Page 179 of Vicious Saint
“But Iamtaking you to school.”
Vic smiles at me like he’s got two weeks’ worth of constipation.
“Have a great first day of school, kiddo.”
“Yeah…thanks,” I tell him, watching Mom and Auntie round the table for a group hug.
“We love you,” Mom says right before Auntie adds, “Go kick some ass.”
“This is…weird.” I shrug them off, taking their bizarreness far enough to dust off my blazer.
“Stanley!” Theory waves when the old man appears next to Carlo, then jumps out of her seat and kisses Vic on the cheek. “Bye, Daddy. Love you lots.”
She bids farewell with blown kisses to Mom and Auntie, then takes off like a breeze across the room.
“Hey! Theory,” I call out right before she leaves. “Why don’t you just come with us? Stanley can meet you there.”
I can hear the crack in Saint’s neck as he twists it to glower at me.
“Oh! That’s a good idea.” She claps. “We can compare schedules. Maybe we’ll cross paths. Or sit together at lunch. I know there’s mixed grades.”
Vic is about to speak, but Saint beats him to the punch.
“Theory, go with Stanley.”
“But—”
“I saidgo.”
Theory rolls her eyes, but, like when Saint switched out her thigh high plaid skirt with plaid pants, doesn’t argue.
“What the hell was that about?” I stomp alongside the asshole as he exits the mansion, auto starting his pearly white Range Rover. “Why couldn’t Theory ride with us?”
Saint opens the passenger door for me to enter, but I root to the spot on the sidewalk with my chin in the air.
“Suit yourself.” He slams it shut and rounds the hood.
“Look at you…back to your old dickish self, getting into your old dickishRange Rover.”
“It’s the newest P400, Jimi. And you forgot to mention custom Lavell.”
As if I’m supposed to know what that means.
He jumps inside the SUV, closing the door as I follow behind with a growl.
“You were mean to her,” I say as Saint adjusts his rearview mirror.
“I don’t discriminate.”
Knowing my efforts will be useless, I move on to true pressing matters. “So…what did your dad say last night?”
He veers onto the street. “Got involved with the wrong people.”
“Wow. Super informative.”
“Just some bullshit with his job, Hendrix. Let it go.”
Twisting in my seat to face him, I take a few moments to appreciate how hot Saint looks leaning back with one hand gripping the steering wheel.
