Brainy and the Beast (10 page)

That was all it took. His groan filled the room, and I smiled down at his cock as I continued to pull it, letting him ride the aftershocks. It felt good to make Henry come, to know he’d been so excited by my talking—and tugging—that he couldn’t hold back one more second.

“There you go, Doc. Something to remember me by.”

It was still dark outside, but I could see the grayness of predawn through the tall windows. Henry apparently didn’t like to close the wood blinds, and since I could now see a large number of screening trees out there, it didn’t appear he needed them. My thoughts drifted as I watched the play of light on the walls.

Something popped into my brain, and like always, made its way directly to my mouth. “You know what? I’m just thinking that now I can’t send you a bill. It would be too freaky after this. Like you were paying me for sex or something.”

Two weeks later, I was still cursing myself for acting like an idiot.
Really smooth, Ace
. Henry hadn’t called me again. Big surprise. I get a new customer. I fuck the new customer. Then I insult the new customer. I had a hard time imagining my dad or grandfather doing business that way.

Ew
. Maybe I shouldn’t even go there.

And I still hadn’t sent Henry a bill.

I blew out a breath, ruffling the hair on my brow. “Whatever. Christ.” I could still picture the look on Henry’s face, his mouth open, his eyes wide. I’d sure surprised him, whatever the hell else I could say about it.

I’d been so embarrassed by my unfiltered icebreaker that I’d gotten dressed and hightailed it out of his house. And I’d missed the breakfast he’d promised me, too.

“Dude!”

“What?” I looked up from my computer screen, annoyed. “I’m busy. Too busy to chitchat with you right now.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Jake gave me a look through the doorway of my little office. “Sarita called you twice on the PA. You’ve got a phone call.”

Shit
. I’d kind of been ignoring her pages on the intercom, but now I’d have to answer. “Okay. Thanks.” I picked up the handset and spun my chair to face the back wall. “Shelton.”

There was a beat of silence, and I wondered if I’d sounded too abrupt.

“Mr. Shelton? Good morning. This is Vice Principal Hughes at Lake Forest High School.”

Uh-oh. “Yes?” Why the hell was someone from Grant’s school calling me?

“Mr. Shelton, your office manager informed me that your father is out on business?”

“Yeah. He’s meeting with a supplier down in Chicago. He should be back in a little while. Why?” What the heck was going on?

Hughes took a breath. “Grant has been involved in an altercation in the cafeteria. He’s all right; he’s safe. Since your father is not available, we’ll need you to come down to the school now to pick him up.”

I frowned. “Pick him up? Why? What’s going on?”

“We’d prefer to discuss that in person. For now, he’s here in the administration office, and we’ll wait for you to arrive.”

This could not be good. I stretched my neck, rolling my head to remove the kinks aggravation had already caused. “Uh. Look. It’s almost one now. I can be there in about fifteen, twenty minutes.”

“Thank you, Mr. Shelton. We’ll see you shortly.”

I threw the handset back in the cradle. “Fuck.” Stomping up to the front of the garage, I stepped through to the small service-counter area and shoved open the door to the front office. “Sarita.”

“Eek! You scared me!” Brown eyes flashing at me, Sarita held one hand to her chest.

“I couldn’t scare you if I tried.” My office manager was a little pit bull disguised as a daisy. Sarita Gomez might look like a flower, but on the inside, where it counted, she thought she was Vin Diesel. When she’d come to work for me three years ago, she’d managed to organize my dad’s mess of an office in short order. Not only that, she was more than able to keep the rowdy mechanics in line. All while looking a little bit like Salma Hayek. At least, that’s what Jake told me.

“I need you to call Gary over at the supply house and find out where the hell the parts are for that Jag. They’re still not here. Then call over to Ramon and get an ETA on Martin’s car, will you?” I sent all my bodywork over to a guy in Highwood who was really good. He and I had a mutual referral thing going on, which usually resulted in a decent amount of work for me.

“Okay, boss.” Sarita glanced at me sideways. “What’s up? You’re looking a little riled.” She kept her long black hair in a ponytail, and the fluorescent lighting gleamed on it as she tilted her head questioningly.

“Christ, I don’t know. Grant’s school just called. The principal—or somebody—has him in his office.”

“Is he okay?” Sarita started to get up.

