The Hustle (Irreparable #4) (22 page)

I shake my head, watching them run out of the room. “Well shit, dude,” I say to Brady. “They don’t need us anymore. Let’s get them a backpack and send them to Europe.”

He laughs, handing me a beer as I sit at the table. Tori takes Little A upstairs for a bath.

“They’re thick as thieves those two,” Brady says, as I drain half my beer. “They remind me of us when we were kids.”

“Yeah.”

“How are you doing?” Brady asks.

“Each day gets a little easier,” I answer, although in truth, some days are difficult in a way that makes me feel like I can’t continue. But I have Javier, so giving up isn’t an option.

“I’m proud of you,” Brady says quietly before taking a swig of his beer.

His approval brings on an involuntary smile, but then I frown. “I have a long way to go still.”

“And your family will be here for you.” Lifting my beer, I nod and then clink bottles with him before finishing it off. “Shall we go watch the boys rock out?” He stands. “I’ll warn you, though, you may want earplugs.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

I hate the way he frowns with a hint of disappointment before he walks away. He doesn’t have a clue how regret strangles me every day or how it feels to hold his son as he cries for a mother he’ll never have. Actually, the latter, he does understand, but when Drew’s mom split, he had Tori. I have no one. There are times I just need a minute to compose myself. To put on the mask that hides the weaknesses I don’t want Javier to see.

If I’m strong, Javier’s strong. And I need him to be strong. I need him to continue to color my world with brilliant colors. If I steal his rainbow, we’ll succumb to sorrow and he won’t continue to thrive.

The thing with kids is they love with their whole heart. They don’t choose who they let in and that leaves them prone to feeling what we’re feeling. The only way to save him pain is to pretend it’s not there and some days the task is harder than others.

Month Six . . .

I
drop Javier off at the private school he attends with Andrew and head to the office. My morning starts off with a two-hour board meeting, which consists of the same monotonous topics we discuss monthly.

Once at my desk, I answer a call from an angry client. Mr. Donaldson called to complain about losing a small fortune, investing in a company I’d advised him would flop. Although I remind him he chose to ignore me, he continues to rant about his future expectations. I grit my teeth, silently shouting how in the future he should listen to the people he pays to advise him. He hangs up without affording me the opportunity to suggest he take his business elsewhere.

The number to the school pops up on my cell phone and my heart instantly races with concern. I live in constant fear that something will happen to Javier when we’re apart. I answer the phone, attempting to breathe through my anxiety.

“Mr. Hunter, this is Mrs. Jones, the guidance counselor at Javier’s school.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yes, but Javier and your nephew were involved in an incident at school with another boy at recess. I’m going to need you to pick them up. I tried to reach Andrew’s parents, but they’re not answering.”

“What happened?”

“I was hoping to discuss that in person.”

“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“We’ll see you then. Thank you.”

Before leaving, I let my secretary know I’ll be out of the office for the afternoon. When I try to reach Brady or Tori, their phones go to voicemail. Then I remember Brady’s in the studio working on Second Chance’s next album and Tori planned to go with him today. Most likely their phones are off to avoid distractions.

As I drive to the school, various scenarios run through my mind. I should have made Mrs. Jones tell me what happened over the phone. Attempting to guess is brutal, as is finding a parking spot at the school. I’m five minutes later than I told Mrs. Jones I would be. A spot finally opens up and I park and go inside.

Andrew and Javier sit side by side in the lobby as I come through the door. They glance at me, wearing expressions like scolded puppies. I let out a laugh as I stare at them, reminded of a time my father came to pick me and Liv up after we started a food fight in the cafeteria. Actually it was Liv who started it. At least that was my story then and I’m still sticking with it.

I speak with the secretary, who escorts me into Mrs. Jones office. I’m greeted by a petite brunette in her late forties. She stands and shakes my hand before offering me a seat. I feel like I’m back in elementary school, as though I’m in trouble as I stare across the desk greeted with concern and displeasure.

“I’m very sorry for your loss. I’m sure Javier losing his mother has been very difficult for both of you.”

“You have no clue how difficult,” I answer, annoyed with her. “Please save me the concerned pleasantries and tell me why the boys are being sent home.”

