“I’m telling you that your daughter is on the verge of being expelled,” I say. “I’m doing everything I can to help her, but I need your signature on the counseling form.”
“She’ll figure out that’s a bad idea real soon,” he says. “Kid don’t really listen. This shit’s on her.” While I hadn’t expected Cheyenne’s father to be a biker—much less to be Forsaken—my commitment to be someone who has her back doesn’t wane.
“That’s the problem. She’s a kid, not an adult. She needs guidance and advice and to have consequences for poor behavior. She needs boundaries. She needs you to tune in,” I snap, surprising myself with my vigor.
“Bitch, Chey’s my kid, and I know what she needs. What she doesn’t need is your uppity ass coming to her home and harassing her about shit. Next time you show up here, it better be to drop to your knees and to suck my dick.”
My cheeks heat, and my mouth drops open. I’m stunned into silence and embarrassment to the point of being unable to respond. Suddenly, everything makes much more sense—from Mr. Beck handing me the case and telling me not to pay it too much attention to the other admins cautiously avoiding talking with me about Cheyenne and her absentee father.
“Excuse me…,” I say, unable to word anything else. Grady leans forward and smirks at me as he invades my space.
“I bet you’d like that, to suck my dick,” he says in that ridiculously husky voice.
“You’re disgusting,” I say and lean forward as well. It doesn’t matter that I’m practically shaking in my pumps. I won’t let him see that. Going for mildly professional, I say, “Don’t speak to me like that.”
“Or what?” he says.
“As a representative of the high school, I have the duty to report any conditions students are living in which may worry me. Please don’t tempt me to report your behavior.”
“Report me, file all the paperwork you’d like. See where it goes.”
“Don’t worry,” I say, “I will.” And with that, I storm off the porch and down the drive to my car. I start her up and peel out with such anxiety that I can barely breathe until I’m back on school property.
That was such a bad idea.
Chapter 2
Grady
THE TANG OF cheap whiskey rests on my tongue, practically sizzling with its ferocity. It’s been a long time since I’ve drunk as much as I have in the past few days, but it’s also been a long time since I’ve had to bury a friend. And fuck this shit.
Leaning over the solid, wooden table that sits in the center of the room we hold our club meetings in, I wrap my fingers around the mostly empty bottle of whiskey. From across the table, our charter’s vice president, Wyatt, shakes his head. His long hair flops over his shoulders with the movement, and the lines around his eyes fold as his eyes squint. I tighten my grip on the bottle, daring the bastard before me to try and stop me from finishing it off. As far as I’m concerned, he can take his judgment and suck his own dick with it.
In the background, Jim, our charter’s president, goes on and motherfucking-on about the man we’re burying. He was a good man. He made us proud. He was a brother, and today we put him to rest. It’s always the fucking same when we have to lay a brother down—Chief being the sixth one I’ve had the motherfucking pleasure of putting six feet under. Because with the way shit has been going lately, a cheap pine box is a goddamn gift.
With one quick glance at my empty glass, I lift the bottle to my lips, tilt it back, and suck down as much whiskey as I can before my throat contracts and I’m forced to set the bottle down. A fiery burn erupts in my mouth and throat as the liquor slides down and settles in my gut. I suck in a deep breath and shake off the shiver that runs down my spine. In the background, I hear Jim asking us each to pour ourselves a drink and to raise our glasses in celebration of Chief’s life.
The man to my left makes no sound as he pours himself a glass of shitty bourbon. Ian’s always been a quiet one—stoic and tortured most of the time. It’s the man on his other side, Ryan, who clanks the bottle against his glass and spills a few drops on the wooden table top. I turn just slightly to my left and eye the droplets as they invade the clean surface. Ruby, Jim’s Old Lady, did a lot to clean this place up for today. I sat with her, just yesterday, as she scrubbed the stains out of our chairs and wiped down the table. She wanted everything to be clean for today. And her asshole stepson just made a mess.