Page 6

6

*NOT* JACK

EVIE – “THE brUTE” – KINCAID

Several weeks later

E xhausted, groaning, and slumping at my desk, I flex my aching feet and beg Laine to pass the vodka that neither of us actually have.

We’d get fired in a hot second if we were stashing hard liquor in our desk drawers.

Rolling her eyes, Laine pulls up a chair and lays out her foot-long sandwich, and as soon as she unwraps it and tosses a green pepper into her mouth, she repeats my groan and slumps. “Vodka sounds so good right now. I wish! It’s only lunchtime, and we still have a whole afternoon before freedom.” Chewing like a common cow in pasture, she narrows her eyes. “I bet none of my kids studied for their quiz.”

“Do you remember when we were eleven, and we hated pop quizzes? Do you remember how we planned to egg Ms. Laster’s house?”

Gritting her teeth, she nods. “I remember.”

I have nightmares about my kids. “Do you think any of the kids will egg ours?”

“God, I hope not. I don’t have the energy for cleaning dried egg on my weekend. Please, God.” Dropping her sandwich and turning her eyes to the ceiling, she prays. “Please, lord. I don’t have time for that shit. ”

Sipping my Diet Coke, I snort and slap her praying hands down. “You fool.”

Scoffing, she resumes eating her giant sandwich. “Whatever. You wanna go out tonight?”

Nodding, I pat down my sensible work slacks, with my sensible silky blouse, and tap my sensible pumps against my professional desk. My nose twitches in search of the jewelry I can’t wear at work, and my face feels all but naked with the light layers of mascara and not much else.

“Uh-huh. I’m desperate for a night out.” I enjoy getting dressed up. I enjoy finding the other me; the wilder, freer version. It’s exhausting being this prima ballerina, Ms. Sensible five days a week. Weekends with the girls are my time to relax.

“188?”

Smiling, I think of the last time I was there. The man I kind-of-met. “Of course. It’s a great club. The new owners have really cleaned it up.”

Laine laughs. “How would you know? We never stepped foot in there before the new owners got it.”

“The guys told me.” Shrugging, a part of me wonders if the hot guy was the owner. He had keys to an office – that much, I know. “They said it used to be owned by some shady people. They sold drugs and stuff through that place, but now it’s clean and full of bouncers keeping it under control.”

“Eh.” She pops a long piece of purple onion between her lips. “The bouncers are hot. The servers are hot. The dancers are hot. Hey! Did you ever hear back from that guy you met?”

“God, no! We didn’t even exchange names. Jesus. I was not going out to become a stage five clinger just because the guy had sexy arms.”

Lifting her lips wolfishly, she kicks my foot under the desk. “Didn’t even exchange names. You dirty, dirty girl. It was good, though, right? He was a gentleman?”

“A gentleman?”

“He let you finish first, right?”

Laughing, I wish again for my makeup to mask the blush rushing to my cheeks. “Yeah. It was so good.” And a lot dirty.

Chuckling, Laine takes another giant bite of her chicken sub, then drops the rest back in the paper packaging and wraps it up. “Alright. Jess and I will come over to yours and get ready. You wanna call Kari, or me?”

“I’ll just text. She’s not on shift tonight, so we’re clear. In the meantime, I have a parent-teacher meeting to survive.”

“Oh, God. Who with? ”

“Evie Kincaid got in a fight.”

“Shiiiiit.” Laine groans and brushes her hands as though to say she’s done with me. “Good luck with that. Say it gently, then duck and run before her dad chokes you out.”

Choking on my lunch, I spit a soggy chunk of bread onto my desk and clap my chest. “Laine! You’re such an idiot!” I cough. “Jesus. I’m sure they’re nice.” I hope. Choking me out is illegal, right? “Maybe we should do it in the cafeteria… you know, witnesses and all that.”

Laughing, she slaps my thigh and stands. “If you don’t survive, can I have your Pokémon collection? I still didn’t get that you’re-gonna-die-achu one . ”

“Get out of my classroom!” I throw my bottlecap at her head. “Go! You’re a terrible friend!”

“Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid.” Like the professional adult I pretend to be, I step back to allow the couple entry. “Come on in. Please take a seat.”

We’re in my classroom – not the cafeteria – twenty minutes after the final bell of the day, and there’s a notable lack of witnesses.

If I die today, at least the last thing I see will be Aiden Kincaid’s silver-gray eyes, and his stunning blonde wife with the icy-blue gaze.

I mean, shit! If I must die, this is an aesthetically pleasing way to go.

“Thanks for your time,” the sexy beast – aka Aiden – rumbles. Pulling out a chair for his wife, all chivalrous and shit , he sends me into a silent swooning frenzy.

