Stop Laughing
Greer
“You did what?” Bram gapes at me.
“It isn’t a big deal.”
“Say that again. Because I’m having a hard time believing that an international superstar just randomly agreed to play at our little festival.”
“Tory isn’t like that.”
“Tory. You call Kia Lemaris ‘Tory’.”
“That’s her name, Victoria Kia Lemaris, and she’s a nice, normal person.” Mostly normal. “Sometimes I call her Tory, and sometimes I call her Kia.” Well, unless we’re near our mothers. Then, and only then, is she Victoria. “This isn’t a big deal.”
“It’s a very big deal. Not to mention the club isn’t going to want to pay for her to come.”
Well duh. She doesn’t walk out of the house for less than seven figures lately. “They won’t pay a cent.”
“You aren’t going to—”
“She isn’t charging me anything. She does charity events several times a year. This will be one of them. And she can stay with me. We’ll just need to find a place for her sound and lighting crew to sleep.”
“You got your friend to play the festival for free?”
“And the winter ball the next day.”
“Winter ball. How big did you make this thing?”
“It’s not that big. And I found ways for it to help the community.
Corsages from the florist. The diner is doing a giant charcuterie board instead of passed appetizers.
The dress shop is sure to be packed with people.
All I need to do is find a band or DJ to play when Kia isn’t singing.
Oh, and we’re going to have a photographer going around taking snapshots to help sell tickets for next year’s event.
And the little card shop is going to handle programs for both the concert and the ball.
Think of all the money this will bring into the town.
” Why is he making this into a big deal?
“How are you paying for all of this? Because I know not everyone is agreeing to work for free.”
Um…Distract. “I kissed my grumpy neighbor yesterday.”
“WHAT?” The sandwich he was holding but completely ignoring drops half onto the plate, half onto the table.
“I kissed him.”
“That’s what I heard the first time. What happened to not liking him and swearing off men?”
That’s a good question. I want to blame it on hormones. “He got sweet. When my ex came back—”
“Your ex? Came to Silent Valley? Why?”
“Because he’s a self-centered idiot that decided I would be thrilled to take him back after his intern lied to him about being pregnant.”
Bram laughs. “That guy has nerve.”
“He already had the prenup written up. Like Rothswyler would accept that. He really does think I’m stupid. So anyway, the grumpy, hot neighbor came over to rescue me. Then we talked for hours, I had breakfast with him, then mauled him in my front yard.”
“Go back to having breakfast with him?” Bram's fingers roll backwards with the words.
“Get your mind out of the gutter.” Though, could I imagine having breakfast with Havoc the other way?
All too easily. That man is walking sin, tempting me to do all sorts of things I would never do.
Including kissing a stranger in my front yard.
Darrel and I didn’t kiss until our tenth date.
“And I found out he’s a biker like you.”
“Like me?”
“You know, in the gang thingy.”
“Don’t call it a gang thingy,” Bram practically groans.
“Whatever. You know what I meant.” Calling it a club doesn’t change what it is.
“So tell me about this biker that you kissed.”
“It’s really not a big deal.” Though it felt epic.
“That’s the thing. When one of my brothers kisses a girl like you, he isn’t playing games.”
Um, between him and Dylan, I might need to freak out a little bit. “Wait, what do you mean, a girl like me?”
“Are you serious, or are you fishing for compliments?”
I stab my piece of cake with my fork and glare at him.
“Fine, I’ll take that as you’re serious. There are a few types of women. But for the sake of this discussion, we’ll talk about two. Women that want to have fun, and women that you put on the back of your bike.”
“Is this some kind of secret code? I like to have fun, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t enjoy riding on a bike.”
“That’s not what I meant. Putting a woman on the back of your bike means claiming her. It’s kind of like putting a ring on her finger.”
“What? No, I am not looking to get another ring on my finger. It was just a kiss.”
“Keep telling yourself that.”
“He’s got a kid—”
“Your neighbor is Havoc.”
“Yes.”
Bram starts laughing. “Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.”
None of this seems brilliant to me. “I’ve got to go. I’ve got an appointment soon.”
***
Men drive me out of my mind. Bram laughed even as I walked out of the restaurant door. He lost his mind, and so has Havoc if he thinks I’m going to ride on his bike as a symbol of anything.
Pregnant women don’t ride motorcycles.
