Another sniffle accompanied a nod.
“My life is over,” she wailed.
She sounded so defeated. Unlike a few days ago when she worried Rory by proclaiming she should be dead, alarm rushed through CJ today, his guardslipping. Until he remembered the hell she put him through. He stiffened his resolve and shoved away his concern. “Whatever it is, you’ll figure it out.”
“CJ—”
“Go to your rehearsal.”
He didn’t want to hear more. He didn’t want her to matter to him, not even a small bit. Yet looking at her, seeing the tears slipping down her cheeks, and the distress marring her face, heknewshe’d always have a small piece of his heart. He grabbed her hand and led her to the side entrance of the theater arts building. Merriweather Hall also housed the auditorium, where Nardo Grevenberg sat in one of the front row blue chairs, reading a script. He looked up and his gaze shifted from CJ’s and Harley’s clasped hands to CJ’s face.
Nardo smirked.
“Not a fucking word, Grevenberg.” CJ released Harley’s hand. “I will fucking lay you out. Don’t fucking try me.”
“Yeah, whatever you say. I can have charges brought. I can call on my old man. You’ll also get suspended. Or expelled. Ridge Moore don’t let riffraff in, and you qualify.”
“Motherfucker, I will fucking bathe this auditorium in your blood if you don’t back the fuck off. I can get expelled, but I’ll be back before you’re fucking buried since my parents own—”
A loud clearing of the throat interrupted CJ’s tirade. He ignored Harley’s gaping and Nardo’s frown and turned toward the sound. Not far away, at the edge of the row, a handyman beckoned CJ. He wore a gray jumpsuit and a long-billed hat that hid his forehead and threw his eyes and nose into shadow. His thick mustache and unkempt beard covered the rest of his face.
The man beckoned him over again.
CJ scrubbed a hand over his neck. He was fucking up so bad. He couldn’t lose his cool and blurt shit out. Fuck, he needed better impulse control.
Another wave from the handyman.
“Go ahead, bitch,” Nardo taunted.
Harley frowned at Nardo. “He might be a bitch to you, butyou’rea brainless motherfucker.”
“Pretend you’re loyal all you want to, Harley,” Nardo said. “You didn’t think about that when you gave up pussy.”
Nardo was a disrespectful fuckhead. Harley stumbled back, her despair infuriating CJ. He balled his fist, but the handyman rushed forward, grabbing CJ’s arm before her broke Nardo’s jaw.
“Get off me, motherfucker,” CJ ordered, shoving the stranger.
“Fuck, boy, tone it the fuck down,” Uncle Val growled, low. At least, itsoundedlike Uncle Val.
CJ blinked.
“It’s me, CJ. Val. Your Aunt Zoann’s husband. Your—”
“I know who you are,” CJ whispered, catching on to the need for secrecy. “Why are you here, dressed…?” He indicated the getup with a wave of his hand.
“We been bugging the place. Two motherfuckers breached the fucking school. We in the process of recruiting some of the younger members to enroll them here as your bodyguards. Areas like the auditorium always seem to be crawling with motherfuckers. Haven’t been able to put up the cameras so we’re going to plan b.”
That still didn’t explain Uncle Val’s disguise, but CJ let it go.
“Why can’t we just stay home?”
“There’s a fucking tribe of little motherfuckers that attend Ridge Moore.Various grades and intelligence. Different after school activities. It’s just easier this way.”
“Where’d you get that fucking outfit?”
Uncle Val’s fake beard twitched. “We have our ways.”
“Right.”
