in danger of being expelled over a fight in which she and Johnny Dunlap were engaged. Maddie injured Johnny, and as a Washington scholar, that is unacceptable. Added to the fact that this is her third fight this semester, it is important that you and I sit down immediately to discuss the next course of action. Hopefully, we can find a solution that keeps Maddie in school. I expect to see you today after school is let out before 7pm.

Yours truly,

Michelle Springer

I shake my head furiously. “What the actual
fuck
, Maddie?” I roar at my daughter. “Why is this prissy-ass teacher wantin’ to speak to me? Don’t you know better?” 

A gruff voice pops up behind me, “What’d she do, Cal?” Zero and Ace, two of the live-in club members, are watching us excitedly. They’ve known Maddie since she was a baby. They’re practically fathers to her. But given the circumstances, maybe we’ve been less than the best father figures.

I answer, keeping my gaze on my daughter who is still trying to choke back her feelings, “She beat Johnny Dunlap up, and now, some teacher wants me to go in and have a conference with her.”

Ace replies curiously, “Dunlap? That ain’t Mountain Dunalp’s son, is it?”

I stop myself and turn to face Ace. He’s right. It’s the same last name and the location is correct: he’s the son of the president of the Coyotes, as big a piece of shit club as there’s ever been.
Does Maddie know?
I wonder to myself. She picks up on things a lot faster than I give her credit for. And she’s often in earshot of our meetings, though when they happen, I lock her in her bedroom with one of the women to keep her out of the way.

Maddie jumps on Ace’s observation, not even giving us a second to process the new information, “Yeah! It is! That bastard said my mom was killed an’ that it was all her fault for running with you. He called her a no-good, two-cent whore. Said she was nothin’ but a cross-club slut.”

Woah. I can’t believe it. That man’s son crossed so many lines. Why couldn’t a teacher see that? What ignorant, stuck-up woman thinks my daughter is in the wrong for standing up for her mother’s honor? I would've beat the tar outta that sniveling little shit if I he’d dared say that about Linda to my face.

I stand up, furious. I’m not about to let my daughter get kicked out of school for something that was clearly not her fault. I place some money on the table, cashing out my cards, and then I turn and grab Maddie by the arm. I drag her out of the kitchen and back towards where my bike is parked in the garage. I lift her up in the bucket and straddle towards the front.

She holds on as we take off, screaming over the howl of the fall wind, “Where we going?”

“We’re gonna talk some sense into this Miss Springer. If she knows what’s good for her, she won’t be expelling anyone today.”

I grit my teeth as we make it the few blocks to the school. By the time we arrive, I can see the steady stream of kids filling out towards their buses or waiting cars. Teachers and staff stand together at the foot of the stairs chatting with each other. No one looks concerned or even the least bit affected by my daughter being absent. My blood boils.

If I hated school when I was a kid, now I detest it. I dropped out at fifteen, joining the club as soon as they’d let me drive. I was a legacy. My dad was a founding member. He helped build the clubhouse we live in with his own hands. School was just a way to pass time before it was my turn to take the torch. And I haven’t looked back since.

But now that I’m a dad, I know I can’t act that way around Maddie. School is a means to an end. If I had a boy, it might be different. Maybe I’d treat him like my old man did by telling him to slack off, forget the homework and books. But I want a better life for Maddie outside the club. Girls like her, smart ones who’ve got genuine brains, don’t belong. I don’t want her driving the cage while her husband does some drug runs. That ain’t what I've got planned for her.

“Miss Springer’s that one.” Maddie points towards a small woman in a navy blue cardigan and mint green dress. Her long brown hair flows down her shoulders and she fiddles with it as she stands nervously to the side. Unlike the rest of the teachers, she’s looking out towards her students, waving goodbye to each of them as they go.   

As the last bus disappears, I notice that I haven’t taken my eyes off of her. She’s exactly the last woman on earth I would ever be physically attracted to, but she’s light. Every bit about her is illuminated from the top of her wavy hair to the small, modest heels she’s wearing. But it’s not even that she’s the complete opposite of my usual type of girl. It’s that she's this subtle sexy. It’s that kind of woman that you would give every bit of you just to see her undress slowly. I lick my lips as I imagine her slipping off her shoes and standing before me naked with nothing but those nude tights.

Maddie brings me back to reality, “Are you gonna go in, Dad?”

I command Maddie to not leave the parking lot as I run inside the school and search the hallways for her classroom. I finally spot her figure in through the small peephole window. She’s bending over her desk, her ass facing me as she reaches to put a pen back down. When she stands, she leans back slightly and stretches her arms towards the sky. I can make out the silhouette of her perky little breasts. This isn’t going to be easy.

Still, the note that is still in my hand weighs about a million pounds. I shake my head remembering where I am and who I'm with. All fantasies are off… for now. It’s time to be an actual parent. I can’t forget that although she may be fine as fuck, she's still the tight ass that is expelling my daughter.

I grab the door handle, and I push myself in, not even giving her a second to compose herself. She spins, frightened as I scream at her, “Who the fuck do you think you are, lady?”

