It’s tedious and boring, but sometimes I find good shit on their networks. The real fun begins when they think I’m bluffing and I release the footage. I’m ruthless, and refuse to repeat myself.
“Who is it?” he asks as if he’s willing to entertain my request.
“Beckham Christopher Kennedy,” I tell him. I haven’t had a chance to look into our teacher yet, but I plan to find out all I can.
Dad blows out a breath, exchanging a glance with Alaric’s father.
“That bad, huh?” Alaric asks, whistling softly.
“That’s Eddy Kennedy’s son,” Dad explains. “From what I understand, Beckham has been teaching across the country until recently. I was going to ask you about him, but didn’t know if you’d have a chance to get close to him.”
“Guess we were wrong,” Alaric’s dad smirks.
“The professor is ridiculously straightlaced,” I grunt, running the information I just received through my mind. “I’m surprised that he’s the heir to his dad’s empire.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think he wants any part of it,” Dad says. “We don’t always get a choice in how destiny rolls the dice, do we?”
Shaking my head, I agree. We have bent over backward to give Jamie everything he could ever want without having to choose, but not everyone has our parents or a pack that’s as supportive as we are.
I can’t imagine doing anything that would dim Jamie’s light. He’s goofy and fun, but he can flip his shit in seconds. We’re all murderers, Jamie just hides his better behind his easy smile.
Maybe I’ll have to use that in order to find out more about the good professor.
“So kidnapping is off the table,” I say, pouting.
“Fuck him raw if that’s what you need.” Dad grins. “Just don’t rock the boat.”
“That’s why we wanted to kidnap him,” Alaric says, throwing his weight behind my words. He may have told me that I couldn’t, but the second there was the green light, he’d be all in.
I love that he’s not a hypocrite.
“Yeah, I think his position at the school is going to cock block us,” I sigh.
We’re all very close with our fathers. This isn’t even the tip of the iceberg about the shit that we talk about. My dad has watched me skin a man and then gave me commentary on my technique. This is just an average Tuesday afternoon for us.
“Well that sucks,” Dad says. “Do you need a fight?”
Alaric hides a smile as I nod eagerly.
“Yes, I’m dying over here,” I complain dramatically.
“I’ll make sure you’re on the roster,” Alaric’s dad says, pushing off the wall. “Want to go twice?”
“Fuck yeah, if you can fit me in,” I reply.
“I got you,” he says, walking away.
“Next fight is tomorrow,” Dad tells me. “Can you swing that?”
“Yeah, we’ll tell Jamie when we get home so he can decide if he wants to come or not,” I decide. “What time is the fight?”
“Your slot is for eleven,” Alaric’s dad says, coming back. “I know Jamie hates it when things conflict with practice.”
I can’t help but get excited that he paid attention to Jamie’s schedule. Once football fully ramps up into gear, we won’t be able to make many of his games due to work. It’s nice that we can make tomorrow a pack event.
“Thanks, Orpheus,” I say happily. “Alright, we’re going to head out. I need to make sure everything is squared away before tomorrow night.”
“You shit,” Dad mutters. “I see how it is. You just wanted to see if you could get your way.”
