14. Lorcan
Lorcan
"Where's Maeve?" I’ve spent the past hour in my office going through inventory receipts and want to take a break with my wife.
"She got a call." Sully doesn't stop pulling the pint in his hand. "Had to run to the school. Something with one of the kids. The oldest, I think."
"When?"
He shrugs. “Ten minutes ago. Maybe fifteen."
Fifteen minutes ago. Damn. She got a call about Jamie, and ran—alone. Doesn't she know she's not alone anymore?
"Sully. Bar's yours."
“Sure thing, boss."
The school is seventeen minutes away. I make it in nine.
I find Jamie parked on a bench outside the main office like a prisoner awaiting sentencing.
His lip is split. He's staring at the floor tiles with his jaw locked so tight I can see the muscle jumping, and when he looks up and sees me, fear flashes over his expression.
Does he think I’m going to punish him?
"Maeve's in there," he mutters. “I’m in trouble. Big time.”
I sit down next to him on the bench.
"Tell me what happened. All of it. From the start."
He glances at the office door. Then at me. Then, he releases a long sigh and tells me everything.
My blood goes from simmer to full rolling boil in about forty seconds flat, but I keep my face easy, because I know better than to let it show. Rage is a tool, not a leash. O'Rourkes know how to wield power. You don't spend it screaming in a hallway.
When Jamie’s done, I nod once.
"Okay." I stand and straighten my jacket. “Let’s go.”
Jamie blinks up at me. "I'm supposed to wait out here. The principal said."
"Where's the other kid?"
"In there. In the meeting."
I look at the closed door. The other boy is inside with his parents and the principal, giving his version of events, while the fourteen-year-old is benched in the hallway, unable to defend himself.
“Let’s go,” I say again, and this time there's no question it’s an order.
I don't knock.
I swing the door open with a smile in place, and stroll into the office like I own the fucking building.
"Sorry I'm late," I announce to the room. "Traffic was murder."
Five faces swing toward me. A tight-assed principal behind a desk. A country-club couple, a teenager who's holding an ice pack against his cheek like a pussy, and my wife, facing them, a pen in her hand. Her eyes go wide at the sight of me.
"Lorcan,” she breathes.
"Hello, gorgeous." I cross to her, kiss the top of her head, and very gently take the pen out of her hand and set it on the desk. Then I stand beside her chair, one hand on her shoulder, and beam at the room.
"Excuse me." The principal—Galdek, per the nameplate—draws herself up. "This is a private meeting. And Jamie,” she spots him in the doorway. “You were instructed to wait outside."
"Jamie won't be waiting outside.” I say it pleasantly. Sunnily, even. “He’ll be in here facing his accuser.” I nod at the pussy with the ice pack.
"And you are?" the father asks, in the voice men like him use on valets.
"Maeve's husband." I keep smiling. "Now. Somebody catch me up. What exactly is the problem here?"
Galdek folds her hands on the inch-thick folder and gives it to me self-righteously.
She mentions an unprovoked attack, witnesses, Jamie's file, his anger issues, and the home situation.
Then moves on to the impending five-day suspension, permanent record, and a report to the caseworker. The Whitmores nod along.
I listen cordially to every word. Then I stop smiling.
“I assume you all know,” I say, and my voice drops into a register that makes the room go still. “The reason for the altercation.”
I look at Tyler, and Tyler suddenly finds his ice pack fascinating.
“Puss—I mean, Tyler here cornered a nine-year-old girl on the playground.
Jamie's little sister, Cara. Due to extreme trauma, Cara doesn't speak.
So Tyler here decided it would be a good idea to bully her.
Call her stupid. Call her a freak. He got his friends laughing.
And when she tried to walk away, he grabbed her arm—hard enough to leave marks.
Crescent-shaped fingernail marks. I'd be happy to have our family physician photograph and document them within the hour. "
The mother's face turns beet red. Her mouth opens and closes. I keep going.
"Jamie saw it happen. He witnessed an older, much bigger boy tormenting a special-needs little girl—verbally abusing her, physically assaulting her—and Jamie did what any decent person would do.
He defended his younger, more vulnerable sister.
" I turn to Galdek. "So I have questions.
Why isn't this school protecting Cara from bullies?
Why is Jamie the only child sitting in the hallway while the boy who assaulted a nine-year-old sits in here with his parents and an ice pack?
And did one single adult in this building ask Jamie his side of the story before writing up that report? "
Silence.
Galdek's hands are no longer folded so confidently on the folder. Her eyes flick to Tyler, and I watch the color drain out of her face drop by drop, because she didn't ask. Nobody asked. The file made it easy not to.
"That’s—” the father starts, recovering. "Now hold on. Who do you think you are, coming in here—"
“Who am I? As I said, I’m Maeve’s husband.” I lean closer. “Lorcan O'Rourke."
The name lands in the room like a bomb.
The father's face falls. His bluster collapses in on itself. His golf-club tan goes a shade paler.
I offer my hand because I’m diplomatic that way. He shakes it because he's too frightened not to, and I hold on just a beat too long.
"Mr. O'Rourke. I…uh…we didn't realize…obviously there's been a misunderstanding, emotions running high, boys will be boys.”
"Boys will be boys." I look at Tyler. "Tyler will be suspended for bullying and assault. Five days.” I glance at Galdek. "That works for the school, I assume."
"That—yes." Galdek is already pulling a fresh incident report from her drawer. "Yes, given the new information, that's entirely appropriate."
"Jamie's suspension, of course, will be withdrawn and, since he was forced to step in and handle an incident that should have been handled by the administration, the school will issue a formal apology—which will be added to his file.
" I don't phrase it as a question, and she doesn't treat it as one. She nods as she writes.
I crouch down to Tyler's eye level. He shrinks back into his chair, ice pack forgotten.
"You got off easy today," I say it quietly, almost kindly. "Next time you won't be so lucky."
Then I straighten up and address the father.
"Cara and Jamie are O'Rourkes now. They have the full protection of the O'Rourke family behind them—every last one of the O’Rourke family and their associates. You might want to make sure your son knows it."
“Yes, yes, of course. He'll know it," the father says. "He knows it now."
"Wonderful. Great meeting." I clap Jamie on the shoulder. "Jamie, Maeve, we're leaving."
Jamie looks up at me like I've just walked on water. Maeve hasn't said a word.
She stands when I offer my hand, and walks out of that office with her chin up. But the second the door closes behind us, out in the empty hallway, she turns and stares at me like she's never seen me before.
"You just…” She stops. Starts over. "They were going to…and you just walked in and...”
"Handled it? Yeah." I lean in close so only she can hear me. “Nobody fucks with my family.”