The Sweet Under His Skin (39 page)

Quentin frowned. "Again, why do that on purpose?"

"The rumor mill in Shanksville is that this guy shuts down the building, evicts everyone and the place has the appearance of being under construction. But he's actually letting meth cooks use the space."

Quentin's hand clenched on the phone. "What?"

"This is hearsay from the lady at Shanksville Land Titles. So I don't know for sure. But this guy's name is Tarquin Hamilton. I think the club might want to look into him."

Quentin was already nodding along. "Hell yeah, we will. Thanks, Henderson." He flipped the phone shut, headed back inside while dialing Bishop. There was a knock on the front door before he finished dialing, and he opened the inside door to admit Mandy.

Carrying a round white box with a bright pink cord as a handle, she looked absolutely pleased with herself. "Quentin," she greeted him, and he kissed her on the offered cheek while letting her into the entry.

"What you got there, Mandy?"

"It's Arielle's wig. It's done. Is she here?"

Quentin checked the hallway as he answered. "She just went in for a nap."

"Shit. I was dying to see it on her."

Quentin held up a finger. "I'll go check. I'm sure she'll be excited to know it's done."

As soon as he eased the bedroom door open Arielle turned his way on the bed, rubbing her eyes. "Is that Mandy?" she mumbled.

He grinned. "Yeah, she's a bit loud."

Arielle sat up. "Is everything okay?"

"She's got a present for you, babe."

Arielle grinned. "A present?" she asked, all cute and adorable, fidgeting with the scarf on her head.

He knew he was going to get face cramps from smiling but he didn't care. "Yeah. Come see it. She's excited to show you." Quentin moved to help her up out of bed, and she held his hand behind her as they made their way down the hall.

"Hi, Mandy," Arielle greeted her, still futzing with the scarf with her free hand.

"Sorry to wake you up, hun," Mandy apologized, as sincerely as he'd ever heard her do.

Arielle shook her head. "No worries. I hadn't fallen asleep yet."

Mandy held the box up. "It's done."

Arielle took the box with both hands, biting her lip. Quentin gave her shoulder a squeeze as she asked, "Will you wait here while I try it on?"

Mandy's smile was pleased as shit. "Of course."

As she passed Quentin to head to the washroom she was grinning, and Quentin had to give Mandy a hug once the door shut behind her. "You're making my girl smile, Mandy."

Mandy stepped back and grabbed her chin in her hand. "Pretty sure it's not just me, hun."

This time staring at herself in the mirror Arielle wasn't wincing or forcing herself to accept anything. She was staring at herself looking the same and yet totally different. She liked the wig. She really did. It was cut to just brush her shoulders, with chunky layers that made it curl under nicely while still looking thick and…real. The only difference was that the wigmaker had given her long bangs that wisped to one side. They followed the part of the wig, which sat exactly where Arielle used to part her hair. The lady remembered how she did it. Arielle covered her mouth, not wanting to cry but unable to stop.

The kindness of this was overwhelming. She didn't know how to open up and let it in. And it wasn't just the wig. She didn't know why she had been accepted so quickly and easily, but she felt herself softening to the idea that she was completely capable of having friends in this world.

In Quentin's world.

Opening her eyes, she made herself focus on the hair, head turning side-to-side, running her hand over the top and smiling in spite of her tears. Arielle dried her eyes, pulled herself together within about ten minutes and left the bathroom, watching her feet as she walked slowly down the hall and into the living room. She came around the corner, immediately hearing Mandy gasp.

"Oh, honey," the woman whispered, making Arielle look up. "That looks killer on you."

Arielle felt her nose prickle again as Mandy wrapped her up in a hug, patting her back. "Thank you," she managed to sputter.

"No problem. Glad to do it." Mandy held her at arms' length and smiled. "You're beaming, Arielle. You're giving a lot away."

Arielle ducked her head, knowing she was likely blushing now.

"Mandy? I gotta head to the clubhouse, can you—" Quentin only stopped speaking because Arielle turned around to look at him as he entered the living room, flipping his phone shut. He stopped mid-motion of shoving it in his pocket and seemed transfixed, moving to her with his eyes quite intent on her face. She didn't know what to make of that look until he grabbed her with both hands and laid a kiss on her that wasn't a good idea when she was standing up. Didn't matter though, he held her by the waist so tightly she wasn't slumping over.

