Page 80 of Forgotten Deeds

“That’s not a reason. Tell me why you don’t want to go,” Lily gently asks.

“Some of the girls are mean to me,” Iris admits.

“Who?” I demand. Lily cuts me a warning look, one that I ignore. “Who, rainbow goddess?”

“Megan and Harper,” she tells me.

“How are they mean?” Lily asks. “What do they say?”

“They call me dumb,” Iris admits, and my blood fucking boils.

“Sweetie, you know that’s not true. You are so smart, and they’re just saying that because someone was probably mean to them and told them that, okay?” Lily soothes her daughter’s hair.

“What else do they say?” I press. Lily shoots me another look, one I likewise ignore.

“That I’m poor, and I don’t have a dad,” Iris admits.

“None of that is true, either,” Lily says. “Just tell your teacher the next time they’re being mean.”

Nah, we don’t snitch. I have a better way to handle it, one that I keep to myself as I pour Iris a bowl of cereal. “Go on to class. Me and the rainbow goddess can handle it from here.”

“Okay.” Lily nods, but doesn’t look sure. “Her school uniform’s laid out on her dresser, and she likes to wear her hair in a ponytail, and you’ll have to pack her lunch and two snacks, and don’t forget her water bottle and backpack, and—”

“Wifey, I’ve got it. Now go.” I grab Lily and kiss her senseless so she’ll stop fretting.

* * *

“Bye, rainbow goddess,” I tell Iris, squatting down and hugging her.

“Bye,” she tells me, walking hesitantly inside her classroom.

After introducing myself to Iris’ teacher, I exit the building. A group of moms is hanging out near the entrance, and I pause, pretending to check my phone.

One of the moms takes the bait, strutting over. She has a water bottle in one hand, a coffee cup in the other—and a bag around her waist I don’t care what anyone fucking says, is a fanny pack. “Hey, I’ve never seen you before at drop-off.” She eyes me up and down. “I’m Becca, Megan’s mom.”

How fortuitous. “Hello, I’m Darius. Iris’ stepdad,” I say with a friendly smile.

“Oh, I didn’t know Lily was married.” I think she just tried to arch an eyebrow; hard to tell with all the botulism she’s injected into her face. “I always felt sorry for the poor thing, having to juggle it all by herself. We all wondered how she managed—in school while struggling to pay the private tuition here,” she stage-whispers.

I envision the best way to kill this woman. I’d start by stringing her up and ripping off her fake fingernails, followed by her real fingernails. Jesus, I’d have to tape her mouth shut; I couldn’t stand to listen to her nasally voice.

“What is it you do for a living?” she asks, sizing me up.

“Personal trainer,” I tell her.

“I bet,” she purrs. “You look like you’re in good shape.” Her eyes take an entitled stroll down my body, glancing at my arm before landing on my dick. “My, what a big tattoo you have.”

Her eyes meet mine, and I curl my lips back, baring my teeth. “All the better to rip you to fucking shreds, my dear.”

A nervous sound—somewhere between a gasp and a giggle—escapes her lips. “What?”

“You heard me. Your kid and her friend want to tell my kid she’s dumb, poor, and doesn’t have a dad, I’ll ensure the no dad part is true for Megan and Harper. Once that happens, the poor part will take care of itself.” No way this woman does anything for a living other than stir up shit.

Her mouth gapes like a fish, and before she regains the ability to speak, I tell her, “See you around, Becca.” I snap my teeth before turning around and walking off.

Chapter Thirty

Darius

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