Brainy and the Beast (11 page)

“Jeff and, um, some of the other guys from the football team were hassling me.” She lifted her gaze to Hughes for a few seconds. “They kind of do it a lot.” With a small shrug, she looked down at her hands. “Anyway, today, Grant told, um, Jeff to knock it off, to leave me alone.”

“Go on,” Hughes encouraged her. “And then what happened?”

“Um. He.” Her blue eyes flicked to Grant again. “I don’t know. Jeff shoved him; then Grant did something, and the next thing I knew, Jeff was on the floor.” For the first time, I saw a tiny smile on her face. It was fleeting, gone in a second, but it was there. “It was kind of cool. Like on TV.”

“Grant? Do you want to say something for yourself?”

I had to hand it to Hughes. He was being fair and straightforward. I bent forward, elbows again on my knees. I definitely wanted to hear this.

Grant gave another shrug. I’d learned really quickly he did that. A lot.

I nudged him with a finger. “You want to say something for yourself? Before you get sent home to do chores?”

The kid gave me a glare, which I figured was automatic at hearing the word “chores.” I motioned with my head, telling him to get on with it.

At first, he talked to his feet. “Well, um, I was just—”

“Look up,” I whispered.

He rolled his eyes but nonetheless directed his words to Hughes. “He”—he jerked a thumb at Jeffrey—“was doing what he always does. Trashing anybody who’s not a jock.” He darted a sideways glance at me. “He’s kind of a dick.”

I had to bite my lip to keep from grinning. Jeffy had a pissed-off look on his face, while his old man was getting red again and rumbling low in the throat.

Hughes cleared his throat. I could have sworn I saw a smirk there for just a second.

“Anyway,” Grant continued, “he and his dumb-ass jock bros have been bugging Shawn since she came to school with that.” He gestured to his own jaw. “They kind of have it in for her anyway; I don’t know why.”

“He’s a liar!” Hastings had to restrain his kid, keeping Jeff in the chair. He couldn’t keep the punk from mouthing off though. “He went after me!”

I wanted to make sure Grant got his opportunity to tell the truth. “Is that true, Grant?”

My nephew looked at me, head-on, for the first time since I’d gotten there. “No.” He glared at Jeffrey. “Those pricks think that all their juiced-up muscles are gonna scare everybody else. And, and they were—
he
was getting all up in Shawn’s face. He even pushed her into the soda machine. He was at the right angle for me to use a roundhouse kick on him. So I did.” His hazel eyes met mine again. “What was I supposed to do? I’ve heard you and Gramps talking about when you were a kid. You got into fights.”

Great. My own history used against me. Not to mention the kid was talking like he’d been around my garage too long. “We’ll talk about that when we get home. And nice language, by the way.” I had to admit to being secretly thrilled he’d used his tae kwon do skills against the bullyboy.

Hastings and his kid were stewing in their seats, muttering, while Shawn was peeking at Grant from behind her hair again. Mrs. Ginsburg alternated between rubbing her daughter’s shoulder and darting frightened looks at the Hastings creeps. I was starting to get a picture of what life at the Ginsburg house must be like, and I didn’t care for it. That bruise on the kid’s face was telling its own story.

Hughes clasped his hands on his desk. “Well, Mr. Shelton, while I admire Grant’s determination to stand up for someone being victimized, I cannot reverse school board policy on violent behavior. My hands are tied in this instance. Because both Jeffrey and Grant were involved in this altercation, both of them are suspended from school for three days. They can return to school next Thursday.”

“What?” Hastings shot to his feet. “My son is the victim here. You can’t suspend him!” He favored us all with a ferocious scowl. “There’s no way Jeffrey should be treated the same as this…this…trailer trash!”

I arched my brows at the vice principal. “Do you think he means me?” I unzipped my jacket, sweeping the sides back, making sure my workingman shirt was on display.

While Hughes kept a straight face, I could see an answering gleam in his eyes. He got up, leaning forward, hands planted on the desktop. “Mr. Hastings, I advise you to counsel your son on his aggressive tendencies.”

The punk father pulled the punk son to his feet. “Let’s go, Jeff. I’ve heard enough.”

Jeffrey sneered as he stood. “Stupid Jew bitch.” His creepy gaze rested on Shawn’s lowered head. I wanted so badly to deck the little prick.