"Jesus, Quentin. Let her breathe," came the sarcastic wit of Mandy, clearly not embarrassed by public displays of affection.

He let the kiss end but he kept her close, rested his forehead on hers and cupped the back of her head with one hand. "Babe," he whispered, and she felt her heart clench.

"Do you like it?" She hated how much she really needed him to answer that.

"It's hot, babe. No doubt about it. I'm just realizing you don't need hair to be gorgeous."

"Quentin…" she gasped back, not wanting to cry at that, especially with Mandy in the room.

He gave that uneven half-smile, pushing some hair behind her ear. "Gorgeous, babe. I'm going to go get you one in every color I can find." Then he let the smile go plenty naughty and kissed her again before stepping back. "I gotta get to the clubhouse. I don't wanna leave you alone, though."

"I'll stay," Mandy offered. "Until someone else gets here."

"You carrying, Mandy?"

She gave an oh please look. "Always."

Arielle was startled by that. "They're sending the prospect over. Make him stay outside. He's likely not housetrained," Quentin advised with an affectionate kiss on her forehead.

"Okay," Arielle replied, watching him walk to the door. "Is everything okay?"

He turned back and grinned. "Don't worry, baby girl, everything's good. I'll be back."

She nodded and he left her with Mandy, who was standing in the doorway, arms crossed and a wide grin on her face.

"What?" Arielle asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Nothing. I'm just happy he finally fucked you. Now, go back to your nap and I'll wait for the cavalry out here."

Arielle was going to sputter a denial, remembered she wasn't in high school anymore, then just turned on her heel to put the wig back in its box before going back to bed with a smile that only faded when sleep took over.

"Aunt Arielle?" She rolled to her back at the sound of Calvin's voice, hushed and cautious from the doorway. Smiling, rubbing her eyes with one hand, Arielle held out the other one.

"Hey, Peanut," she mumbled sleepily, and he crossed the room to take her hand. "Is everything okay?"

She yanked him into bed with her, curling him up and cuddling him like she used to about three years ago. He let her do it while whining, "Aunt Arielle."

"What? Your aunt doesn't get hugs and cuddles anymore?"

He sighed. "Fine."

"How was school?" He just shrugged. She gave him a shake. "I asked how school was."

"It was fine."

Something was off in his voice, and she sat up so he did the same. "Calvin, is everything okay?" He shrugged again, not looking her in the eye. "Calvin, what happened, honey?"

He took a deep breath. "Missus Whitman is going to call you. But it wasn't my fault. Grady Proudlock called me a nerd and other names. He was asking for it."

Arielle's blood stilled and she knew her eyes got wider. "He was asking for what?" A loud crash sounded from the kitchen along with a muffled exclamation. Arielle frowned. "Who's in the kitchen?"

Calvin was glad for the distraction. "T-bone is here making you supper. He says you need to eat more fish in your diet."

Arielle shook her head. "Okay, sorry. Never mind that right now. What did you do to Grady Proudlock?" Calvin bit his lip. "Calvin?" Still no answer. "Calvin Grayson Taylor, you tell me immediately what you did or you're grounded until you do."

"I punched him," Calvin said softly, still looking down while pushing his glasses back up. "I made his nose bleed."

She took his chin in her hand and made him look at her. "You punched a boy at school?"

"Yes."

"Calvin, why? Because he called you a nerd?"

"And other things," he snapped back, which he usually did when he knew he was in trouble.

"What other things?"

"Aunt Arielle—"

"What was so bad? Tell me why you felt justified in hitting that boy."

"He called me a nerd. And a…pussy. And a fag." He knew the last two were terrible words so he said them very quietly. "He said he could hurt me. He said he'd kill me."

Arielle's eyebrows went up. "He said that?"

Calvin sniffed and finally looked her in the eye. "Yes."

"I'm calling his mother," she insisted, pushing the covers off her legs.

"No, you can't. She's gone. He lives with his dad and his dad is…not a nice guy."

Arielle stilled. "Honey, his dad might not know he's raising a little asshole."

Calvin sighed. "Yes he does. Because he's just like his dad. He's proud of him. His dad was there."

