Page 9 of Someone to Have
I start to step away, then pause. “What about Taylor?”
He looks confused.
“Your youngest daughter? Did Taylor get in trouble?”
His craggy features soften a bit. “Tink was as good as a girl can get. She has the coordination of a newborn foal, but we didn’t worry about her for a second.”
I nod, unsurprised, as he continues, “Despite the gray hairs Toby gave me, he turned out fine. As far as I can tell,so did you. It’s a real good thing you did, coming home to help your sister and bringing your nephew to Skylark. This town is a great place to grow up.”
“I hope Skylark works its magic for Rhett.”
I know what it’s like to see things growing up that no child should, and I’m guessing my nephew has experienced more than his share of trauma.
Of course, Rhett’s not exactly unburdening his soul around the dinner table. Hell, he pitched a fit when I told him he couldn’t eat in front of the TV. But I recognize the shadows in his dark eyes. I know what they mean. And I won’t stop kicking myself for letting him down—both him and my sister.
“Bring the boy over for Sunday supper,” Marty tells me. “I’d like to meet him.”
His tone sounds slightly ominous, but I nod. Rhett could use a dose of Marty Maxwell tough love. My variety doesn’t seem to be making a difference.
Marty takes another call as I climb into my truck and point it toward Skylark High, letting my mind wander as I drive.
It doesn’t surprise me that Taylor Maxwell was a good girl growing up. She’s got the look even now—creamy skin, a healthy glow in her cheeks, shiny hair, and big Disney-princess eyes.
She’s the type of girl who gave me a wide berth in high school, even when I caught them staring as I came out of the locker room after a game. And it was clear from her comments at the bar Sunday night that good girls grow up to be better women. Women who are smart enough to stay away from bad boys—even the reformed kind.
“Manwhore” is how Toby described me. Even though it hasn’t been true for a long time, I didn’t bother to contradict him. Would he believe me if I said I got tired of the bar scene and random hook-ups? Does it matter since my time here has a built-in end date? Although despite Taylor’s opinion of me, I can say forcertain I never gave an STD to any of my partners. I’m way more careful than that.
Christ, I’m practically a monk at this point. The hard-partying days of my youth got old several years ago. Yeah, I’m one of the most successful players in the German league, but there are always younger guys coming up the ranks looking to be crowned the new king.
I might not be a manwhore, but Toby was right about warning his sister away from me. Good girls aren’t my thing.
I find a parking space near the school’s front entrance and take the steps two at a time. The security guard spends an inordinate amount of time studying my ID, like Rhett’s an apple that doesn’t fall far from the troublemaker tree.
Glancing down at myself, I figure that’s a good thing. I’m coated in dust, my canvas jacket streaked with dirt. Who knows what kind of critter scat might be streaked across me after wriggling through that cramped crawl space? Maybe I should have stopped home to wash my face and change into a clean shirt, but it’s too late now. I run a hand through my hair to tame it and grimace when my fingers come out gritty.
I’m buzzed in, and a nice lady at the reception desk explains that the assistant principal will be with me in just a moment.
School offices all have the same smell—a mix of coffee, teenage bodies, and the candle that some optimistic staff member is burning to try to mask the sweat stink. It’s an odd sense of nostalgia I try not to dwell on as I await my, and my nephew’s, fate.
Suzanne Kenkel is a petite woman who I’d guess to be in her mid to late forties. She’s wearing a dark blue pantsuit, and once again I regret coming straight from the job site.
“Mr. Anderson, thank you for getting here so quickly,” she says, holding out a hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
I wipe mine on the front of my cargo pants before shaking hers. “You as well, ma’am. I’m sorry it has to be under less than ideal circumstances.”
Her eyes widen slightly, nostrils flaring.
Okay, something weird is happening, because she isn’t looking at me like she’s judging the fact that I’m a mess. She’s staring as if she wants to take me into her office and rip off my grimy clothes and not because she’s interested in laundering them.
I pull back my hand. “Can I see my nephew?” I ask, wanting to keep this interaction short and sweet.
It’s not that I have anything against older women, and she’s not wearing a wedding ring, but like I said, my manwhore status is a thing of the past. Plus, I know enough not to dip my pen in the high school ink. Rhett’s got enough to deal with, and I’m hardly a sure bet in the romance department. More like a disaster waiting to happen.
She squares her shoulders and nods. “I’ve asked the two staff members to meet us in the conference room. Rhett’s there now.”
“I’d like to see him,” I repeat, not sure of the protocol, but hell, this isn’t a police station. And for the moment, I’m the boy’s legal guardian.
“Of course.”
