Some Kind of Perfect (Calloway Sisters #4.5) (40 page)

I lean over to check his speedometer. “Can you not drive faster?”

“Yeah, let me play bumper cars with the line of fucking traffic.”

“Let’s.”

“No,” he says like I’m “fucking” crazy.

His grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Is Janie okay?” Worry darkens his features.

“The vice-principal said she was fine, but she wouldn’t offer me anymore details.” I hold my purse close to my chest and cast a heated glare out the windshield. “If she’s doing this to trick Connor and me into taking photographs in her office, I’m going to raise hell.”

“I will lose my fucking shit before you.”

Unlikely.

I raise my phone to my lips. “Call Richard,” I say into the speaker. If I put my cell to my ear, I may just throw it out the window—for no good reason other than the enjoyment of throwing something.

When the line clicks, I start speaking before he can. “Jane’s school called. We need to go in and have a conversation with the vice-principal. I don’t know why. All they said was that she’s okay, but the administration would rather ‘talk in person’—as if seeing my face will be better. The
only
thing they’ll be seeing is literal
fire
coming out of my eyes and burning them to ash.”

“Are you driving?” he asks.

I gape. “That’s the first thing you’re asking, Richard?” My voice escalates. “Our daughter’s second month in kindergarten and she’s being called to the office—an office that’s withholding information from us—and you’re asking if I’m
driving?
”

“Yes because I’d prefer to have my wife in one piece.”

I hear the sound of shuffling papers like he’s preparing to leave our house. “You can’t leave the other kids alone.”

“Clearly I wouldn’t,” he says. “I’m calling Diana and Adalene.”
Our nannies.
After an
extensive
interview process and background check, we hired these two women, both with a great deal of previous infant care experience. We only call them when we need them.

He’ll most likely leave once the nannies arrive to our house.

“Are you driving?” Connor asks again.

Ryke says, “I am.”

“Wonderful.” His dry tone is noted. “Don’t speed. I’ll be there as soon as I can, Rose. Try not to overreact. It shouldn’t be too serious or else they’d let us know.” His even-tempered voice does soothe part of my worry, but I don’t like how he’s more focused on
me
than on Jane.

“Where are your loyalties, Richard?” I test.

“With my family.”

I see what he did there. “Fine.” Before I hang up, I snap, “And I’m
hardly
overreacting.” I hit the
end call
button before he rebuts.

“Why did I have children with him?” I slip my phone into my purse. “He’s insufferable.”

Ryke rakes his hand through his hair again.

I glare. “What are you doing? Keep both hands on the wheel.”

“Fucking A.” He grabs the steering wheel. “It pains me to say this, but
he’s right
. You need to calm down.”

I scoff. “He never told me to calm down. He said not to overreact.”

“Same fucking thing.”

I flip him off.

He shoots me the finger in reply.

Maybe
his
presence is frustrating me more—or maybe I’m just naturally overwhelmed with the unknown. I want answers. I like answers. I pride myself on finding them, but the vice-principal has given me a worksheet with censored and redacted questions. How am I supposed to fill this thing out without information?

Patience
, I hear Connor.

I roll my eyes. Patience. It’s clearly not my forte.

Now I’m relying on Ryke Meadows to take me from point A to point B. He turns on the stereo and switches on a song. I can’t name the artist, but the string instruments sound like an indie or folk band.

We bump along the road, and I count the dreadful seconds that pass agonizingly slow.

The city landscape morphs into a more pastoral setting: robust trees, greenery, and lush land. Dalton Elementary comes into view, with its historic, steeple clock tower jutting from the shingled roof. The faded red brick building has two white columns by the entrance and a flagpole in the green turf.

I hastily jump out of the car before Ryke slows into the parking spot.

“I’ll wait right here,” Ryke says.

I leave my door ajar for a second. “Why?”

“I don’t want to get in the fucking way and make things worse.” He fixes his rearview mirror, which is disturbing seeing as how he’s adjusting it
after
we’ve parked.

I shift my weight, hesitating. “I need you to come with me…at least until Connor arrives.”

Now he asks, “Why?”

“Because…” I pause. “I’m really pissed, and I’m afraid of what I might say to the vice-principal. The last thing I need to do is accidentally get my daughter expelled on her second month of kindergarten.”

Can they even expel her for my behavior? I blink a couple times.
That’s a frightening prospect.
Even worse, I’m actually worried something like that might happen. What does that say about me?

My temper.

I unleash all my claws and my razor-sharp teeth when it comes to my sisters, my children—my family. I won’t back down, even when I should.

Lily is right.

I’m one of those piercing corners on the hot-tempered triad. I eye my brother-in-law, his aggression palpable in his brooding eyes.

So is Ryke.

But I’m hoping he can maintain a level-head this once. For me. Maybe it’ll be possible.

Maybe.

Ryke wavers. “I may say some fucking shit, Rose.”

“Better the foul-mouthed uncle than the witch mother.” I know it’s what they’ll call me, and since I have
many
more young children who’ll eventually attend Dalton Elementary, I can’t set every bridge on fire. For their sake.

Ryke takes the keys out of the ignition. “You’re not a witch. By Lo’s fucking definition, I’d be a witch with you.” Outspoken. Hot-headed.

“You’re not a woman. You wouldn’t be called one,” I remind him, my eyes cold.