"What?"

"It was after school. Grady pushed me, called me names then went to get in his dad's truck. I could hear his dad laughing. I knew he wouldn't get in trouble. So I pulled him back and punched him. But Miss Whitman was there, and she grabbed me and gave me heck."

Arielle could feel her blood boiling. "This kid's father thought that was funny?" Calvin nodded, sniffing. "What did Grady's dad do when you hit him?"

Calvin bit his lip. "He called me a pussy."

"Who called you that?"

They both looked up, and Quentin was leaning on the door jamb looking dangerously curious. Arielle's tummy sank and she smoothed her hand over Calvin's hair, pulling him in for a hug. "Calvin got in a fight at school," Arielle said pointedly, hoping the look on her face indicated she did not need help from him and nobody needed to be roughed up or killed. "I'll take care of it."

"You can't fight at school, Chuckles."

"I got this, Quentin," she repeated. "I'll call the teacher, find out what happened."

"What's this kid's name?" Christ, it was like she wasn't talking.

Arielle was opening her mouth to answer but Calvin rushed ahead of her. "Grady Proudlock. His dad's a jerk and he's a bully. They both called me that word."

Quentin's brows came together. "The kid's dad said it, too?"

"Shit," Arielle breathed, knowing the situation was no longer under her control.

"Yeah," Calvin said overtop of her. "So I punched Grady."

Quentin did the worst thing possible then. He laughed. "You punched the kid? He punch you back?"

"No, the teacher yanked me back onto the school grounds to give me heck."

Arielle was getting up during this and crossing her arms. "Quentin, this isn't funny," she declared low and even. "He can't just hit people when they call him names."

Quentin dropped the smile. "You're absolutely right. Chuckles, shame on you. I had higher expectations of you," he smirked.

Arielle shook her head. "Don't make jokes about this."

He held his hands out. "No jokes, you're right. You shouldn't hit people. Unless they've really got it coming."

She put her hand over his mouth. "Stop talking. This is something I will handle, okay?"

Quentin pulled her hand down by the wrist. "Only if you're talking to the teacher. If you need to talk to this little asshole's dad, I'm handling it."

She sighed. "Quentin—"

"Nope," he cut her off genially. "No bartering on this. You talk to the teacher. If that doesn't work, lemme know."

"But Quentin—"

"Arielle, you can try to convince me all you want. I invite you to get as creative as possible. But you're not talking to that kid's dad. He's clearly a prick." She felt her face redden at his 'creative' comment. It made him laugh. "Come on. The chef’s almost got your supper done. You need to eat, remember? It smells good."

"Fine," she muttered, arms crossed, striding past him with a
pissy
-look that made him grin more. Then she heard whispering and turned back in time to see Quentin fist-bump Calvin, both of them grinning like idiots. Quentin realized they were caught first. He lost the smile, straightened up, hooked his thumbs on his belt and shook his head.

"Disappointed in you, Chuckles." Calvin was still grinning as he darted past her down the hallway.

"Please don't undermine me like that," she whispered as he approached, cracking a smile again that made her resolve slip just a little.

"You're right, I'm sorry. I'm shocked he hit someone. And he shouldn't. He's too small. He's gonna get his ass kicked."

"He shouldn't hit people because it's wrong," she corrected.

"Like when I hit Clark Davidson?" She bit her lip. "Like us taking care of the guys that roughed up Calvin?" he added very softly. "Cavemen can't be reasoned with. If this guy's dad turns out to be a banker you can talk to him. But something tells me he's the senior asshole." He was probably right. Dammit.

"Okay," she agreed. "You can talk to the dad if this teacher can't help."

"Damn straight," he said, kissing her cheek. "Let's get you fed now. Give me shit later, okay? It's great foreplay."

"So that wasn't Reuben?" Colton's voice was confused enough for the whole group.

Quentin's head was spinning. For the second time that day the Dead Men were called back to the clubhouse for another meeting. Quentin had left Arielle and Calvin watching a movie with T-bone to haul ass back to the clubhouse on Bishop’s command.

Henderson's revelation about the slumlord set off a hell of an investigation that Gage was still conducting, having picked it up again after making supper for Arielle and getting a call from some young thing working at the town office that was sweet on him.