The look on her face confirms what an ass she thinks I am, and if I thought she was offering genuine condolences, I would care. Since the day Javier started this stuffy-ass school, the staff’s been trying to get the details. Tori hears the rumors when she volunteers. They’re a bunch of gossiping hens and I’m not here to feed them. As Mrs. Jones stares at me with superiority, I consider telling her exactly how Maria died. It would be amusing to watch her shit herself.

“Very well, Mr. Hunter. One of the boys in our program was teasing Javier about not having a mother.” My jaw clamps tight as I wait for her to continue. “Andrew stepped in and asked the boy to stop.”

A smile forms out of pride for my nephew. “Obviously there’s more.”

She nods with her lips pursed tight. “The boy continued and Andrew punched him . . . in the face.” I have to resist standing up and fist pumping when her eyebrows rise, and she adds, “While the child’s behavior was inappropriate, I can’t condone violence for any reason. Andrew has been suspended and Javier refuses to stay at school without him.”

“Can you blame him?” I mutter under my breath.

“Mr. Hunter, this is serious. Javier is going to face these types of comments his entire life. He needs to learn how to deal with them.”

“Why?” I shout, standing up and leaning over her desk. “Why can’t the disgusting little brat who teases a child about his dead mother be dealt with?”

“He has been.”

“How?”

“We’ve sat down and we talked about appropriate behavior.” Her smile tops the ignorant bliss charts.

“Jesus lady, did you build a campfire and sing Kumbaya too? The kid’s a brat and without consequences will always be a brat. He got away with acting like a little prick; meanwhile my nephew gets suspended for sticking up to the bully.”

“You’re out of line, Mr. Hunter.

“Good, then you won’t care if I take my troublemaking kids out of here and leave.”

She nods, finally stunned into shutting the hell up. As I reach the door, she says, “When you’ve calmed down, I would like to discuss how to do what’s best for Javier.”

“I’ll decide what’s best for Javier.”

The boys remain silent as they walk to my car and climb inside. I take a moment to breathe before I settle into the driver’s seat. Regardless of how pissed I am, I have to be the model of responsibility. Given anger overpowers reason, I drive to my brother’s house without speaking.

Once inside, I tell the boys to go upstairs, sending Drew to his room and Javier to the guest room. I don’t know what the responsible, grown-up response is in this situation. So, they’re banished until Tori gets home.

“H
e did what!” Tori shouts as Brady laughs. “This isn’t funny, Brady. We have to tell him that he is never to use violence to solve a problem.”

“Fuck that!” Brady responds immediately. “We tell him good job and if the kid does it again to punch him square in the mouth.”

I try not to laugh as Tori looks seriously pissed. But come on. She married Brady and it’s no secret he’s a hot-head.

“You can’t be serious?” Tori turns her head toward me. “A little help here, Tug.”

“Oh, you don’t want to hear what I have to say. I considered organizing a parade in Drew’s honor.”

Brady high fives me as Tori shakes her head, grumbling about what immature idiots we are.

“The two of you need to let me handle this. Kids can be cruel. The boys need to learn how to deal with it and talk it out.”

“Bullshit, Tor!” I snap. “Kids need to learn not to be little assholes that bully other kids.”

“And they learn when they get popped in the mouth,” Brady adds, high-fiving me again. “Worked for me and Tug. Remember that douche that used to harass you?”

“That was Jesse,” I say, reminding him the
douche
is his best friend.

“See, it worked out.” He laughs, looking at Tori. “One shot to the mouth and now look at us.”

“Jesse’s still a douche,” Tori jokes.

“Yeah, but not to Tug.”

Tori holds the side of her head, groaning loudly, which makes me and Brady laugh more.

“The two of you are impossible. I will speak with Mrs. Jones and the boys and resolve this without any more fights breaking out.”

We ignore that she calls us both morons as she leaves the room.

“Did a full-on fight break out?” Brady asks, grinning.

“No. I’m pretty sure Drew just laid the little shit out.”

“The punk deserved it.”

“Yeah.” I grab a beer from the fridge and twist the cap off. “He needs his mom.”

“He’s gonna be all right.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m glad he has Tori at least.”

“Have you tried dating?” I suck back a large swallow of beer without answering. “It’s been over six months.”

“I’m not ready.”

My dick is more than ready, but my heart’s put the brakes on women. How would I even begin to explain Javier and what happened to Maria? Who in their right mind would want to date me? Not to mention, I won’t bring a woman into Javier’s life unless it’s serious. And serious and I don’t exactly know each other.

Month Eight . . .