Amy Vastine - Falling For Her Bodyguard

His phone rang just as they neared the station. The caller ID showed it was a high school calling. Detective Walsh groaned and clicked the phone icon on his steering wheel.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Walsh? This is Dean Higgins again. I’m sorry to bother you,” the voice said through the car speakers.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Higgins?”

“Well, I’m sorry to say I have Graham here in my office.”

Detective Walsh pinched the bridge of his nose. “What did he do this time?”

No ring, but he had a kid. Maybe he was divorced. Or didn’t like wearing rings. Either was possible.

“He decided to skip math class again and we found him vandalizing the library.”

“I wasn’t vandalizing,” a new voice shouted in the background. “It’s called art. I was improving the overall aesthetics of this dump you call a school. You should be thanking me, not giving me detention.”

“You’ve surpassed the limit for detentions, young man. Vandalism is a crime. I could have turned this over to the police.”

“You called him, didn’t you? You just turned it over to the police. Thanks a lot. Now I’m dead.”

Oh, boy, could Kelly relate to this poor kid. She knew better than anyone the fear associated with a call home from school when your parents were cops.

“Tell him to stop with the dramatics,” Detective Walsh said, cutting in. “He has no one to blame for this other than himself.”

“We have a lot of concerns about the acting out Graham has been doing lately. We’ve tried to be understanding and compassionate. I know that things have been hard since his mom—”

Detective Walsh didn’t let the man finish. “What’s his punishment? In-school suspension? Saturday school? Does he have to pay to clean up the graffiti?”

“Well, sir, because he not only was truant from class but also vandalized school property, we’re going to issue an out-of-school suspension for the rest of today. We need you to come pick him up.”

Detective Walsh pulled the car over. “Hang on a second.” He pressed the mute button on his phone. “You good getting out right here?” he asked Kelly.

She was still a block and a half from the radio station, but who was she to argue with him? It was obvious he needed to handle this situation with his son. “Um, sure.”

“I’m guessing there are people at work who can watch you until I get back?”

Kelly felt a burning sensation in her chest. She wasn’t a child. She didn’t need to be watched. “I’ll be fine,” she replied, unlatching her seat belt and getting out of the truck. “You don’t have to come back. I’m sure I’ll survive.”

“Your uncle gave me orders. I’ll be back.”

“Sounds like you already have your hands full.”

Detective Walsh scowled. “I’ll be back.”

Kelly shut the door and watched him make a quick U-turn. Some bodyguard he turned out to be. Not that she needed one. Once she was inside the station, no one could get to her. She just needed to get inside the station.

A block and a half never seemed so far. Kelly was suddenly hyperaware of how many people walked along 16th Avenue. Since when did downtown Nashville feel like New York City? Someone rammed his shoulder into hers and didn’t even bother to apologize. Someone else brushed past her in all kinds of a hurry. She clutched the bottle of pepper spray in her pocket. Of course, she’d never be able to use it. What if some innocent person had an asthma attack because she released a cloud of pepper in the middle of this busy sidewalk?

She entered the building that housed the station and paused in the entryway to catch her breath and slow down her racing heart. She made it. Without her bodyguard. Kelly could do this. She didn’t need anyone to babysit her. As she got on the elevator, she made a mental note to look into some self-defense classes at the gym. Couldn’t hurt to be a bit more prepared.

“Kelly!” Stan greeted her. “You made it. I heard about what happened yesterday. You okay?”

“I’m good. My car, on the other hand...”

“I don’t understand what possesses people to do hateful things,” he said, shaking his head. “We really should get some security cameras in the parking garage.”

As much as Kelly appreciated Stan’s sympathy, she had a meeting to get to. Caroline Yates, the station manager, would not accept any excuses for being late.

“I’m actually on my way to talk to Caroline. Maybe I’ll bring that up with her.”

“Oh, didn’t she call you this morning? She decided last-minute to have you be on location at the opening of the new Great Barbecue over on 4th. They’re a huge sponsor of the show and offered to let us do a remote broadcast. Lyle is already over there setting things up and Travis and Holly have been talking about it all morning.”

Kelly had to push down the anger that was building at not being given ample warning about this. She couldn’t let it get back to Caroline that she wasn’t up for anything the woman threw at her. If Caroline asked her to jump out of an airplane while juggling flaming bowling pins, she would have to strap on that parachute and give it her best shot.

She plastered on a smile. “Good thing I skipped breakfast. Sounds like I might get to eat some brisket for lunch.”

* * *

IF GRAHAM KNEW what was good for him, he would not say one word on their ride home.

“I can’t believe they’re dumb enough to send me home for ditching class. Obviously, I didn’t want to be in class. They’re actually giving me exactly what I wanted by suspending me.”

Apparently, he did not.

Dressed in his usual jeans and ’90s band T-shirt, the troubled teen flipped down the visor and checked his reflection in the small mirror. He had blond hair and a narrow nose like his mom but green eyes and a strong, wide jaw like his dad. Their oldest was truly a perfect blend of the two of them. Too bad he didn’t act like either of them.

“I wonder what I have to do to get expelled.”

Donovan gripped the steering wheel tighter. “You do not want to find out what will happen to you if you get expelled. Trust me on that.”

“You gonna beat me up like you beat up the other bad guys in this town? Huh, Uncle Donovan?”

“You’re really working hard to make your mother and father proud, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, well, dead people can’t be proud or disappointed, can they?”

Donovan couldn’t really argue with the kid about that. He understood Graham was angry at the world for taking both his parents way too early. The fifteen-year-old and his little sister, Avery, had been dealt the worst hand life could deal, but that didn’t give Graham permission to make things worse.

“Point is, you should want to act in a way that would have made your parents proud,” Donovan said. “I guess we can talk about why you aren’t when we meet with your guidance counselor tomorrow morning. All this posturing and acting out isn’t getting you anywhere.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. It’s getting me out of school, isn’t it? I’d say it’s getting me exactly where I want to be.”

There was no talking to this kid. Why Donovan’s sister would have named him the guardian of her kids after she died, he’d never know. He was not cut out for this parenting stuff. He didn’t have the patience for obnoxious, know-it-all teenagers. The only reason Avery liked him was because she was seven and liked everyone. Kids were still sweet at seven, but give that little girl seven more years and some hormones... Donovan might not survive it.

“Give me your phone,” he demanded when they pulled up to his house a few minutes later. “No phone when you’re grounded. Which you are, by the way.”

“What if there’s a fire and I have to call 9-1-1 for help?”