“Make that a five-day suspension, Hastings.” Hughes came around the desk. He walked to the door and yanked it open. “Now I’d appreciate it if you’d get out of my office.”

In the car going home, Grant fiddled with the radio. I watched him out of the corner of my eye. “You want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know.” Loud hip-hop blasted out of the speakers.

If my dad had put up with this kind of refusal to talk when I was Grant’s age, I didn’t know how he hadn’t killed me. I dialed the music down a hair. “If you’re going to blast it, will you at least play some Pitbull?”

“
You
like Pitbull?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I listen to what the guys play at the shop. What? You don’t think I can like cool music?”

He shrugged but changed the music channel anyway.

“So you were standing up for Shawn. Looks like you did good, kid.”

He didn’t answer me right away, but I almost got a smile out of him. “Thanks.”

“I’m kind of glad now that we sent you to tae kwon do last year. I didn’t know you’d need it your first year in high school.” I shook my head. “I thought maybe you might need it in junior or senior year. How old is that kid, anyway?”

“Jeff?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s a junior. But the jerks he hangs around with are seniors, mostly.”

“Pretty impressed you could take down a guy that size. You must be practicing when I’m not home.”

“I do, yeah. Kind of.”

My phone rang, and I muted the radio. “Well, keep it up. Maybe we can work out together.” I hadn’t seriously trained since I was about twenty-six, but my forms weren’t too bad. “Sorry. Let me get this.”

I didn’t recognize the number but figured it was somebody calling me about work. “Shelton.”

“I see you’ve gotten over your fear of charging me for sex.”

Whoa
. That sexy voice was practically purring in my ear. I darted a glance at Grant, panicked that he might be able to hear Henry. Thankfully, the kid was putting his earbuds in, fiddling with his iPod.

“Nicholas?”

“Uh-huh?”

“I received your e-mail, obviously.” I could picture him. Probably sitting at his desk, kicked back in his chair, maybe swinging around to look out the window. I assumed he had a big window, but I actually hadn’t seen inside his office.

“…was last February. Do you think I should bring it in?”

“Huh?”

“I said, now I can bring the Buick to you. I last had it in for a checkup in February.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “Shall we come and see you?”

“Uh-huh. I mean, yeah.” Grant was busy staring out the window, listening to his music, thank God, and didn’t hear me acting like I was his age. “When? Um. When do you want to bring it in?”

“Hmm. Today’s Friday. I could drive it over on Monday morning, if your people can give me a ride to the office. Or…I suppose, if you didn’t mind, you could come by the house tonight and pick it up. Can you have someone drop you off here?”

“I. Uh, sure.” The Volvo’s clock showed it was just after two. “I actually had to leave the shop early to pick up Grant from school, so we’re heading home now.” I lowered my voice. “Um. I could probably get over there whenever you want. What time are you going to be home?”

“I was toying with the idea of leaving work a little early for a change.”

I took a deep breath. “Well. Maybe I could take you to dinner. We could check out a movie too.”

“Perhaps.” He hmmed in my ear again. “The last movie I saw was
I, Robot
.”

“That was a few years ago. You haven’t been to a movie since then?”

“I’m afraid not. I had heard about that one and wanted to see what technological innovations they were proclaiming. Hmph. The demolition robot was fairly close to some current technology. But the vehicles, especially the buses? That whole concept was absurd. Though I have to say the humanoid robots were fairly well done.”

“Doc. You’re supposed to just enjoy the show.” I couldn’t help but snicker. The scientist in him needed to sit back and relax for a little while.

“I suppose.”

“Anyway. There’s this place up in Wadsworth. It’s kind of a hole-in-the-wall, but the food is great.”

“That sounds intriguing.”

I smiled.
Gotcha
. “Okay. Cool. How about I come by around four thirty? You can follow me to the shop with your car; then we can go from there.”

“I’ll see you then, Nicholas.”

When he said my name like that, I felt a tingle down in my balls. How weird was that?

“You going on a date?” Grant had one earbud out and was staring at me.

Shit
. I’d forgotten about him. Some uncle I was. “Um.” Thankfully, our turnoff was dead ahead. “Oh, cool. We’re home.” I spun the wheel, heading up the long driveway.

