Chapter Five
Sitting in class on Monday proved a chore for CJ Caldwell.
After all the club business, he still wasn’t back to normal.
He definitely wasn’t in the mood to be a high school student.
For the entire weekend, he hadn’t socialized much, just coming downstairs in the evening time for dinner and then returning to his room, pondering the past days.
His father had spent a long time with him Friday evening, talking about everything and nothing, seeing to CJ’s well-being.
CJ finally convinced Dad he was fine. He just needed space and time alone.
When he arrived at school this morning, he’d thought the situation put to rest. Instead, his thoughts strayed away from his lessons and back to his father.
And Torie. Not her specifically—the way she died.
The manner in which Dad had killed her .
No doubt she deserved retribution. She ignored everyone’s warnings to back off. CJ’s. Diesel’s. Aunt Kendall’s. Dad’s .
Mom’s .
Especially Mom’s, the most important person in this sad situation. The one who was hurt the most by Torie’s determination to steal Dad away. Mom ordered Torie’s death. She didn’t gentle Dad’s intentions with reminders of what a good man he was. She’d allowed the beast lurking within him free rein.
CJ never saw the monster. He’d witnessed his father kill two men and saw the aftermath when he’d killed two more. CJ hadn’t seen remorse, but neither had he glimpsed such viciousness.
Days later, CJ still didn’t know how to feel. He hated the part of himself that rejoiced Torie’s demise. She was gone. His parents could finally return to the place they’d been prior to November 23 rd .
On the other hand, CJ knew Torie’s ex-husband. He knew of her son. When she didn’t return what would happen then? D. Elliot would report her as missing and news outlets would plaster her image everywhere as they had Mom’s dickhead financial advisor?
What would that mean for Dad? Sooner or later, a smart cop would put two and two together and realize Brett and Torie had ties to Dad. Of all the things he and Dad talked about, D. Elliot and his response once he realized Torie wouldn’t return hadn’t come up.
CJ rubbed his eyes. He hadn’t slept much since Friday.
His thoughts ran amok. He couldn’t forget Dad strangling…
he couldn’t forget the fear on Uncle Johnnie’s, Uncle Digger’s, and Uncle Val’s faces.
Uncle Val didn’t have a reason, but the other two did.
CJ couldn’t forget tension so thick, it should’ve stopped one of the bullets Dad fired into Torie’s head.
Tipping his head back, he stared at the ceiling. “Goddamn,” he mumbled .
“Mr. Caldwell?”
Sighing, CJ looked at Mr. Wilhemhein. The math teacher was a combination of Lumbly and Billson. Whether he was a motherfucker or a caring authority figure depended on the day.
“Sir?”
“I don’t remember writing anything on the ceiling. Since you think I did, please provide the answer to my question.”
Definitely a motherfucker today. Of all fucking days.
“Can you repeat the question?”
The teacher shook his bald head and smirked. “I cannot.”
Annoyance surged into CJ. He was in no mood for his bullshit. Fuck, he wasn’t in the mood for school. “Then I can’t answer the question.”
“If you don’t, you will get a zero for today.”
Passing Pre-Calc was the least of his fucking problems. CJ shrugged. “Save us both time and give me the zero, sir.”
The bell rang, rescuing CJ from more interaction with the teacher. He waited a moment, in case Wilhemhein asked to speak to him. When that didn’t happen, he stood, and snatched his backpack from his chair.
Students crowded the hallway, rushing to their next class or, like him, to a place to spend their lunch break.
Unlike most of the buildings, Pacific Hall, or the math building, enjoyed natural light from the dozens of windows on all three floors.
Motivational posters, bulletin boards, and whiteboards decorated the interior walls.
In his freshman year, CJ was excited to have access to all the buildings that made up the Upper School. Columbia Hall—the Middle School—felt stifling with its depressing Gothic décor .
Every two steps, someone threw a, “hey, CJ,” his way. The greetings slowed him down, though he nodded or spoke to everyone. The fucked up images in his head weren’t their fault.
Outside, the cold air hit CJ immediately. He needed to go to his locker in Franklin Hall, the Language Arts building, then head to Lewis Hall for a bite to eat, although he wasn’t hungry.
Zipping his jacket, he turned onto the walkway between the buildings, taking the shorter route, though the longer one might’ve helped clear his head.
On the side of Merriweather Hall, a lone figure caught his attention. Harley . She was crying. But when wasn’t she crying lately? Thank fuck, she didn’t notice him. He started forward, then halted. His anger at her deceit faded in one of his father’s twelve gunshots into Torie’s head.
Fuck.
Even after her death, she continued to fuck up everything.
As for Harley, he felt nothing for her. Not love nor hate. However, she was a club member’s daughter. Long ago, the older kids were tasked with watching over the younger ones. As the president’s son, he bore an even greater burden.
He redirected his steps, reaching her within seconds. “What’s up, Harley?”
She raised her pitiful gaze to him. Her bruises from the fight she’d had with her mother were all but gone, but her eyes were haunted. She sniffled.
A smidgeon of sympathy hit CJ. He gritted his teeth and looked at his watch. “Shouldn’t you be at rehearsal for the play?”
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 guard slipping. 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, he knew she’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, but you’re a 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, it sounded like 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.”
“I knew Harley was supposed to come in for rehearsal today. That’s why I hung around. But I need to get upstairs. You have this covered?”
“If I can kill Nardo.”
“Ignore the motherfucker, CJ. Marvey knows we’re here,” he said, referring to the dean of the Upper School. “He won’t interfere, but fucking murder will be harder to overlook.” He gave him a pointed look. “I’m pretty sure your old man would prefer you not fucking fight right now.”
“Can I at least tell Harley we’re going to the cafeteria? I’m not in the fucking mood for Nardo, Uncle Val.”
“If she’ll go, that’s between you and her.”