Miss Springer retreats behind the desk a bit, putting a distance between her and me, “Um, I’m sorry, but I don’t think I know you…”

“Like hell. You know me. I’m Cal Ross, Maddie Ross’s father.” I throw the paper on her desk, watching it tumble towards the neat stacks she has laid out. “Tell me, do you get off expelling a little girl? Do you even know what that fucker kid did to my daughter?”

She holds up her hands defensively, as if she needs to protect herself. Her eyes dart back and forth, trying to find an escape plan. “Mr. Ross, please. Can we just sit down and talk about this? I don’t want any trouble.” She's pleading with me. And, again, my mind flashes to her on her knees, her sweater unbuttoned as she takes my cock into her mouth.

“Oh, you’ve found your trouble, lady. No one messes with my daughter. No one!” So many emotions are running through my mind. I want to shake her, and I want to take her on this desk right now. I want to dominate her in more ways than she knows.

She looks down at her hands as I yell at her. And then, in a move I’ve never seen, she looks up at me, peering into my eyes. For a moment, both of us stop as we try to feel one another out from a distance. She’s searching for something, and by how she takes five gentle steps towards me, I know she’s found it.

Her walk is dainty and soft, as she comes within hand’s distance from my body. Her tiny frame only comes up to my shoulders, but she looks up at me with strength, almost a quiet dignity. For a moment, I think she wants to touch me, but, instead, she asks politely, “Mr. Ross, would you like to take a seat?” 

Miss Springer doesn’t wait for me to object. Instead, she sits down quickly in a student’s chair resting next to my legs. I take the one next to her. It’s comically small, and we're squished together. My arm is touching hers, and I wonder if she can feels the heat of me against her fair skin.

She sighs deeply, as if she has been having a great thought this entire time. “Mr. Ross, I'm so sorry I had to bring you in this way.” She looks at me again, my blood beating at least twice as fast as she catches and holds my gaze. “The truth is that I don’t want to expel Maddie. She’s bright – maybe the smartest kid in this class. And she’s got a toughness to her. But she can’t go around beating kids up, no matter what they say about her family.”

I pause, trying to think of an interjection, something to argue with. But her calm, peaceful energy has reminded me of where I am and the expectations I'm supposed to have for Maddie. Is this what real parenting is?

I lose my words, instead nodding at her as she continues. “I want to help her stay here. But Principal Western is insistent that she be expelled. However, I talked to her about an alternative. It’s a program here at Washington Elementary where she will be placed in a specialized classroom with a behavioral aid supervisor. I will send her homework there and monitor her progress. If she doesn’t cause any issues, then she can return next quarter.”

“Miss Springer, I don—”

She holds out a small hand towards me, “Michelle. It’s Michelle.”

I avoid shaking it. The last thing I want to do is touch her. “Michelle, I don’t think you get it. This wasn’t Maddie’s fault. She was defending her mother’s honor. She had every right to beat the shit out of that kid.”

“Mr. Ross.”

I mock her, holding my hand out to her, “Cal. It’s Cal.”

She rolls her eyes and then stands. She’s had enough of me. “Cal, I get that you think it’s okay that Maddie nearly kill someone. According to her, that’s something she learned from you. But in this school, it’s not okay. And if she were to, I don’t know, get a job, she would be expected to do the same there, in the real world.”

She’s getting snarky. This little tart of a woman with her calm and cool impression is actual one bitter mouth. I stand, towering over her. “Are you saying she isn’t living in the real world?”

“From what she’s told me about her life with you, I would say it’s far from the picture of an ideal home.” I can tell by the way she's slowly moving her jaw that there’s some fear holding her back. She’s got lots to say to me about how I raise my daughter.

But I’m not going to hear any of that. Who is she to judge me? I raise my voice even louder, almost shouting over her, “Lady, you've got no fucking idea what the real world is. You sit here with your perfect folders and your perfect desks and you think you know what it’s like. But you haven’t got a goddamn clue. And by the sounds of it, you don’t like that my daughter may know more about it than you.”

She doesn’t shout. She doesn’t even shy away. Instead, she keeps her voice as even as can be, “That’s fine and well with you, but you don’t have an option. You can either accept my solution or take Maddie out of this school. But I've got a feeling that if you do take her out, there’s not gonna be anyone there to teach her anything other than how to wear a leather jacket and change a bike tire. Am I right?”

I point my nose square in her face as I exclaim, “Fuck you. Fuck this school, too.” I turn on my heel and storm out the door. I hear it slam as my fist connects to the wood.

I’m about halfway down the hallway when I hear her call back at me, “Mr. Ross! Cal!” I turn reluctantly in my place. She's standing in the doorway, her body resting against the wood. Her arms are crossed tightly against her chest. She yells towards me, “I expect to see Maddie here tomorrow morning at 7:30 to pick up her homework and report to Mr. Rosemont’s room. And I expect to see you here in two nights for a follow up conversation about her progress.”