Nick stayed silent until Gus nudged him.
“Sorry… what exactly do I have for input in this particular case?” Nick pictured a plethora of scenarios pointing toward honor killings, and Sharia Law. He couldn’t think of anything of a helpful nature to add. “Gus and I just left that third world cesspool, where women are forbidden to do anything other than exist. If your teacher’s in trouble, she needs to report it to the police, Danger.”
Jean turned, hands on hips, which Deke recognized as a stopping point. He sat next to her. “Remember when Mom forced you to help that Highway Patrolman who was getting beaten? You said, ‘You made me do what was right, and I don’t often know what’s right anymore’. Remember?”
Damn it! This kid has me down pat, and she remembers everything, Nick thought. He made placating gestures while Gus remained in smiling neutral, not having heard about Nick’s saving a police officer. “That was different, kid. Involving ourselves in private family stuff is a sure way for me to earn a long prison term.”
Jean stomped her right foot, sending Deke to the other side behind Nick. “I like Ms. Kader. I don’t want her uncle or anyone else running her over with a car, or making her disappear. Please, Nick?”
Nick was lost. Jean was the spitting image of her Mom, right down to the hands on hips posture. He knew instinctively nothing he did in protection of this teacher would turn out right. The only solutions he had were deadly ones. “I’ll meet with your teacher, and get a feel for the situation. Can I at least start at that point?”
Jean relaxed her stance, as if realizing she had been penning Nick into a corner. She abandoned her stance and hugged Nick. “Sorry, Dad. That would be great if you could do something for her. She’s scared. I can tell.”
Nick disengaged and knelt down with Deke moving in to put his face into the one on one side bar. Jean giggled, and hugged Deke. “I’ll do what I can, kid. I promise. Don’t hold it against me if there isn’t anything possible I can do. The one we have to worry about is this unfeeling buffoon, Gus. He’ll put out so many negative vibes on this mission, it may poison our endeavor.”
Jean clapped her hands at the initial look of incredulity flowing over Gus’s features, followed by the furrowed brow, tight lipped mask of retribution. He pointed at Jean. “Laugh at old Gus, huh? You may not be born of this wanker’s blood, but there is no doubt the two of you are joined in the cosmic dimension of the disturbed. I thought we were friends, Danger.”
Jean then hugged Gus. “We are more than friends, Uncle Gus. I’m going to grow up and be like Dad. I’ll go on missions just like you two.”
Nick and Gus exchanged looks of unintended horror. Jean knew what Nick did. She understood he killed people. Neither man doubted that after the wild trip across country she had accompanied Nick on. The fact she mentioned following in Nick’s career type shoes rattled both men into a somber state. Nick recovered the fastest, gripping Jean’s shoulders.
“Look… honey… we both know I’m a thing you should never strive to mimic in any way, shape, or form. You know the truth concerning my past. If you want to follow something I do, then write novels. You have a great imagination, and I will help you get into the admittedly ‘who you know’ world of publishing. Don’t get ambitions for a horrid world you only recently survived in. Selective memory is a terrible tool for making life choices with, kid.”
Jean smiled disconcertingly at her stepfather, stroking Nick’s cheek. “I know what you are and what you’ve done, Dad. I like your way. I don’t hide, and I don’t fear everything around me. Your way works. If I were older… I’d help Ms. Kader. When I get older, I’m going to help people like you did Mom and me. I want you to teach me everything.”
Nick hugged Jean to him within a kaleidoscope of visions, both good and bad. Never in his wildest dreams did he consider his decidedly unctuous career infecting anyone, especially Jean. “You and your Mom are the greatest things that have ever happened to me, Danger. If I could pick something to take from me as a skill, it would be novel writing, not murder.”
Jean grasped Nick’s face within her hands. “You don’t murder, Dad. You help people. You are the first person other than Mom that I trust with all my heart. You can do things no one else can do. I…I know you don’t have feelings for people like-”
“I love you and your Mom,” Nick said with conviction. “I am not a superhero, honey. I have black faults unmatched by anyone. Please… let’s practice the novel side of me, rather than the demon side when you consider emulation, little one.”
“I’ll think it over. Will you talk with Ms. Kader?”
“Fine. We’ll have our own personal parent teacher interlude. You do understand she won’t want our help, and she’ll play us off as delusional, right?”