Chapter Thirteen
Chapter
Thirteen
Boys Like You
Jagger
Outside the school, Jagger sat on his bike next to
Dutch, who was also sitting his.
They’d found a place just around the corner where they could
see the entrance to the school, but you’d have to be looking to see them
watching.
They were this way because they didn’t need anyone getting
up in their shit about what they were doing.
It was bordering on creeping.
But Jagger wanted answers.
Since that sitch with Mal the week
before, Jagger had made a point to hang at the store, mostly just to be around,
be visible.
Be available.
For Mal.
Mal hadn’t taken him up on this in the way Jagger wanted,
sharing what might be going down at school (or after it) that continued to drag
his mood down.
That didn’t mean Mal didn’t respond to Jagger being around.
They connected.
It was surface, but definitely Mal got something out of
Jagger giving a shit.
Could be it elevated his position in the kid gang at the
store, having Jagger’s attention, Jagger being Archie’s, Archie being so
fucking awesome.
Could be he just needed a consistent man in his life since
his dad was temporarily out of the picture, and Fabe didn’t play favorites, but
he was also at work, and his work wasn’t hanging with the kids, so he didn’t
have the time.
“What’s the gig with his dad again?” Dutch asked, bringing
Jagger out of his thoughts and into the now.
His convo with Archie that weekend got him to thinking.
It also prodded him to reach out to his brother, share what
Archie did for her community and get into what was going on with Mal.
He finished this with sharing with Dutch that he thought it
was time for some sleuthing, and asked him if he wanted to join in.
First, Dutch thought it was the shit that Archie stepped up
for her people that way (and he was right).
Second, Dutch hadn’t hesitated when Jagger asked if he
wanted in.
And there they were.
Jag felt good about this.
It was right. Two brothers hanging together, working
something important. It was how it should be.
And maybe he should go to his ma and Hound, share about
Archie, her kids and Mal and get their take on it.
One thing Keely and Hound Ironside knew was raising boys.
But for now…
“The dad’s in the military. He was transferred. He’s now
stationed in one of the Carolinas, and he’s currently deployed,” he answered
Dutch’s question. “But I get the sense from Archie that the dad isn’t an
issue.”
“But the kid doesn’t talk about it?” Dutch asked.
“Nope,” Jagger answered, thinking this said a lot, just not
certain what it said.
Dutch didn’t ask about the mom. Or the sick grandma.
He asked about the dad, like the dad might be an issue, when
in this case, the dad wasn’t an issue.
But that was Dutch’s first go-to.
And there it was.
It was a thing, boys and their dads.
It wasn’t just Jag.
It totally was a thing.
On this thought, Mal came out of the school.
And he did it walking fast.
This heightened Jagger’s attention, since Mal wasn’t doing
anything fast these days. He still slunk around the store like he had shoes
made of concrete.
“There he is,” Jagger said.
“Which one?”
“Black kid. Jeans. White tee. Gray hoodie.”
“Got him.”
Jag’s back snapped straight when he saw what came next.
“And there are the twins. The two white fucks following
him.”
Watching Mal walk like he was trying to look like he wasn’t
running away, but was totally running away, Jag rolled his head on his
shoulders.
While he did, he felt—and heard—three pops.
They were so deep, Dutch heard them too. Jag knew it when he
felt Dutch’s eyes on him.
“Shit, brother,” Dutch said quietly. “That’s fucked up.”
“It’s all right.”
“It isn’t. Seriously, how are you that wound up when you’re livin’ the goodness with Archie? Is this kid under your
skin that much?” Dutch asked.
Jagger had a feeling that wasn’t about Mal.
Jag kept his eyes on the kids as they made their quick way
down the sidewalk when he answered, “You know it happens. It always happens no
matter what’s going on in my life.”
“You gotta get on top of that,”
Dutch advised.
“Right,” Jagger muttered, then louder, “We don’t roll, we’ll
lose them.”
He felt Dutch’s focus shift away. “Two bikes are loud. We
need to give them some more—”
Dutch stopped talking when they watched Aaron Harris advance
fast on Mal and shove him so hard, Mal went down to his hands and knees.
Seeing that, without a word between the riders, two bikes
roared to life when Aaron didn’t hesitate to draw back a foot to kick.
Jag and Dutch rolled out, and when they got close, like they
had a mind meld, they both rolled up.
Dutch, straight up on the sidewalk, cutting off the
Harrises’ retreat, Jagger, beyond the action, cutting off an advance.
The second Harris brother, Allan, who’d been hanging back
while Aaron whaled on Mal, tried to make a break for it, but was caught short
by Dutch grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him around, giving him a
shove to keep him pinned between the bikes.
Aaron not only saw there was no retreat, school had just let
out. There were kids everywhere.
