Page 6 of A Royal Menace

“You’re not giving your classanothermath test, are you?” I ask, referring to the conversation we had on Monday morning.

“No,” she grits out, her jaw so tight, I’m afraid it might shatter. “But my students are trying toread.”

“Have you tried turning up that weird mandolin music you like to drown out the noise?” I ask, and I don’t know why I do this.

I can’t seem to help trying to get under her skin. It’s like her ire is a narcotic of which I can’t ever seem to get enough.

“Have you tried keeping your class under control?” she shoots back, then huffs. “And it’s a lute, not a mandolin.”

“Same thing,” I say just because I know it’ll give me another hit of that drug I love so much.

Her eyes widen, then narrow, and I brace for a tirade on the differences between the two instruments only to be disappointed when Callie just grits out something that sounds like “keep it down” before spinning on a heel and marching back to her classroom.

I blow out a long breath as her door closes firmly behind her, then shake my head as I walk back into my own classroom to find the students still frozen, quiet giggles slipping between pinched lips as some of them wobble unsteadily.

“Okay,” I call out, clapping my hands together once, “I’m going to institute a new rule to the race. The rule ofsilence. Ifyou make so much as a peep, you have to erase your work and start over. Everybody got it?”

A chorus of tight-lipped hums rings out around the room, and I nod and shout “Unfreeze!” The room breaks out into a chaotic, yet somehow mostly silent frenzy as the race continues. The only sounds are the squeaks of markers against the whiteboard and the shuffle of shoes on the thin carpet.

When the winning team finishes, they erupt in whispered shouts, hugging each other and jumping around. Even though the game is over, they understand the assignment––try not to disturb Miss Barnes’s class. I smile as I direct everyone to their seats, then grin even wider at the groans when I start passing out a worksheet for them to complete.

“It can’t beallfun and games,” I say. “I have to actually teach you something, too.”

They settle down as they get to work on the math problems, and I walk up and down between the desks to keep an eye on their progress and be available if anyone needs help. My mind keeps wandering to the classroom next door, however, and I can’t help but wonder if Callie is even appreciative of my efforts to keep my class quiet. Probably not. She’s probably still angry I let them get that loud in the first place.

At the end of the day, my students call out boisterous goodbyes as they file out, and I gather my things and stuff them into my messenger bag before following them out into the hall. Callie steps out of her classroom at the same time as me, and I cross my arms over my chest before quirking a brow at her. She gives me a single, grudging nod before spinning away and marching down the corridor.

A quiet laugh barks out of me. Stubborn woman.

I follow slowly behind her, and she doesn’t look back as she exits the building and crosses the parking lot to her car. Once she’s safely inside the vehicle, I head for my own car and climbinside. I check the time on my dashboard’s display when I start the engine, noting that I have time to go home and change before meeting my brother, Linc, at our favorite bar and grill for an early dinner and drinks. It’s Friday night, so we agreed to go early and beat the crowd of young twenty-somethings who fill the place later in the night.

We’re only a few years older than that crowd, but somehow, it feels like a much bigger age gap when they start getting tipsy and loud. At least, it does tome. Linc likes to call me a grumpy old man even though he’s only two years younger than me, but I know he’s secretly over the whole “party” phase of his life, too.

After a quick shower, I pull on my best jeans and a dark blue button-down, cuffing the sleeves to just below my elbows. I brush my teeth, swipe on some deodorant, and spritz on some cologne before finger-combing some styling gel into my damp hair. Satisfied with the messy style, I head out, locking the apartment door behind me.

The drive across town takes a bit longer with the five-o’clock-traffic jamming the streets, and by the time I get there, Linc is already at a table, two draft beers sweating on the lacquered wood as he stares at his phone.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” I say as I slide into the chair across the table from him.

He frowns at his phone before sliding it into his pocket, then clears his expression as he meets my eyes.

“No worries. I just got here a few minutes ago, myself. Traffic sucked.”

“Tell me about it,” I say as I lift one of the beers and take a long sip. Swallowing, I add, “So, how have you been, man? I feel like we haven’t talked in forever.”

“It’s been two weeks,” he deadpans, then bites his lip. “I was giving you some space. I know this time of year is tough for you.”

I shake my head quickly. “I’m fine.”

Two simple words that scream “I don’t want to talk about it.” Linc seems to understand, nodding before launching into a diatribe about his most recent job. He’s a professional contractor, so he’s always got stories about clients and their unrealistic expectations.

I listen with a half-smile as he rants about a particularly prickly client, but my mind soon wanders to the aforementioned taboo subject, and my mood drops. It’s been a tough couple of weeks, emotionally, and the only thing that’s really distracted me from my pain is my ongoing battle with Callie.

My lips curve into a real smile with that thought, and Linc’s flow of words stutters, snapping me out of the memory of our interactions earlier today. Linc gives me a curious look, then picks up the story where he left off. I force myself to focus on him, pushing all thoughts of Callie and…everything else…down so I can enjoy this time with my brother.

When a waiter comes by to take our orders, we request a second round of beers and a platter of chicken nachos to share. The appetizer portions here are huge, so we usually split something on nights like this.

“So, how’s it going with your grumpy neighbor?” Linc asks after the waiter leaves.

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