“I think so.” I rubbed my jaw. “I’m not sure. Hell, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Well, you’d better get going over there and find out.
Pobrecito
.” I figured she didn’t mean me with that. Sari had taken a shine to the kid when he’d started to come by on no-school days. Why, I didn’t know, since Grant wasn’t that much of a talker around her that I could see. But what did I know? I’d learned not to try to figure out how her brain worked a long time ago.

Now, she shooed me toward the door. “We’ll be fine here. You better get to that school and find out what’s going on.” She gave me her mothering look—the one I’d seen all too often since Grant came to live with me. “You should probably stay home with him. Talk to him. He needs a strong man in his life.” Sarita clicked a few keys on her computer, then picked up her phone.

“What am I, chopped liver?”

“You’re the uncle he hardly knows, even after two years.” She looked over her glasses at me while she dialed. “What are you still doing here? I’ll call you if I need anything.”

Bossy brat. I really wanted to stick my tongue out at her. “Fine. When Dad gets back, will you make sure he doesn’t stay here too late? He’s really into that Bel Air he’s working on, and he forgets to look at the clock sometimes.” My dad had taken on the job of restoring a ’59 Chevy, the sweetest little thing in milk-chocolate bronze. He really liked the interior restoration jobs the most, and it was easier for him to work on them, since he could take his time. “And ask him to take the dogs home when he goes, will you?” Since my old man left at two, he could take the beasts back to the house.

“Okay, boss.” Sari turned her attention to the phone as her call was answered on the other end.

A thought occurred to me. Enough of this acting like a teenager with his first crush. I threw on my ski jacket and grabbed my gloves and knit cap. “Hey. E-mail that bill to Henry Travis, will you?”

Sari nodded without breaking off her conversation, and I grinned briefly as I headed to the Volvo.

To quote my nephew: “Whatever, dude.”

Halloween had come and gone, and the temperature had dropped like a stone this first week of November. I made sure to flick on the seat warmer as soon as I got in the car. Which reminded me, I needed to install a damned remote starter in this heap.

The ride over to the school was uneventful, which was helpful since I was on the phone arguing with my banker most of the way there. The guy was pretty good most of the time, but when it came to explaining to me why the goddamned monthly fees were so high, he clammed up tighter than a duck’s ass. And his timing sucked; he always picked the wrong time to call me back, when I was under the hood of one of my beauties, or like right now, when I was already cranky about having to go see the principal.

I pulled into the school lot and scowled as I tried to find the visitor parking. Other than coming to Grant’s soccer game, I’d been at the high school exactly twice: once to get him registered, and the second time for a teacher conference. My dad was my wingman when it came to the school stuff, so I was kind of lost as I approached the big entrance.

I got stopped by a security guy when I walked in. “Hey, buddy, where’s the office?” After he checked my ID, he sent me up to the second floor.

I stuck my hat and gloves in my pockets, but I kept the ski coat itself closed. Self-consciously, I played with the zipper as I told the receptionist who I was. I was wearing my Shelton Motors work shirt and uniform pants, since I hadn’t been about to run home and change just to impress some principal guy. Now, though, I thought maybe I should have done that. The man walking toward me was all suited up—he even had a vest on.
Shit, must be paying these principal types pretty well.

“Mr. Shelton? Thanks so much for coming in. I’m Jack Hughes.” His grip was firm. “Will you join me in my office? The other parents have just gotten here too.”

Other parents? What the hell was going on? I followed Hughes into the inner sanctum. We walked along a short hallway, and he led me to the office on the left. “May I take your coat?”

When I shook my head, he gestured toward the only empty seat in the room. On my side of the large desk, the five people already there had their heads cranked around to look at me.

Grant quickly ducked down, the expression on his face guilty as hell. I took the chair next to him, then ran my gaze over everyone else there. “What’s going on?”

“What’s going on is your kid attacked mine!” The big guy next to me held up a meaty finger. The buttons on his suit coat were looking a little strained as he jabbed that pointer my way.

I raised my brows, leaning my head back a hair. “Easy, fella. Why don’t you dial it down a notch and tell me what happened?” Grant wouldn’t acknowledge me when I said that, so I looked back at the Hulk, hoping he could enlighten me.