“You said we could work out together.”

I ran my tongue over my teeth as I parked near the house. “Uh.” Actually, an hour ago, when I’d been planning my afternoon around going to pick him up at school, I
had
intended to go back to the garage and get some more work done. It hadn’t even occurred to me the kid might actually want to spend time with me. And, if I were truthful with myself, I’d have to say I liked that. I was liking a lot of things today, especially how Grant had courageously stood up for someone else.

“Well. Sure. We still have time to do that.” I nodded. “I can meet you downstairs in about ten.”
Maybe it would be fun
. Grant and I could work off some of the tension of the afternoon. I’d be nice and relaxed before seeing Henry again.

I grinned crookedly. I’d need all the help I could get with the doc. Around him, I seemed to be back in high school, acting like an idiot half the time instead of the grown man I was. What was up with that?

Inside, I hung up my keys and coat, then kicked off my work boots. The dogs came charging toward me from their spot inside the warm kitchen, and I nearly took a header as they swarmed around me. “Rum! Coke! Will you two please get the heck out from under my feet?” I could hear Grant snorting in amusement behind me. “Hey, you could make yourself useful by letting them out, you know.”

“Uh-huh.” He opened the door anyway.

I rolled my eyes. Calling a hello to my dad as I walked by the living room, I headed upstairs. Kids. Dogs. My father. Christ, my life was turning into
The Waltons
. I snorted at my ridiculous thoughts and yanked open my dresser drawer. I pulled on a jock and stepped into loose warm-up pants. I hadn’t done any real sparring in a long time, so this was going to be interesting.

The basement of my farmhouse was not finished by any stretch of the imagination, but it had worked for me since I’d been there. The concrete floor and exposed structural wood gave it an unwelcoming appearance, but the flat screen on the wall and the scruffy old sofa in front of it made the space into a man cave. At least, that’s what I told myself. Funny how living with two other guys still meant I wanted my own damned man cave.

I’d put my workout stuff down there too, so I’d have it when I got the urge. When Grant had moved in and my dad and I had put him in martial arts training, we’d added a floor mat so he could practice.

“Make sure you stretch your muscles and loosen up.” I pulled my left arm across my chest, feeling the muscle elongate.

“My instructor makes sure we stretch before and after class.” Grant sounded a little superior. He dropped his teenage body into a squat, then stuck one long leg out, bending over it.

Huh. Better see if I could do that. “Ungh.”

“Uncle Nick. You’re supposed to do it like this.” My nephew graciously demonstrated the proper way to stretch my hammies and quads, and I bit my tongue while following along.

“Now try this one.” Grant led me in a series of warm-up moves, and I had to admit they were good.

“Thanks, kid.” I got a genuine smile in return, and it made me feel kind of nice inside. “All right. Show me what you’ve been working on in class.”

“Okay. Lately we’ve been practicing our kicks.” Grant popped up his right foot into a front snap kick, then reversed into a roundhouse.

“That the one you used on Jeffy Boy?” I mimicked his actions, trying not to strain any unused leg muscles.

“Yeah.” There was a wealth of satisfaction in that one syllable. He spun into a side-thrust kick. “Want to try the form for orange belt?” Grant brought his hands together and bowed. “Remember how?”

I nodded. “It’s been a while, but I think so.” I missed a couple of steps but slowly matched his actions. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to your class when you tested.”

“It’s all right. Gramps said you had to work late at the garage that night.”

The kid was being generous. I’m sure I was working that night, but I hadn’t really made his test a priority.

It took me a few minutes, but the
poomsae
started coming back to me. Grunting out the Korean cadence helped me settle into the pattern. We went through the form a few times, then squared off to spar.

I tried keeping up with Grant’s movements, and we began to develop a rhythm. “That Hastings boy really seems to not like Shawn.”

“Huh?” Grant aimed a hook punch, followed by a jab.

“Jeff. What’s going on there?” I sent a back fist toward him, and Grant blocked it nicely.

“Besides the fact that he’s a major dick?”

“You talk like that around Gramps?” I parried his next punch. “Yeah, besides that.”

He dodged my kick. “He…he and his creep friends are skinheads, I think. They’re freaks. They pretty much hate everybody.”