Wicked Boys Page 13

  Holy fucking panic attack. My hands go to my head as I clutch my forehead tight and take a steady grip on my nerves. Talia’s room looks almost the same as when I first came here to ask for her help during the student elections. The yarn is sagging off the table legs, and it droops away from the bed frame. I don’t have time to reminisce about the days when running against Silas was my biggest challenge.

  I drop my bag on the desk and start looking for Marcy’s phone. Yanking out drawers, opening up the closet, on the floor, looking under the bed; there’s nothing. She’s not dumb; mean, but not dumb. Talia wouldn’t hide it in a conspicuous place. One desk drawer is locked. I take out the Swiss knife and force a thick blade between the slight gap between the metal. Grunting, I keep working the blade as my hands begin to sweat. It takes its time opening, but finally, it does with a loud crack that sends me backward onto my ass.

  I spring up and yank the drawer until it practically falls out. I don’t see the phone, but I find a laptop and some papers. Looking closely, the papers are letters, photos, and printouts. I look even closer at one, and it’s a cam shot of a student, topless and gazing at the viewer suggestively. No way should Talia have this. I start to realize what I’ve found. And I take every piece of paper out of the drawer and shove it into my backpack.

  I open the laptop, and of course, it’s password protected. How many chances will I get before it locks? I type in the obvious things like her name. I find her ID in another desk drawer and try that. I can’t think of anything as I sit down in that nasty desk chair covered in dusty old yarn.

  Maybe…I type in yarnbomb, and it works. The screen chimes with a ping, and a screenshot of Rhys and Talia smiles back at me. Theo has been trimmed out of the photo and her life.

  I start downloading all the document files, moving them off her hard drive onto my portable drive. I look at one of the pictures in my bag and shake my head. It’s a shot of some kid with glitter makeup and a T-shirt that reads “Rainbows Rule.” I know the kid. He and his straight girlfriend pick on me whenever I’m trying to eat lunch. He won’t appreciate the questions she’ll ask if this photo is posted. My hand wavers over the drawer, but I don’t drop it back in.

  I run to the window, open it, and signal Silas with my flashlight. He’s already there. The dorm windows don’t slide up—instead, they open in, plus there’s a screen. Using my knife, I cut the screen and start shoving papers out. For a moment, I pause and stare at Silas, who stops to examine one before putting it into his backpack. Looking up, he realizes that I’ve stopped giving him anything. I shake my head, and he understands that these have to be destroyed.

  The download finishes, and I pass him the drive through the cut screen. I start when his phone chimes. Silas frowns at it.

  “Vicki, they’re heading back.”

  “Has it been that long?” I ask.

  Silas shakes his head. “I don’t know. Hurry.”

  He yanks at the screen, tearing it away from the window, but only a small child can squeeze through the open window.

  “Wait,” I tell him.

  “Vicki, you have time. Use the door.”

  I run back to the laptop and take out the drill. I start drilling into the back of it, hoping I don’t electrocute myself in the process. And that’s the moment Talia comes into the room. She flips on the overhead light, and it takes her a moment to realize what’s happening. Talia sees me and, screaming, lunges with nails out. Her face contorts as she shouts for me to stop. Crazy bitch. I could’ve gotten her, or me, with the drill. It drops out of my hands with a loud thud as she grabs for my arm.

  “What the fuck are you doing in here?” she shouts as we tumble to the floor.

  I don’t speak as I flip her off my back, roll, and plant my fist in her face. She squeals, holding her face, and I grab my backpack. The fight has attracted attention as I run past, a few heads poking out of doorways. I run out of the main door, straight into a security guard.

  “Stop her! She stole my stuff!” Talia screams as she rushes down the hallway.

  A big guard has his hands firmly on my shoulders as he practically carries me to a customized golf cart. The cart has the school logo painted on the hood and the word “security” printed underneath it. I sit there clutching my backpack as if it contains a million dollars in gold.

  “Wait!” Talia races toward us, her nose bleeding all over her black dress. But wait, her hair is soaked and dripping on her dress. I didn’t do that. Talia grabs for the backpack, but I shove her away, savagely, in the chest. Another guard pulls her away as she kicks and struggles to break free. I smirk, seeing how badly she wants it. I toss the bag down onto the ground at her feet. Talia tears it open, threads breaking as the zipper breaks.

  “Where is it?” she shouts. She leaps at me again. The security guard is ready and grabs her firmly by the waist. She struggles against his grip as if she’s trying to swim through the air. A disgusted guard puts her into another cart and tosses the backpack into the front seat. They have no idea how bad things are.

  “Where are we taking this one?” he asks, glances at Talia.

  “That one goes to the nurse.” He points at Talia. “And that one is for Jagan.” He points to Jagan, who is racing across the lawn to the carts.

  Jagan glances at me and then stares at a fucked-up Talia. She is holding her bloody nose, and the entire top of her dress is wet, not just her hair.

