Dawn Atkins - His Brother's Keeper

Something more recent, he figured, noticing that she’d smashed the magnetic sculpture flat and set the wave box rocking wildly.

He picked up some Tinkertoy pieces on the floor. Had she tossed them there? Damn. He hoped to hell Giorgio’s gyros had the power to soothe a savage principal.

The smile she managed looked almost painful.

He stopped the thrashing wave box with one finger and put the Tinkertoys on her desk. “Bad day?” he asked gently, braced for her to throw something at him.

“You could say that,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Lunch should help.” He set the sack on her desk. She simply looked at him. “From Giorgio’s Grotto,” he added, to get the conversation going.

Crickets.

“Best gyros in town.”

Still nothing.

“And I’m not just saying that because my mom married Giorgio.”

This time she broke. “She did? That’s…great.”

FELICITY©TRIED©TO©SMILE past her pain. Gabe had returned, which meant he wanted to negotiate. He’d brought food and was offering personal news, clearly trying to be friendly.

“Yeah. He’s a good guy. He makes her happy.”

Thank goodness. Robert’s mother was okay. That relieved her, especially after Gabe had bristled the first day at the mere mention of his family.

“So…you hungry?” he asked.

“Not really. Bad day and all.”

“Want to talk about it?”

He was trying hard, inviting her to vent. “It’s complicated.” The less he knew about her troubles, the better her negotiating position.

The incident that had churned her stomach and made her wreak havoc with her desk toys was hearing from her teachers the rumor that she was about to be fired.

Word about the lost funds had beaten her to school, too.

Her teachers’ reactions had troubled her. There was no outrage, no anger. Just shrugs and resignation. Typical. That’s how they treat us.

They didn’t think less of her for it, but only because they hadn’t thought much of her in the first place. That stung. And she was determined to come through for them. That meant making a deal with Gabe.

“I’ve got time,” he said, but she knew better.

“You’ve got work. Please eat while we talk.”

“You keep it for when your day gets better.”

“Thanks. My cupboard’s pretty bare. New apartment.”

“Sure. Takes a while to settle in.” They were outdoing each other being nice. It was getting sickening.

He seemed to realize that, too, and his expression went intent. “Look, I was out of line yesterday…what I said at the end.”

“We were both upset.”

He nodded. “The most I can pay is a thousand.”

Thank God. He would pay. Hope surged. “Fifteen hundred,” she shot back, keeping her face neutral.

“No way.” His eyes flared, but only slightly, so she knew he was still in the game. “Twelve hundred. And that’s final.” His tone and locked jaw confirmed his words. He couldn’t pay more.

“Deal,” she said. “We’ll prorate this month to $600. Pay me on Monday.”

“I’ll need to shift some funds.” He frowned.

“Then make it Wednesday.” A concession would make him feel better about the deal. “Thank you. This means a lot to us.” She could pay stipends to an assistant and an aide and use the rest for food and supplies.

“You had me over a barrel.”

“Only because I was over one myself.”

They stared at each other, settling down from the bargaining, weighing the balance between resentment and acceptance and how they would relate to each other from here.

“If you need help clearing the space, Dave Scott can assist you.”

“Dave?” He half laughed. “I’ll pass. He’ll want to give me coaching tips.”

“You, too? If he pats me on the shoulder once more and says, ‘You’re new, you’ll learn,’ I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” She was certain Dave had started the rumor that she was going to be fired.

Gabe laughed. “That’s where kickboxing is handy. One shot to the family jewels and he’ll be at your command.”

She burst out laughing, then covered her mouth. “That wasn’t very professional. Pretend I didn’t laugh.”

“Your secret’s safe.” He smiled and she got that rush of attraction again, saw him reacting to her, too.

“Anyway, Dave speaks well of you. He says you keep his, quote, ‘biggest pains-in-the-ass out of my hair,’ end quote.” Another teacher had praised STRIKE’s effect on one of her students. Plus, the coach is sooo hot, she’d said. When he comes into the lounge, I swear I drool on myself.

“Makes sense he’d like that. The fewer kids he has in detention, the more time he has to plant real-estate signs.”

She winced. “I need to talk to him about that. Teachers complain that he disappears from campus to work his side job. Not helpful, especially since I need him on board to fully implement my system.”

“Tell him what I tell my boys—work hard or get out.”

“I wish it were that simple. I need him on my side. Otherwise, he can foment turmoil and start rumors, make my job much harder. So I have to show him respect while convincing him to do his job. There are nuances.”

“Nuances? Jesus. I could never do your job. I wouldn’t know a nuance if it kicked me in the crotch.”

Her gaze dipped unconsciously to that part of his body, then up to his face. He’d seen what she’d done and heat flashed in his eyes.

She flushed, fighting off her own response.

Gabe cleared his throat. “So…nuances. How you dealt with Alex and the protest had nuance, for sure. It didn’t hurt that he’s got a crush on you.”

“I noticed that.”

“Now he wants to know if you need to meet with him again.”

“You mean as leader of the rebels?” She smiled. “I could thank him for his cooperation, I guess.”

“That’d be good. You can reinforce what it takes to be a leader. The kid’s on the razor’s edge of trouble. He’s got a lot of anger. A friend just jumped into the Double Deuce and he wants Alex to join.”

“That’s not good.”

“Plus, he’s been tagging with a crew of toys.”

“Toys?”

“Kiddie graf writers. The city’s cracking down on graffiti crimes—major fines and jail time. Juvenile hall will wreck him.” Gabe’s gaze went distant and stormy.

Like with Robert. She was sure that’s what he was thinking, with the anniversary of Robert’s funeral a day away. Robert and Alex were alike, now that she thought about it—both angry, both artistic, both small. Robert’s nickname had been Chapo—shortie in Spanish.

Gabe’s gaze returned to her. “His mother’s useless. His current stepfather beats him. Thanks to STRIKE, he holds his own with his big brother, but now the asshole wants Alex to help him steal cars.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Not unusual around here. So use his crush, throw in some nuances, and maybe you can help him stay straight.”

“I’ll do that.” She paused. “You care about him.”

“I care about all my guys.”

“I get that, Gabe. I do.” She caught his gaze and held it. “And I care about my students—not just their test scores.”

“Point taken.” A connection snapped into place between them—crisp as two pieces of a puzzle. They understood each other better.

“I need to get back to the job. Reheat the gyros in the oven, not the microwave. The pita absorbs more juices that way. Enjoy.”

“I will. Thank you. I’m glad we could work this out.”

“Me, too,” he said. Then he was gone.

She’d gotten what she was after—rent money for her program—even though she had to sacrifice some space. But like every encounter with Gabe, there was more to it than getting the cash. Kicking STRIKE out would have felt wrong. Because of their past? Because his fighters loved STRIKE and he loved them? It didn’t matter. Not really. For better or worse, STRIKE was in. She would just have to make the best of it.