“I’m not going to dial it down. Your son’s a menace. He waited for Jeffrey in the cafeteria at lunchtime, and he
attacked
him.”

Since Jeffrey had a head start on being almost as big as his old man, I was finding that hard to believe. The kid looked like he could play for the Chicago Bears, for Christ’s sake. Well, okay, not the Bears—but definitely high school varsity.

“Mr. Hastings. I told you that I would get to the bottom of this. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to lead this discussion.” At least that shut the turd up. Hughes sounded calm, but his jaw was a little tight, and his cheeks were tinged a bit red. I wondered how much trouble Hastings had been giving the poor guy.

The other two people on our side of the desk sat beyond Hastings and son. A mousy-looking woman had an arm around what I guessed was her son. The boy looked smaller than Grant, but it was hard to tell while he was huddled under her arm. Messy black hair obscured his face, and I couldn’t get a good look at him at all.

“Hughes, what’s this all about? Why are we here? What has Grant done to get in trouble?” When Hastings looked like he was going to pop off again, I gave him the death stare. Like I said, I wasn’t the biggest guy around, but I had no problem standing up for myself. I’d learned that lesson all too well back in high school. The creeps picked on the ones who wouldn’t stand up for themselves. Well, not me. I became a brassy, smart-mouthed kid in sophomore year, and I never looked back.

Sighing, Hughes gestured toward the other parents. “Before you arrived, I was explaining the school’s policy on aggressive behavior to Mr. Hastings and Mrs. Ginsburg. We have a zero-tolerance rule, which means that Grant’s actions today have resulted in a suspension for him.”

“Hah! I guess so.” Hastings just couldn’t keep his piehole shut. I was tempted to backhand him a good one.

“
And
Jeffrey will also be suspended.” Hughes looked faintly triumphant at that, I thought, and seemed to enjoy Hastings’s outraged sputtering.

“Just what the heck happened?” Ignoring the imbecile next to me, I turned toward Grant, propping my elbows on my knees. “Grant? You want to tell me what went on today?” When he simply shrugged and refused to look at me, I looked over at Mrs. Ginsburg. She was rubbing her kid’s back, whispering encouragement. “Mrs. Ginsburg?” She didn’t answer either.

“Grant and Jeffrey were fighting in the lunch hall. They each claim the other started it, and the teachers on duty at lunch didn’t see what started the incident. However, two sophomore girls did say that Shawn was involved somehow, Mrs. Ginsburg.” Hughes cocked his head at the boy’s mother. “We need Shawn to talk to us, ma’am.”

“Stupid bitch.” Jeffrey’s mutter was more than apparent.

“Jeffrey!” Hughes barked out the word.

“Hey! You tell your kid to keep his trap shut.” I stood up, looming over Hastings, getting up close and personal. “You don’t let him talk to the kid’s mother like that.” I wasn’t surprised when the so-called father kept his lip zipped, but the kid gave me a malevolent glare.

Little Jeffy snarled at me. “I wasn’t talking to her.”

I looked over at Hughes, wondering what he was going to do about it.

“Jeffrey. You won’t speak like that in my office or in this school.” Sighing, the school administrator turned to Mrs. Ginsburg with something like sympathy on his face. “Shawn needs to speak up, Mrs. Ginsburg.”

Lifting one hand, Mrs. Ginsburg brushed the hair away from her kid’s face. “Shawn?” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “You have to answer Mr. Hughes.”

Slowly sitting up straight, Shawn let out a big sigh as he raised his head. I was surprised at how pretty he was, though it looked like he had a bruise along his jaw. I immediately felt sympathetic. That had to be hard on a teenage boy. I snuck a glance at my nephew, wondering if I had something else to worry about. Just what the hell was going on here?

When Shawn finally raised what turned out to be bright blue eyes, I looked a little closer.
Wait a minute. Just wait one damned minute.

“Grant was trying to help me.”

The soft, soprano voice cinched it. Shawn wasn’t a boy at all. He was a she. I mean, she was a girl. Now I frowned at Grant. Okay, maybe I didn’t have to worry the kid was gay, but now I had to worry about him and girls?

“Jeff, he…” Shawn ducked her head again, biting her lip.

I could see Grant’s aborted movement, like he wanted to reach out to her. My eyebrows went up. Was the kid playing hero?