They just don’t make guys like that anymore. I mean, my brothers are like that. Their friends are like that. But since I’m not marrying any of them, and Aiden’s already hitched, there just aren’t any more chivalrous fish in my sea.

Instead, I get guys who fuck me against doors and never ask for my name.

Tina Kincaid, Evie’s mom and twin lookalike, places her handbag on the floor and takes Aiden’s beefy – and bruised-knuckled – hand in her lap. “What’s going on?” She looks between her husband’s eyes to mine. “Are we here because Evie was extraordinarily good… or bad?”

Goodbye, cruel world. Peace out. It was fun while it lasted.

“Evie’s a really good student, Mrs. Kincaid. She listens. She’s polite.” And because she’s not in the room with us right now, “She’s witty as hell. She has me laughing behind my paperwork more often than not. ”

Aiden’s hard eyes turn soft. “She’s seriously sassy.”

“She can be,” I admit with a laugh. “But that’s not always a bad thing. She’s very smart–”

“But?” Tina interrupts.

Sighing, I mentally catalogue the Pokémon cards I do actually own. “ But she got in a fight. She, ah…” Damn, how do I explain this? I don’t actually think the girl was in the wrong. But it would be especially detrimental to my career if I admitted as much…

“What was it about?” Aiden asks angrily. “Who was involved?”

“Ah, her cousin, Lucy, was shoved by a sixth-grade boy. He’s big for his age. Quite a bit bigger than Lucy and Evie, but he shoved her against the lockers…”

“That little fu–”

Tina brings her hand down on her husband’s broad thigh in warning. “Please continue.”

“Well, I just so happened to walk into the hall when…”

“When?”

“Well…” I brace myself for the explosion of snowflake denials. “…Evie kicked him in the head.”

No anger. No explosions. But Aiden’s plump lips twitch with suppressed humor. Picking up a stack of paperwork the way I have to do a million times a day when Evie’s being inappropriate – and funny – I shuffle them and bring them up to hide my smile.

I’m not allowed to laugh.

And I’m definitely not allowed to cheer her on when she gives sixth-grader Toby a piece of his own medicine.

“Is she being suspended?” Tina asks seriously.

“Um, no. I stepped in before anyone got hurt.” Too hurt. “I separated them, sent them both to detention. The boy’s parents have already come in for their meeting; no one will be suspended… this time.” I stop and consider my words. Please don’t get me fired. Please don’t get me fired. “It’s unbelievably unprofessional for me to say this, Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid, but he had it coming. He was relentless, this wasn’t the first time he’s been picking on those girls, and since Evie stepped in, I get the feeling he won’t bother Lucy again. But,” I add when Tina’s frame relaxes, “if he does , and if Evie retaliates, they’ll both be suspended. My bullied middle-school-self might think he got what he deserved, and revenge served up by a girl is that much sweeter, but my degree and the promise I made to this school says she can’t do it again. ”

“We understand,” Tina answers. “Thank you for looking out for our girls.”

My heart beats anew at the lack of shouted ‘how dare you?!’ and ‘let me talk to your superior!’

A lot of parents take issue with being called into school. They cop an attitude when I suggest their cherub isn’t quite as angelic as they think he is. Most argue that their snowflake did not retaliate, or that the other child provoked it. My personal favorite is: at my young age, I couldn’t possibly understand the intricacies of gifted children and their need to let off a little steam.

Toby’s parents said every single one of those things… and I took perverse pleasure in seeing the boy twitch when Evie walked by his locker this afternoon.

“Anyway.” Standing in my sensible heels, I gesture toward the door. “You’re free to go. I’ll be speaking with the other Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid, too. Lucy’s mom and dad. But don’t worry. Everything’s fine. You keep teaching your daughters to stand up for themselves, and I’ll do my bit and try to stop the bullying in between marking papers.”

Smiling his God-gifted panty-dropper smile, Aiden’s eyes meet mine, but – unfortunately for me – his hand remains wrapped around his wife’s.

I think he’s into her.

“I think we like you. Last year, Evie’s teacher was a crotchety old cow. We didn’t… gel .”

Mrs. Grober… I didn’t gel with her, either.

“Thank God she retired,” he continues. “We appreciate that you’re not quite so… crotchety.”

I laugh and step around my desk. “You’re welcome. I mean, if Evie’s in the wrong, I won’t shield her. Funny or not, she can’t be a bully, either. But, I’ve never had a problem with her. She has a brutal knowledge on right and wrong, good and bad. She’s a great ally, but I fear, if she ever turns on me, she might be my downfall.”

When Tina laughs – and neither of them contradict me – I shake my head and step toward the door. “Don’t worry, Mr. and Mrs. Kincaid. I’ll always stand up for the kid in the right. Somehow, even kicking kids in the head, Evie still ends up on the right side.”