  “What happened?” asks Jagan to no one in particular.

  The bigger guard answers first. “That one broke into her room and stole some stuff. It’s in the bag.”

  Jagan takes the bag and opens it, pulling out my Swiss knife. He looks inside it as if he’ll find something else. And then looks at me sternly, but I keep my mouth shut. “Okay,” he says, “I’ll handle this.”

  The bigger guard shakes his head. “I have to call the sheriff’s office.” He nods toward me. “She committed a felony, and it has to be reported to the authorities. You need to call her parents.”

  Jagan frowns. “No, I can take care of it.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.” The guard places his hands on his hips. “I can lose my job if I don’t report it.” The guard turns his head slightly and mumbles to the other guard. “I’m not losing my job over this bullshit.”

  “There! There!” Talia starts shouting as she jumps out of the cart and starts running across the lawn. “He has my stuff in his bag.”

  Silas walks casually from the back of the building, holding his backpack while watching us. Talia screams louder for help as she charges toward him, kicking off her shoes to catch up. The other guard takes off running toward Silas. Silas grips the bag to his shoulders and starts running across campus. He’s faster than the other men.

  “Stop chasing him!” shouts Jagan. “I don’t want another person in that fucking hospital.”

  “Miss.” The guard grips my upper arm as if I might run too. “Stay in the cart.”

  The cart starts moving toward a dark blue car in the parking lot, and I try to watch what’s happening on the lawn, but we’re moving too fast. My hair keeps blowing into my eyes, and I only catch a glimpse of Silas as the guard tackles him to the ground.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Greg

  I thought I’d be wearing my new suit to Vicki’s high school graduation, not to her court hearing. Well, not a court hearing but a mediation at Maya’s home, which positively sounds like an oxymoron. I only agreed to attend this clusterfuck so I could see my daughter. The night Vicki was arrested for breaking and entering, I was in San Francisco for the evening. By the time I flew into LAX, Vicki was in Maya’s custody. The thing Vicki and I both dreaded had happened, and I wanted explanations.

  “It will be okay, Greg.” Naomi sits beside me as I drive through the mountains to Palm Springs. I’ve been dating Naomi Sotto for a few months. We met when she showed me a house in Malibu. She’s a tall and lively brunette with an easygoing smile. I couldn’t stop looking at her. I had intended to introduc
e her to Vicki at graduation. Instead, Naomi is about to meet my ex-wife, along with my troubled daughter. I glance at her, and she gives me a patient smile as she runs her hand over my knee. She insisted on coming along to be emotional support.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her, “I wanted to take you to my daughter’s graduation, not to her hearing.”

  “Don’t stress about us,” replies Naomi, “Just focus on your daughter. I don’t have kids, but I know from my sister that they are a challenge.”

  I grimace. “I’m afraid you’ll be the one facing the challenge when you meet my ex-wife.”

  Maya lives in a cozy house, not as flashy as the others, a block from the wealthier neighborhood. The house fits its surroundings—low, flat, and modern—with an impossibly green lawn in a desert town under a blazing sun. What is she spending the alimony on? I wonder as I look at the stucco box.

  “Good morning, Greg.” My lawyer, Jason Black, agreed to meet us there. He walks over as I get out of the car. “Naomi.”

  Naomi steps out of the car, smoothing down her skirt. I’m glad I decided San Francisco was too far away and contacted her agency about real estate in Malibu. Jason and Naomi have already met, and as much as I love her, I will have a prenup this time. I hold her hand as we walk up to the front door—my lawyer trailing behind us.

  “Let me do the talking, Greg. I know you’re anxious to tell Maya off, but you don’t want to give her ammo.”

  I shake my head. “She has all the ammo she needs. She has my daughter.”

  Online articles have detailed the seedy secrets of Redwood, claiming it isn’t the prestigious institute that the paid marketing firm alleges. Various news sites have posted clickbait on the tryst, the teacher, and the felony. Slowly, the bad news is creeping up to the front page. Jason is doing what he can to keep it out of the papers, but once it’s online, it’s everywhere. Trying to stop it is like trying to catch the wind in your hands and shove it in your pocket.

  “Maya.” I nod as my ex opens the front door. She steps aside, allowing us to enter. I cringe when I see the interior of her house. It looks almost identical to our old home in New Jersey but scaled down. Blocky modern furniture in solid neutrals, glass edges that were never family-friendly, and blood-red flowers in massive floral arrangements on every tabletop. But one thing is missing.

  “No Dennis?” I ask her.

  “Not anymore,” Maya snaps.

  The man is smarter than I gave him credit for. Unlike me, he knew when to run away. I hold out my hand toward Naomi, and she steps forward.

  “Maya, this is my girlfriend Naomi,” I can’t help but smile at my lucky charm.

  Miya responds with a stiff smile. “Nice to meet you.”

