“You haven’t finished your homework for the day?” Lacy asks, aghast. She gets out of her chair and scoots it over to Shannon. “I’m going to be a professor one day. I’ll help you.” Her pomp and patronizing tone almost gets me laughing, but I hold back. Whatever keeps them busy, I suppose.
I stare at the television. The new deputy police chief of Noimore gives some sort of speech. Isn’t he the one cracking down on crime? He’s an intimidating guy. Skin so pale he looks like he’s been dead for weeks—the red of his blood filters through and gives his balding head a pinkish sheen—and he’s got muscles that threaten to rip the seams of his clothes and force all the veins out of his body.
Not a guy I would want to take a back-alley beating from, that’s for sure.
Much to my surprise, I spot Rhett in the crowd of police officers standing around the podium. Apparently they’re all getting awards for lowering the amount of crime around Lake Michigan. The numbers on the screen say muggings, robbery, burglary, and prostitution are all on the decline. Maybe they’re not concerned with human trafficking. But why?
“This is all wrong,” Lacy says, breaking my focus.
I slide my attention over to the girls. Shannon rolls her eyes. “It’s dumb, anyway. Who cares?”
“You should try your hardest. This is terrible work.”
“What do you know?”
“More than you.”
“Hey,” I bark, cutting them off before this turns into a prissy little passive-aggressive fight. “Let me see it.” I hold out my hand, and Shannon passes over the paper. The workbook assignment is juvenile at best and labeled “geometry.” The directions say name the shapes with a bunch of multisided scribbles all down the middle. Under each one, Shannon wrote things like “Amy,” “Bob,” “Snoopy,” and “Jamison.”
Well, she did name them.
I chuckle, and Shannon gives me a slight smile. Then I glare at one of the shapes. “This really is a stupid assignment,” I say. “What are these? These aren’t circles and triangles. And isn’t this one just a diamond?”
“It’s a rhombus,” Lacy says, matter-of-fact.
“How the fuck is that different from a diamond?”
“Well, a diamond is a rhombus. Any parallelogram with equal sides is, technically.”
I laugh once and toss the paperwork back. “Yeah, that’s useless. You can forget that right away.”
“It won’t be useless as an adult,” Lacy pipes up, indignant.
Shannon snickers.
“Unless you live on the set of Jeopardy!, you’ll use that knowledge exactly zero times as an adult. Trust me. I know.”
Lacy crosses her arms. “Well, of course you’re not using it. You’re a criminal and a drug dealer. I meant when I become a proper adult.”
The atmosphere of the kitchen gets tense as I sit up in my chair. Both girls go silent. I can’t help but feel a cold rage in my system after hearing that. I have a goddamn lieutenant breathing down my neck—trying to find something that proves I’m who he thinks I am—and here I have some girl who’s going around telling people that I’m a criminal?
“Who told you that?” I ask, attempting to keep my voice neutral, but I know I must sound like a murderer on the edge of sanity.
“Jayden,” Lacy replies, her voice lower than before. “He told me to stay away from you. And that… and that you’re not treating Miles right. That you force him to be with you.”
I grind my teeth to stop myself from getting out of my chair and running that dumpster fire down. I hate the fact he knows who I once was. And he obviously can’t keep his fat mouth shut about it.
“Is it true?” Shannon whispers, engrossed by the conversation and glancing between me and Lacy.
I force a laugh and rest back in my seat. “Of course not.”
“That’s what Jayden said,” Lacy repeats.
“And you think Jayden is a credible source of information?”
“Well, yes. He’s my brother.”
“Jayden!” I shout, my anger fueling my volume.
“What?” he yells back.
“Tell me what a rhombus is!”
The quiet that follows is thick with confusion. Regardless, he eventually answers with “It’s a tiny robot that vacuums your floors. Why?”
I give Lacy a smirk. “Your brother is so detached from reality that he doesn’t even know what the fucking question is, let alone the right answer.” With unfiltered sarcasm I continue, “He’s definitely my source of information. Right alongside the National Enquirer and that drunken hobo I pass every morning on my way to work.”
Shannon stifles a long line of laughs as she buries her head into the crook of her arm. Lacy’s frown deepens, and with a sheepish tilt of her head, she hides most of her face behind her long black hair. I guess I should be thankful for Jayden’s general incompetence.
I stand up and head for the back room. Lacy holds up a hand, and I stop.
“I’m sorry I called you a criminal,” she says.
There isn’t much I can say, so I leave without replying. A few short steps later and I’m with Jayden and Miles in the back room. We have a shitty workout bench, and Jayden lies back on it, propped up on his elbows. Miles stands nearby, fitting on the last of his academy uniform.
“You’re leaving for class?” I ask him.
He nods. “Yeah. In a few minutes.”
Maybe Miles is flaunting for me, but he examines his dark blue shirt and decides against it. He pulls it off, tosses it in the hamper, and walks over to the closet, his bare skin and taut muscles a sight for sore eyes. I see Jayden and Lacy have hung their clothes inside, but Miles still keeps all his weird academy clothing in the corner. Apparently he needs to wear nice shoes, specific pants, and a belt that carries all their practice weaponry.
Miles throws on a new shirt and then walks over to me, a slight smile on his face like he knew I watched him like a hawk. “I’ll be back.”
“Come home right after,” I say.
