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Home > Bayonet Scars #3 - Rev(9)

Bayonet Scars #3 - Rev(9)
Author: J.C. Emery

“I’m here for Cheyenne Grady,” I say.

It’s no use, but I try to keep my bad fucking mood from getting even worse. Shit is not good anywhere these days, and now I have to deal with straightening Ms. Mercer’s stupid ass out. Fucking perfect. For some reason, this bitch has it out for my kid, and I’ve had enough of it. I got no doubt that Chey earned herself some trouble, but why now? I bet Mercer’s got an ax to grind with the club—just like her cock-sucking boss—and she’s taking it out on Chey. While most people in Fort Bragg are cool with the club, there are a few who turn their noses up at us, and apparently this glorified paper pusher is one of them. We’re too loud, too wild, and too dangerous.

If only they knew.

“Yes, Mr. Grady,” the woman behind the desk says in a faux polite tone. The name plate on her desk reads MARGOT FLORES. She hits the ancient buzzer beside her computer and announces to the principal, Mr. Beck that I have arrived. It’s but a few moments before I see him striding down the hallway with a scowl on his face.

“Mr. Grady,” he says, “Thank you for coming down so quickly.”

He leads me down the hall to his office—a place I’ve never been before. Until recently, Chey’s never had trouble at school. The only trouble I’ve heard about has been from this Mercer bitch, which leads me to believe she’s full of shit. My daughter is a good kid—she just occasionally has to deal with a rough patch, almost always after she sees her mom.

“Yeah,” I say and follow him into his office. It’s small, and every bit of furniture appears to be an aged wood and olive mix. In one corner, near a bookcase filled with awards, is Chey. Her arms are folded over her chest, and her eyes are wet with freshly fallen tears. In the other corner is Ms. Mercer. Her light brown hair is falling in her face as her head is tilted toward her lap. Mr. Beck gestures to a chair between the two, and I sit as he rounds his desk and takes his place.

“We had an incident during a counseling session that needs your attention,” he says.

“What happened?” I ask, looking at Chey. She pulls her lip in and diverts her eyes, a sure sign that she did something she knows damn well she shouldn’t have. When she doesn’t meet my eyes, I wrap my hands around the wooden arm rests of my chair and take a deep breath. “Cheyenne, look at me.”

Still, her eyes don’t lift to mine.

“During a counseling session where Ms. Mercer expressed concern for Cheyenne, your daughter made a comment which was inappropriate and requires immediate attention. She used a curse word to describe Ms. Mercer,” Mr. Beck says.

“You curse at this lady?” I ask Chey, who is determined to be unresponsive. When I finally tire of staring at the top of her fucking head, I turn my attention the other direction toward the bitch who’s started all this shit. I don’t know what went down, and to be honest, I only kind of care. Mercer’s had it out for Chey for months now, and I wouldn’t put it past her to push my kid’s buttons to see what happens.

“What did she say?” I ask Ms. Mercer, who is now looking me in the eye. For such a bitch, she’s pretty fuckable. Her complexion is nice and smooth, and she has light brown eyes that are complemented by her light brown hair and pale skin.

“Cheyenne called me the B word,” she says. I scoff before I can stop myself and earn a disapproving look from both Ms. Mercer and Mr. Beck.

“She called you a bitch,” I say. Ms. Mercer’s lips form a straight line, and her eyes narrow. Yeah, she’s uptight all right. Uptight as all fucking hell. I wonder when the last time she got laid was. I have half a mind to bend her over the desk and show her how to let loose. It’d be a fucking public service. I bet she’s so tightly wound that she’s never even jaywalked before.

“Yes,” she says in a clipped tone.

“Why?” I ask.

“Excuse me?” she says, like she suddenly can’t speak English. I raise my eyebrows and gesture to Chey.

“Why,” I repeat.

“Mr. Grady,” she says then shuts her mouth quickly. From my other side, I hear a sharp intake of breath. I look to Chey, who is glaring across the room.

“Ms. Mercer thinks I’m being abused or neglected,” Chey says with serious attitude. She started this shit a few years back, and it’s only gotten worse with time.

“Cheyenne,” Ms. Mercer pleads in a soft voice. “I’ve apologized. It’s my job to make sure you’re safe.”

“Holly,” Chey says with more venom in her tone than a fucking rattlesnake has in its entire body. “I thought you were cool. I thought we were friends!”

“I am cool, but I will not ignore a situation that concerns me,” Ms. Mercer says. There’s obviously more going on between these two than I’m aware of.

“That why you called her a bitch?” I ask Chey, who nods. Her mood’s picking up now that she thinks she has something on Ms. Mercer. She doesn’t, because the second I get her ass home, she’s grounded. But I’ll let the little princess think she’s snowed me for now. I just don’t want to give Mercer the satisfaction of knowing I don’t exactly have everything under control.

“Okay then, we’re gonna go,” I say to Mr. Beck.

“No, you cannot,” Ms. Mercer says as she stands in objection. “You daughter cannot run around speaking like that to adults, especially adults at her school, and expect no consequence. This is what I was concerned about.”

“Ain’t nobody gonna tell me how to parent my kid,” I say loudly and stand from my seat. Ms. Mercer takes a step closer to me and places her hands on her hips.

“You are a very troubled man,” she spits out with such anger I think she might melt the fucking floor around us. “Time and time again, you refuse to accept responsibility for your daughter’s poor behavior. Further, you have done her no favors by demonstrating to her that she can ignore consequences for mistreating others and that she is without fault. Cheyenne is an awesome kid, but she needs discipline. I’m not telling you how to parent. I am telling you that I won’t stand to be treated so poorly by a student or her parent.”

“Is that so?” I ask, rage boiling in my veins and my heart. I know I’ve been fucking up and it just pisses me off that this stupid bitch has the nerve to call me on it.

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