  Naomi nods, and we walk into the dining room. I help Naomi with her chair, and a man in a navy suit rushes into the room. On the table is a printout of the latest scandal over the break-in at Redwood. Thankfully, there’s only a picture of the school and not Vicki. I skim the text, looking for information I don’t already know.

  “Why did Vicki break into the girl’s room?” I ask Maya.

  Maya shrugs as she sits down at the head of the table. “Probably to steal drugs.”

  I remain standing. “Did you ask her?”

  “I didn’t need to,” she replies.

  “So you didn’t ask?” I question her.

  Maya looks at her lawyer, whom she has neglected to introduce. The mediator doesn’t appear to be present. “Emery Caldwell,” he shakes my hand. “We spoke to the court,” he continues, “Vicki has been released into her mother’s custody until the court determines custodianship.”

  “I expect to see my daughter before I leave.” I take a step toward the man as they all watch me. “I want to hear her explanation from her own mouth.”

  “Too little, too late again, Greg,” Maya gloats. “Our daughter needed your supervision before this happened.” She looks at Naomi. “But you’ve been distracted by other interests.”

  “Greg is a good father,” replies Naomi, “He’s always available for his children.”

  Maya stands, angling her body so her back is to Naomi. “How dare you bring your latest squeeze into my house?” she says.

  “Excuse you.” Naomi’s accent comes out as her back straightens in her chair. “We’re in a serious relationship.”

  “Is that code for sugar daddy?” Maya smirks at me. “She’s how much older than Vicki?”

  I place my hand on Naomi’s shoulder to keep her from jumping up out of her chair. I definitely have a thing for fiery women, but Naomi cares. I can tell by the way she kisses me that it’s real. And though she hasn’t met Vicki or Troy, she knows I love my kids.

  “I spoke to the girl that Vicki tried to rob,” Maya explains to the lawyers, who both look concerned. “She was looking for something to sell. I’ve contacted a psychiatrist to treat Vicki after this latest trauma.”

  “I want to talk to Vicki myself,” I demand.

  Maya looks on the verge of slapping me. “You allowed our daughter to become a whore who’ll spread her legs for anyone in Hollywood! And for what? So you can fuck another Lucy in California? I won’t have it. Our daughter needs her mother, not a playboy father more obsessed with his own self-worth than protecting his own children’s well-being.”

  I bite my tongue, and it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done for anybody. I want to see Vicki more than I want to tell off Maya.

  “Fine,” says Naomi, “if you’re concerned for your daughter’s mental health, then you won’t keep her away from her father.”

  Maya glares at Naomi. “I’m not keeping anyone away from him. He keeps my children away from me. If he hadn’t, Vicki would be a different person today.”

  I almost lose consciousness from the shock of hearing that lie.

  “Dad?”

  I spin around when I hear Vicki’s voice. She stands in the doorway, holding tight onto the wall. I gasp at the change a week has made in her appearance. The dark circles make her eyes look sunken in, and she’s lost too much weight too quickly. I race toward her as she flies into my open arms.

  “Vicki, baby, how do you feel?”

  “She feels fine,” declares Maya. “It’s withdrawal.”

  Vicki grips me tighter. “Dad, it’s all lies,” she whispers, “I wasn’t looking for drugs. I was looking for proof.”

  “Shush, Vicki.” I hold her close. “Not here,” I whisper.

  “I want to talk to Dad alone,” Vicki says.

  “No,” Maya walks toward us. “Greg, I need you to leave.”

  “No!” Vicki screams, holding onto my waist. I can feel the boniness of her arms. What has this evil woman done to my little girl?

  “I will call the police,” says Maya, “My lawyer’s here, and I’m getting a restraining order.”

  My lawyer Jason steps in between Maya and me. “Greg, if Vicki leaves Maya’s custody, they can return her to jail.”

  I sigh, pulling her a foot away so we can talk. “Vicki, baby. Keep your mouth shut, and I’ll sue to get you out of this.”

  She nods, but her worried eyes gut me. I don’t think I can walk away. Naomi takes my hand, and we head for the door.

  We drive in silence for the first ten miles. Naomi looks out the window at the mountains as we head toward my home. Maybe she’s having second thoughts about us.

  “Should I drive you back to LAX or hire you a car?” I ask her.

  “Why?” she replies, facing me.

  I scoff. “My family is obviously dysfunctional. You’ve met my ex-wife. My daughter has serious issues. My son is in a very unusual relationship. I’m surprised you’re not hiring a jet to get as far away from me as you can.”

  Naomi laughs.

  “I’m glad you’re finding some humor in this mess,” I reply.

  She catches her breath. “You’re going to need a sense of humor when you meet my family. I’m thankful they stayed in Florida. I’ll make you a deal. We’ll stick together and be sane toget
her.”

  I grin as she places her hand on my leg and rubs it. I need someone like Naomi to love. “Vicki is a sweet girl who made a shitload of mistakes,” I tell her, “And I want you to see her the way I see her—a creative and beautiful young woman.”