I didn’t know if that guy deserved what I did to him. I didn’t have the power to decide who was innocent and who wasn’t. I followed orders.
That was my excuse, at least. I would do whatever I had to.
I slipped on a pair of sunglasses as I walked down the block, heading toward the sound of idling cars and children. I checked my watch: three thirty in the afternoon. I was right on time, though that wasn’t always the case. I hated making the kid wait, but in my line of work, I couldn’t always control my schedule. Anyway, I was better than his piece-of-shit mother, at least. She never showed up, no matter what.
I shook my head as scenes from the night before threatened to creep into my mind. Flashes of violence and fear came through no matter how hard I tried to resist them. To distract myself, I hummed softly, winding my way through the other parents picking up their kids. I spotted Richie sitting off to the side of the front door, his back to the brick façade, his nose buried in some weird-looking Gameboy.
“Yo, kid,” I called out, and he looked up.
A smiled broke across his face, and for a second I didn’t feel like I had blood underneath my fingernails.
“Hey, Liam,” he said, standing.
“How was it?”
“The usual.”
He looked down at his Gameboy and started playing again. I grinned at him, guiding him through the crowd with my hand on his back. Richie wasn’t a big talker, and that suited me just fine. I wasn’t the best with kids, but I was getting better. Richie was easy to deal with, at least.
Before we got far, I heard a voice cut through the din of chattering parents and screaming children.
“Mister Sullivan?”
I turned and looked back, and then I stood there blinking. Walking toward me through the crowd was this young, gorgeous blonde. She was wearing a simple white button-down shirt and a beige cardigan, and her hair framed her pretty face perfectly. Her lips were pink and full, and her eyes were an intense shade of green that I had never seen before. She was probably around my age, maybe a year or two younger, and her body was fantastic. I couldn’t help but eye her nice tits and curvy shape.
“Who’s this?” I said to Richie softly.
He glanced up. “Miss Boucher,” he said.
“Not helpful,” I muttered to him.
“Mister Sullivan?” she said again, getting closer.
I gave her my best “responsible parent” smile. “Yes, hey there, Miss Boucher.”
“It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Richie’s teacher,” she said, extending her hand.
That made sense. I took it and we shook. I blinked for a second and took off my sunglasses, surprised at the way her hand felt. It was soft but firm, and I wanted the touch to linger. I almost felt bad about wanting to fuck Richie’s teacher on her desk.
But not really.
“I’ve heard plenty of good things about you,” I said, laying it on.
She laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure. Richie is such a good student.”
I nudged him. “Hear that?”
“Yeah,” he said, not looking up.
I grinned at her. “Polite, too.”
She laughed again, and her expression turned more serious. “Mr. Sullivan, can I talk with you for a second?”
“Sure, but call me Liam.”
Her expression softened and she looked at Richie.
“Richie, why don’t you go sit over by the wall for a second?”
He looked at me and I nodded. He shrugged and walked back to where he had been sitting, plopped down, and resumed playing.
“What did he do?” I asked her, cutting to the chase.
She laughed softly and moved a step closer. I loved the sound of her laugh: melodic and gentle. I thought I could feel something between us, but I wasn’t sure. The place was crowded, practically teeming with kids and their parents, and my head was still buzzing with partial flashbacks.
“What makes you think he did something wrong?”
I shrugged. “Whenever a teacher wanted to talk to my parents, it was always because I messed up.”
She nodded softly. “Well, Liam, he got into a fight.”
“Richie got into a fight?”
“With a boy in his class, yes.”
I was surprised. Richie was one of the quietest kids I knew, and had never been in trouble before as far as I knew. I couldn’t imagine him getting mad enough to fight someone.
“What happened?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t see the whole thing. Richie says the other boy, Joshua, was saying things about his mother. Joshua says Richie hit him for no reason, but who knows.”
“Riche wouldn’t just hit a kid for no reason.”
“I think you’re right. But he can’t fight, for any reason, you know?”