Brute: The Valves MC by Carmen Faye Page A

or talk about the weather, I suspected. At least, he didn’t look like a small talk type of guy.
     
    “And Ginger Holt?”
     
    My mouth opened but my brain lagged behind.
     
    “Why are you with your teacher, dear?” he asked, bending down. His voice had turned into something shrill rather than sweet. The thought that he shouldn’t be allowed by law to use his kid voice crossed my mind.
     
    “We’re going to…”
     
    “Her father asked me to pick her up. We live close in the same neighborhood and I thought of the girl’s best interest first, Sir,” I took over, afraid Ginger might spill the beans.
     
    She made a scrunchy face, unhappy with my cutting in, but I squeezed her hand in an attempt to comfort her. How could I explain to her the reason behind why I was lying?  Not only that I lived right next to her father, but I was to pick her up and take her to my place for the weekend. Not home. She was a clever little girl and she saw something wasn’t right with my behavior.
     
    “We have to go. Have a nice weekend, Sir,” I said, to stop her from saying anything else. As I turned to leave, I saw Mr. Deck’s face gather to one side, in an expression that reminded me of a terrible cringe. I saw it in his eyes. He didn’t believe me. I didn’t think he ever believed anyone and that would pose a big problem.
     
    I walked across the street and unlocked my car. Taking Ginger’s bag, I threw it together with mine in the back, and lifted Ginger in the front seat. Rounding the front of the car, I took my phone out and dialed Dawson. I knew he said he was busy, but I needed to tell him the principal might be suspicious. Maybe Ginger had said something to her classmates and Mr. Deck overheard. I had been almost a month already into this arrangement and he never even crossed my path, let alone asked me about Ginger.
     
    The memory of those two children didn’t help with my state either. My hands were shaking and I almost dropped my phone twice. The onset of another anxiety fit was getting stronger with every ring Dawson didn’t pick up.
     
    “Maybe I’m overreacting,” I whispered, as Dawson finally answered.
     
    “What?” he asked, in a much harsher tone than I was expecting.
     
    “Hi. It’s me, Mari. I took Ginger. We’re leaving now,” I reported, unsure of what to say now.
     
    “Oh. Sorry, all right. Thanks.”
     
    “I’m sorry to call, I know you’re busy, but…”
     
    “Yes?”
     
    He seemed impatient. I couldn’t say anything; this wasn’t a talk to have in a hurry.
     
    “It’s nothing. Sorry I called. I’ll look after Ginger and we’ll talk when you’re free,” I said, instead, and hang up. I felt like crying. Straightening my posture, I opened the driver’s door and got in. “We’re going home, honey,” I said, as sweetly as I could.
     
    “Okay. Can we play Jenga?”
     
    “Sure, honey. After we wash up and eat lunch, all right?”
     
    “Mmhmm.”
     
    I drove in silence, unable to take my mind off Dawson’s attitude. I thought we were past the tiptoeing phase of the relationship. I’ll admit, we started everything backwards, but, even so, the way he spoke was, at best, rude. If not demeaning.
     
    Besides, what was so important in the job description of a bouncer to require complete radio silence? It wasn’t like he was a celebrity bodyguard or anything. What was going on? I kept thinking this over, and a shadow began clouding my thoughts. I didn’t want to acknowledge it. I didn’t like it.
     
    “What’s wrong, Miss Bennett?” Ginger’s voice snapped me back to Earth.
     
    And in that moment, I knew. Her interruption brought me clarity. I was in doubt. Doubting me and my feelings, doubting him and his words. The realization hit me like a sucker punch.
     
    “Nothing, honey,” I said with a smile, and reached to caress her hair. I would be putting her before anything else; I knew this. “And call me Mari when we’re not in school, all