His gaze nearly softens.

I add, “Let’s not forget that I’ve called Lo names too. We tease each other. It’s what we do.”

Ryke nods. “I’m thinking more about what my daughter is going to have to fucking deal with.”

“If she’s anything like me, you can expect at least
one
person to call her a bitch.” I tap my nail to the frame of the door. “Are you coming with me?”

He’s already climbing out of the car. “Let’s go.”

Together, we walk along the cement path to the double doors. I hope fate has good fortune in store for us. I hope that one side of the hot-tempered triad can cool off for just
one
meeting.

Is that even achievable?

* * *

“She did what?”

“Maybe you should sit down,” Mrs. Morgan-Stuart suggests for the fifth time. I’ve abandoned one of two wooden chairs that face her sleek oak desk. Ryke stands beside me like a loyal soldier, and I combat the vice-principal’s hot and heavy judgment with a scathing glare.

She treats me like a sixteen-year-old who was sent to the principal’s office, and to be precise, that situation
never
happened. I prided myself on being a model student.

“I’m not sitting down until you explain why
that
warrants a parent phone call.” I swear, if they punish her for this, I will create the mother of all fucking storms.

“She
kissed
a boy,” Mrs. Morgan-Stuart repeats.

My daughter’s first kiss was in kindergarten. Of course it was.

“And?” Ryke asks, his muscles as strained as mine.

“And it was in front of the jungle gym where other children could see. It was highly inappropriate for someone her age.”

“She’s a child,” I say.
“Children are curious, and it couldn’t have been anything more than a simple peck on the lips.”

“Regardless…it was still out in the open where other children could see and get ideas.”

I stifle this maddened noise that scratches my throat. “It was a small kiss. You’re acting like she masturbated in public.”

Mrs. Morgan-Stuart flushes red. “Mrs. Cobalt,” she scolds and avoids meeting Ryke’s gaze. Her embarrassment is unmistakable.

“Masturbation isn’t a swear word,” I rebut. “I won’t apologize for saying something we all do.”

Mrs. Morgan-Stuart is about the shade that Lily turns when she’s mortified. “I think it’s best if we wait for your husband. Mr. Meadows…you should leave.”

“She’s my niece,” Ryke refutes, the three words beyond stilted, as though he’s trying very hard not to include a
fuck
. I watch him mechanically take a seat in the chair and raise his hands like he comes in peace. Then he nods to me like
let’s go fucking easy on her.

If we must.

I settle in the chair next to Ryke. “My husband is on the way. I’d like to discuss this
now.”
I need more details.
“Did the boy kiss her back, did he run away, what else happened?” If it was an unsolicited kiss, it changes the narrative.

“He kissed her back.”

My shoulders slacken.

“According to the students, Jane and Wesley kissed a few more times on the cheek before the teacher intervened. We’ve given her entire class a stern speech about appropriate behavior between classmates, but the children are all very animated about the situation. We think it’s best that Jane go home today.”

Smoke gushes out of my ears. I swear to all that is righteous. “You’re
suspending
her over a peck on the lips?”

“Just for the day. Jane being in the school is a distraction to the other students.”

I rise out of my seat, and if Connor had been beside me, he would’ve tugged me down. Instead, Ryke is rising
with
me. I can’t think about the negative result of recruiting Ryke as a teammate.

I breathe fire. “The administration created
more
of an uproar by acting like kissing is the plague.”

“Mrs. Co—”

“She did
nothing
that’d warrant suspension.”

“Is Wesley being suspended for the day?” Ryke questions, still carefully choosing his words.

I fume silently, watching Mrs. Morgan-Stuart waste time by shifting papers in a beige folder. “Is he?” I snap.

“Wesley wasn’t the one who initiated the kiss.”

Ryke mutters under his breath, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“This is insane!” I shout. “What kind of place is this? I didn’t send my daughter to the Academy of
Kiss-and-Be-Punished
.” I’m seconds from pacing.

Ryke rubs his unshaven jaw aggressively and then drops his hand. “Look,” he says to Mrs. Morgan-Stuart, “this is kindergarten. Why not just tell them
don’t do it again
and call it a fucking day?”

She looks disgusted. “Please, watch your language.”

The slip-up was bound to happen.

Ryke turns his head, and I think he’s worried about the future when his own daughter enters kindergarten. He’s holding back with his niece, careful not to step on my toes, but if this had been Sullivan, rest assured, he’d be as volatile as me.

“Dalton has values that will be upheld,” the vice-principal says. “We’d appreciate if you talked to Jane thoroughly about what’s inappropriate for school grounds.”

“I will,” I say, “and do you know what will be on my list? Drugs, bullying, stealing, cheating,
murder.
Not a kindergarten kiss.”

“Please,” she tries to reason with me. Am I being unreasonable? “Maybe take a good look at what goes on in your house…or places your children visit.”

She went there.

Subtly, she pokes at the sex tapes of me and my husband, and the fact that my little sister is a sex addict who lives down the street. As if we’re all
so
deviant.

This is ridiculous.

“This is fucking ridiculous,” Ryke growls beneath his breath.

Thank you.

“It’d be wise to play by the school’s rules. This display is hardly putting good will towards the future of
both
your children.”

I go very still.

Ryke and I just made an utter, shitty mess of things.

[ 22 ]

September 2021

Dalton Elementary