I don’t think I’ve slept a solid hour all night, anticipating someone coming into the house. Then I settled on the idea that it was just my nerves. Maybe my mind was playing tricks on me after everything that happened with the salon. I was prepared to sleep in and spend the day regrouping and hanging out with Kaylie. Nowhere in those plans had I thought about being woken up at the ass crack of dawn by an unwanted visitor.
“It’s probably Mason bringing us breakfast, knowing his stubborn butt.” I should’ve known he wouldn’t stay gone long. “Come on. Let’s go see what he wants.”
“Yeah! Mason brings the best breakfasts!” Kaylie squeals, rolling off my bed and running for the doorway. I laugh at her excitement.
“You’re only saying that because you hope he brought you pancakes from Magpie’s Diner.” Kaylie smiles, rolling her eyes and tossing her arms up as if to say “duh”. She knows she’s spoiled and couldn’t care less.
Three more hard knocks sound as I reach for the door. “Okay. Geez, Mason, give a girl a second to get … out of bed.” My words are staggered as I open the door and find it’s not Mason, but Mrs. Pennington, our caseworker, on the other side.
“Miss Greene. Thank goodness.” She sighs. “I was beginning to wonder if you were all right.”
“I’m fine. But, um, Mrs. Pennington, what are you doing here? We’re not due for another visit for three more weeks,” I ask, dumbfounded.
“Yes. I know. But my boss received a call from an anonymous citizen who saw the damage to your shop and felt you and Kaylie were in some kind of imminent danger. My boss then called me with instructions to make an impromptu visit this morning. May I come in, dear?”
“Yes. Of course. Please have a seat. Just give me a minute to get dressed if you don’t mind. We just woke up. We got in late last night and that has led to a late start this morning, I’m afraid.” I say by way of explanation.
“Oh, of course, dear. I can only imagine what your day must have been like,” Mrs. Pennington sooths.
“Sissy’s windows were smashed to hell!” Kaylie shouts, bouncing.
Mrs. Pennington gasps. “Excuse me?”
I grip Kaylie by the shoulder, placing her behind me, feeling the heat of embarrassment creeping into my cheeks. I turn around to correct my little sister. “Kaylie, we don’t use those words.” Glancing back at Mrs. Pennington with a smile, I reassure her. “And what Kaylie means is that the windows at my salon were broken. It was nothing, really. Afreakaccident.”
“The police report we received a copy of said it was vandalism. The police believe a known motorcycle gang appears to have targeted you personally,” Mrs. Pennington says, her tone accompanied by that accusatory brow tells me I could be in sometrouble here. I’m wondering what other information she has that she’s yet to share.
Deciding I need to do some sort of damage control and fast, I reply. “Yes. Well, we don’t know who did it or why, specifically. Everything is speculation at this point. Though the police are working with my security alarm company to figure it out. We’re just grateful it was only property damage. No one was harmed. I assure you. Kaylie and I are safe.”
“I’m not sure I agree with you on that, Miss Greene. The concerned citizen who reported the incident to us seems very concerned for your safety and had a lot to say about the company you’ve been keeping.”
Who the fuck could have reported any of this?
My immediate thought is Mrs. Baker, but she loves Mason and the Kings. I can’t imagine her telling anyone that they would harm either of us. But who, then? I can’t for the life of me think of anyone who would think that of the Kings.
Except you accused them of being the cause of all of this.
But I know they’d never hurt either of us. Even if their enemy is messing with me because they have the wrong idea, I don’t believe they’d stop protecting us. No matter how many times I ask Mason.
“Give me a minute. Let me get Kaylie settled and then we can talk more.” My smile is forced as I scoop Kaylie up in my arms and march us both back into her bedroom, closing the door behind us.
“Kaylie!” I whisper-shout so Mrs. Pennington won’t hear me. I set Kaylie down on her bed. “Where did you hear that? Who told you the windows were smashed to hell? And why in the world would you repeat it in front of Mrs. Pennington of all people?” I grip my hair in frustration.
Kaylie looks at me innocently, gripping Winston tight to her chest. “I heard the boy they call Prospect say it to Masonyesterday when he came to see me at Mrs. Baker’s store before they left.”
“Prospect? We don’t call people prospects. We’re not bikers. Who are you talking about? What was his real name?” I ask, grabbing a sweater and some stretchy pants out of her closet.
She tugs off her pajamas, then I help her put the sweater on over her head. Kaylie pulls the bottom down, smiling at the teddy bear on the front. “He looks like Winston, only without the leather vest.” She lies back so I can put her pants and socks on. “The boy’s name is Colt. I heard Mr. Caleb call him a horse’s butt. He says it’s because the boy’s named after a horsy and acts like a butt.” Kaylie giggles, sitting up and then falling back on her bed. Her laughter is contagious, and before I know it, I’m giggling along with her. Thankfully, this is pretty mild compared to what she could have overheard at the clubhouse. “Mason and Mr. Gabe call him Prospect. Why can’t I?”
“Listen, Kaylie.” I lean over her, caging her in so she’s looking me in the face. “Mr. Caleb can say those things, but pretty little girls shouldn’t talk like that. It’s disrespectful. Understand?” I tickle her thighs, pulling more squeals of laughter from her. “And just because Gabe and Mason say something doesn’t mean you should repeat it either. Those men say a lot of things you shouldn’t. Understand?”
“Yes ma’am. I understand,” she replies, panting.
I set her up and send her to go brush her teeth and bring me her hairbrush. I take the opportunity to run into my room and throw on a pair of jeans and a hoodie from my closet. Rushing into the bathroom, giving my hair a quick brush through, fluffing it with my hands in an attempt to look somewhat decent for the day, and then brush my teeth. By the time I’m finished, Kaylie comes waddling in with her hairbrush and two ponytail holders.
“Can I have piggy tails today?” she asks.
“Why are you walking like that? You’re waddling like a duck. You look silly,” I tease.