“Fairness is all we can ask for.” Stopping at the door and extending her hand, Tina takes mine and makes me wish I was as beautiful as she was. “Thank you again. We appreciate your time.”

“You’re so welcome.” Holy squee! Aiden shakes my hand. “Um.” I clear my throat. “Your daughter’s really cool, so good job.”

Standing in front of the mirror and concentrating on my makeup, I smudge the eyeshadow, draw in the cat eyes, and smile as I transform from middle-school teacher to the weekend me.

Swapping out my jewelry – unclasping my elegant gold chain and single pearl drop earrings, and replacing them with leather wrist bands, silver bangles, dangling earrings, and the single nose ring – I poke my tongue out and briefly consider a tongue piercing.

I won’t.

I wouldn’t be able to hide it so easily, but it’s fun to consider.

Finishing my decorations and grinning at the fun jangling noises my bracelets make, I move onto straightening my already straight hair, and when I’m done, I mess it up again until it’s sexy, not just messy.

Tearing off a plaid pyjama shirt and revealing my naked torso, I smile at more bling and the hidden ink I have covering one side of my body.

These are much easier hidden. Little secrets that I can carry around with me, even when wearing my sensible clothes.

My entire left ribcage is covered in swirling flowers, birds, trees. With copyright violations galore, I have ripped lyrics and book quotes woven in everywhere.

I take out what could only be described as a scrap of slinky black material. With thin straps to hold it around my neck and another thin strap to hold it all together at the small of my back, there’s not a whole lot more to it.

A strong gust could probably get me arrested for public indecency… my brothers would not love that.

Smiling as I pull the soft fabric on, I fasten the ties and admire the way the black fabric contrasts with my fair skin. I’m not an egotist, and I definitely have my self-doubts – not everyone can be as beautiful as Evie’s mom – but I’ve always been aware of my slim waist, my delicate frame, my narrow hips.

I know men appreciate my shape, and I can’t say I’ve ever hated the attention.

Pulling tiny leather shorts over a tinier lace thong, then thigh high boots that when being zipped – or unzipped – send seductive tingles through my body, I smile at my finished reflection in the mirror.

If any of my school kids ever saw me like this, they’d never believe it was me.

Picking up my cell and groaning at the forty-three messages – forty three is not an exaggeration – I open the group chat that’s always blowing up my phone, and grin at the rapid-fired texts zinging across my screen.

Jess and Laine are almost ready. They’ll meet us at the club. Kari’s brother is being a grump, so she’s coming out after he leaves to meet up with the guys.

Grabbing my purse and heading into the hallway, the second I step into the kitchen, I come to a screeching stop at my brother’s feral glare.

“Nope.” Standing over the sink and stuffing a sandwich in his face, he brushes crumbs from his shirt and glares. “Take your ass back upstairs and try again. You forgot to get dressed.”

I roll my eyes. “I am dressed.”

“Ah, no, you’re not. I can see half your body. And side boob.”

“I look good, huh?” I spin, just to annoy him. “This is a new top.”

“It’s a new waste of money. You could’ve made that top out of toilet paper.”

Shrugging, I walk past and condescendingly pat his shoulder. I’m not scared of my brothers. I don’t hide Weekend-Me from them, I just try and minimize their exposure, to minimize the lectures that come so freely as soon as they see me.

“Are you working tonight?”

“Mmhmm,” he grunts. “I’ll be around. Don’t let me catch you up to no good.”

“I’m never up to no good, X. I just like to dance with the girls.”

“Yeah, and guys like to watch you dance with the girls.” He stops with a sigh. “Why can’t you wear a sweater? And pants. And maybe a beanie and socks while you’re at it.”

“Because I like to look pretty. Relax.” I squeeze his hand as I pass back across the room. “I’m not sixteen anymore. I’m a grown woman. I even have a job. Parents trust me to teach their kids.”

“You don’t look like any teacher I ever saw, Brat. I don’t remember any of my teachers ever showing off ink and side boob.”

“That’s because you had Mrs. Grober.” I shiver as images of the old woman’s snaggleteeth and lazy eye flood my brain. “ And Mrs. Burns. That’s a double whammy of unfortunate.”

He shudders dramatically. “Crotchety old bitches.”

Laughing, I bump him aside so I can reach into the fridge. “You’re not the first person to say that today.”

Taking out a glass bottle of cranberry juice – because I’m proactive, and all that – I prepare my kidney for the impending workout I’ll be inflicting upon it soon .

“Just be good, okay? And be safe.” He picks up a dark hat from the table and pulls it on low over blue eyes. “I’ll be working all night, but you can call me any time and I’ll pick you up. Call any of us, we’ll be there in two minutes.”