He’d waited until they were off school property, and
probably out of sightline of staff, to instigate his attack.
But now he had an audience.
And he was so intent to retain his street cred, for him,
retreat wasn’t an option.
With Jag and Dutch in the mix, he was too young to
completely hide his fear, though.
Jagger parked his bike, switched off the ignition and
dismounted.
Dutch had already touched one of the kids, Jagger didn’t
think it wise to go there.
What he should do, he had no clue.
He had to go with his gut.
“What’d I tell you, if I found out you were fuckin’ with my
boy?” he demanded irately, eyes locked to Aaron, but he jerked his head down to
Mal who was pulling himself up from the sidewalk.
Aaron had gotten a kick in and then some. Jag saw it before
they rolled in.
“You can’t—” Aaron started.
Although Jagger didn’t advance, he leaned toward Aaron, and
they were not close, but the way Jagger did it, Aaron still shut his trap and
leaned away.
“You don’t know what I can do, motherfucker,” he threatened.
“And I can guaran-damn-tee you, you just bought trouble. Now fuck off.” When
neither twin moved, he roared, “Now!”
Allan bolted.
Aaron had to save face, so he glared at Jagger a beat before
he turned and jogged in the direction his brother took.
Jag watched him go, caught Dutch’s eye, saw his brother’s
jaw was tight, knew he was pissed (and that would be very pissed), but
he wasn’t half as pissed as Jagger.
Jag then looked down at Mal.
“You okay?”
“Good, yeah, okay,” Mal muttered.
“Bud, that piece of shit kicked you.”
“I’m alright.”
“You wanna ride to the shop with
me on my bike?”
Mal shook his head and he did it quick, glancing around
under his brow at the kids who were hanging for the show.
Jagger felt that. At Mal’s age, he probably wouldn’t climb
on the back of some guy’s bike either. And he not only grew up with bikers, he
knew one day he’d be one.
It was then Jagger looked around, and he saw Martin, Colby
and Dex, three of Archie’s kids standing close.
What he wanted to do was ask why the fuck Mal was coming out
of that school by himself when the Harris twins might think twice if he had a
crew with him.
But they still had an audience, what with two bikers rolling
up like that, their bikes still on the sidewalk.
So he’d get into that later.
“Walk your bud to the store, yeah?” he asked them. “Make
sure he’s good. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure!” Martin said readily and with some exuberance.
Right.
Maybe it wasn’t that he was Archie’s and they thought Archie
was cool.
Maybe they just thought Jag was cool.
Colby and Dex only nodded, though Colby came forward, tagged
the arm of Mal’s hoodie and said, “C’mon, Mal. Let’s get to S.I.L.”
They started to stroll off, but Mal stopped, looked back and
up, mumbled a “Thanks” Jagger almost couldn’t hear, then they moved away.
Jagger watched them go and felt Dutch come up to his side.
“Okay, man, that’s an issue. There’s bullying and then
there’s shoving a kid to the ground and kicking him.”
“The mom has to know,” Jag said, not taking his eyes from
the retreating boys.
“The mom has to know,” Dutch agreed.
Jag was not liking this.
He explained why to Dutch. “I’ll never get to him if I rat
to his mom.”
“Maybe not,” Dutch replied.
Jagger turned to him.
“Okay, probably not,” Dutch allowed.
“They can do him damage, and it’s smart not to hit him in
the face, Dutch.”
Dutch’s jaw got tight again.
“You don’t just know that kind of shit. You learn
that kind of shit. They’re fuckin’ twelve,” Jagger carried on.
“This is not about them, Jag. It’s about your kid. Mal. You gotta tell Archie. His mom has to know. The school has to
know. But first, you need to call Archie. Someone has to look him over. At the
very least, he’s got scrapes from takin’ that fall. The kid was wearing sneaks,
not steel-toed boots, but a kick can break bones no matter what you got on your
foot. He needs to be checked out.”
“By a doc or his mom, it isn’t cool Archie does it.”
“Exactly.”
“Fuck,” Jag muttered.
“This sucks, but it’s better than where you were half an
hour ago, not knowing what was up with him. He might not like how you handle
it, Jagger. But the bottom line is, you’ve found out it’s something that needs
to get handled, and now it’ll be handled.”
Jag nodded.
Then he got out his phone.
Before he made the call, he asked his brother, “You wanna check out Archie’s shop?”
Dutch didn’t reply verbally.
But with the way he smiled, he didn’t have to.
They moved to their bikes with Jagger calling Archie.
She didn’t pick up, which didn’t bother him. She wasn’t
prone to lounging on her couch all day waiting for a call from Jagger. And on
his bike, he’d probably be to the shop faster than Mal.
They backed their bikes off the sidewalk and rode side by