It’s so easy to pretend that I’m not pregnant. Are you okay in there, little one? Did that diet hurt you? Tomorrow I’m going to go see the doctors just to make sure everything is okay. I don’t think that can affect him genetically, but I’ll do the test if the doctors think it’s important.
Everything is just fine.
There’s nothing to worry about.
Well, except for going to the principal’s office. The only time I saw the headmaster in boarding school was when he introduced himself to me and said what an honor it was to have me in school.
Basically, he was thrilled to have my money and the building my family was sure to donate while I attended.
Will this one be the same?
Do public schools even accept donations?
“Mrs. Hestons, what can I do for you?” The principal’s office is nothing like the headmaster’s. But the man has the same sour look as my headmaster. “Do you have a child in our school? Your name doesn’t sound familiar to me.”
“No.”
“Then why are you in my office?”
“One of my neighbors is a student here. He mentioned that you don’t have any dances except for prom—”
“Which student is that?”
Should I tell him? Creed doesn’t seem to have any issues with shyness. “Creed—”
The principal holds up a finger and touches his intercom. “Please call Creed to the office.” Then he turns back to me. “What exactly do you want to do?”
“I want to see what I can do to help bring back dances for the kids.”
The principal leans back in his pleather chair and stares at me with a mixture of skepticism and interest. He probably thinks I’m crazy. Who cares about kids having dances when they don’t have any children of their own?
The key word is ‘yet’. My son might want to go to dances just as much as Creed.
Probably not.
Darrel wasn’t really one for them.
This is all about getting Creed what he wants.
We both sit there assessing each other in silence until Creed arrives.
“Do you know this woman?” the principal asks.
“Sure do. Hey, Greer. She’s a close friend of my father’s.” Creed sprawls out in the chair like only a comfortable man—or in this case, boy—can do.
I wouldn’t quite describe us like that. Maybe more like barely friends who sort of kissed once. It was an amazing kiss. The best kiss. If I’d kissed Havoc before Darrel…Don’t think about things like that. You can’t change the past.
The principal’s attitude changes. “Oh. I didn’t know that. If she had come with your father—”
“Dad had stuff to do, but he plans on visiting you himself as well.”
“There’s no need for that. I’m sure we can fix whatever concerns you might have.”
“I want you to reinstitute school dances.”
The principal’s eyes bug out. “That is one request I can’t acquiesce to, as much as I wish I could. We’ve simply been priced out of them. The prices that we can charge for tickets so that all the students can attend would price out most students.”
“Even if we do all the decorating ourselves? We could do a school fundraiser.” Creed makes some very reasonable suggestions.
“We’re already doing that. They barely cover after-school activities like band and sports. We simply can’t afford it. Not to mention, there hasn’t been much parental involvement. I can’t ask teachers to do any more without paying them. I’m sorry, but it’s simply not possible.”
Now is the time for me to step in. “Creed, would you wait outside while I speak to the principal privately?”
Creed raises an eyebrow at me, but nods and walks out.
“Really, Mrs. Hestons, there isn’t anything I can do.”
“But there is something I can do.” I reach into my purse and take out one of Rothswylers’ cards. “Your school is going to apply for a grant. My lawyer will ensure that everything is taken care of.”
“Grants aren’t that easy to get. We can apply, but the likelihood—”
“I’m sorry. I think you misunderstood me. You already have the grant. You just need to tell him how much you need. Not just for the dances, but also to cover the extracurriculars that you were speaking about.”
The principal stares at me speechlessly.
“This money only comes with one restriction. No one knows it was me who provided it. Your school simply applied for a grant that it desperately needed.”
“We can do that.” His head bounces up and down.
“You will also let that lawyer know when you need grants for other things. Like books for your library or a new library.”
“Is this a joke?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
“No, ma’am…but what you’re talking about—”
“Me. I’m not talking about anything. I wasn’t ever here. But consider me a volunteer to help with organizing the dance.” I stand up and offer my hand. “It was very nice meeting you.”
The principal takes my hand, mumbling something about appreciating it and helping kids.
Creed’s waiting patiently with a massive mathematics book open in his lap. There’s no way that book came from this public school. It looks to be a high-level college book.
Someone’s an overachiever.
“Do I even have to ask if things went well?”
“It seems your principal was a little more amenable when I asked him.”
“Was that it?”
I shrug.
“My dad is in so much trouble.”
No, he isn’t. This isn’t a big thing. When he finds out I’m pregnant, we’ll probably go back to barely tolerating each other.