“Thanks. The guys will be at the club, too, so relax.”

Shaking his head, he leans in and drops a gentle kiss on my cheek. “Love you, Brat.”

“Love you, too. Stay safe. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Walking into the club – alone – at an hour that would break my brothers’ hearts, I have barely two seconds of seclusion before I walk into a wall of blonde twin-ness and a drink being pressed into my hand.

Turning, Jess hugs me tight, since we haven’t seen each other in a whole day, then Laine does the same and clinks my glass with hers.

“Drink up, pussycat. We’re free.”

Grinning, I bring the tiny straw to my lips. “Thank you, darling. This is exactly what I was looking for.”

“How’d your meeting go?”

“I didn’t die!”

“Huzzah!” Laughing, Laine thrusts her glass forward for another tap.

“What meeting?” Shouting over the live music, Jess leans in close. “Why’d you nearly die?”

“I had a meeting with a student’s mom and dad today. For fighting.”

“Not just any mom and dad,” Laine teases. “She was all alone with a Kincaid.”

I roll my eyes. “A Kincaid and his wife.”

Jess’s eyes grow wide. “Oh my God. Which one? Those guys are hot as hell.”

“Too bad they’re all married,” Laine complains. “I sure enjoy watching those guys on TV. But now their seats are filled with women and babies. Such a waste.”

Jess snorts. “They’re all easily ten years older than us. A little bit out of our group …”

“Ten years older only makes them mid-thirties,” Laine argues. “I’d do them. Any one of them. Hell, I’d do all three… Four?” She shrugs. “I’d do all four at the same time if I wasn’t afraid of them breaking me like a twig. Or more accurately, if I wasn’t afraid of their wives breaking me. ”

“Ha!” Jess laughs. “I heard the women fight, too. There’ll be no husband stealing.”

Clicking my tongue and thinking about Evie Kincaid, I silently confirm the women do know how to fight.

Even the eleven-year-olds.

“Guess I’ll have to find my own, then. I’m sure there are still some hot guys left if I look super hard.”

“Don’t have to look too hard,” Laine murmurs. Glancing over my shoulder, her seductive lips lift into a filthy grin. “I’m still pissed he zeroed in on you and not me. I just know he knows what he’s doing.”

“Hmm?” Lifting my brow and peeking over my shoulder the way women have been doing since the club scene began, warmth pools in my belly at the sight of him, at the sight of Club-188-Guy, and the reminder of what his body did to mine.

Like he was waiting for me to turn, his arctic blue eyes pierce mine, but his large, skillful hands squeeze someone else’s ass. Her back is to me, his lips near her ear as though he’s telling her secrets, but his eyes lock me in and refuse to let me go.

I watch his lips move, her hands explore his chest, his hands knead her ass. I’m not embarrassed as I watch them, as I study his muscular, broad shoulders, or as his eyes graze my naked back and long legs.

Discreetly pressing my thighs together to quench the dull throb and memories from weeks ago, his eyes snap to the movement and send my pulse speeding.

“Oh, lawwwwwd,” Laine murmurs. “Please tell me you’ll let him take you back for another seven minutes in heaven. Then maybe just FaceTime me or somethin’. I wanna watch.”

Tearing my eyes from his, I turn back to my girlfriends and smile. “You’re a freak. And no! I’m never letting you watch me have sex.” Sucking up half my cocktail in one go, I beg for liquid courage, and maybe that seven minutes.

I’m not embarrassed to see him, I’m not even embarrassed to see him with another girl, but damn, his eyes make my knees weak.

“Hey, I can appreciate a good lady body as much as the next chick,” Laine argues. “You’re hot, and I wouldn’t even be embarrassed to see your ass. As long as it’s his big man hands slapping your cheeks pink, I don’t even mind.”

“Seriously, you’re a freak.”

“No, I see where she’s going with it,” Jess – the quieter, shyer, platinum blonde twin – agrees. “I’d be into watching. I could pretend it’s me and not you. He’s sexy as hell; it wouldn’t be a hardship to be touched by a man that looks like him.”

Laughing at my idiot friends, I shake my head and enjoy the buzz of my chugged liquor. Dancing, drinking, hanging with my friends, I spend hours being watched, and hours trying not to watch him dance with other girls and flirt with the female bartenders.

Giving one single smile and wave when my brother catches my eye, I acknowledge that I see him, that he sees me, that I’m safe and being responsible, then the girls and I gravitate toward the blind spot we found in this club.

The guys can’t see us, but we can see them.

It’s perfect.

It’s a shame the only nightclub options in this town are Club 188 or Rhinos. The stools at Rhinos will leave a girl with syphilis.

My options are watchful brothers or syphilis.

Yay.