2. Brutal

CHAPTER 2

brUTAL

OLIVIA RODRIGO

I’m juggling paint supplies that aren’t even mine right now, and I swear under my breath as something tries to slip out of my grasp. I hold my breath, waiting for the box to fall to the floor and decorate me and the hallway in electric green paint.

“Renate, what are you doing?”

“Marta! Hurry! It’s dropping!”

An older woman with long grey hair in a tight bun comes rushing over to me. Her billowy duster is flowing behind her like a cape, and like a superhero, she swoops in and saves my ass. I wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight, but my sister called and said her movie star friend was coming and might need to store stuff in my classroom. Normally, she would be here and take my key so I could go home, but she’s at a gig tonight. How convenient.

“I’ve got it!” Marta shouts, taking the paint jars from my hands. Her soft smile reminds me of my abuela and makes me miss her. “Ren, getting the supplies there faster only helps if you don’t drop them all. Let the kids help! You know you can’t get it all in one trip.”

“The kids all fucked off because they said some superhero is here. I’m just trying to help and get this night over with faster, Marta.”

“I heard some gossip about a celebrity sighting. It’s going to be a madhouse if the press finds out.” She reorganizes the box and takes half of what I was carrying. “I know art isn’t your area, but we still appreciate you volunteering to help out.”

It’s not like I had any better plans beyond trying to catch up on my shows and grading papers. Mama isn’t happy about me working late. She has a crush on the man down the street who plays live music at one of the senior centers on Tuesdays. She’ll give me hell for not being able to drive her there, but I called a friend of hers and they’re going to take her. Maybe that will take some of the heat off me.

We drag everything into the auditorium, avoiding the tripping hazard of the tarps they’ve put down to protect the floor. As I find a place for the last box, the back door pops open and we both glance up in time to find James Barton coming in, carrying even more supplies.

He’s cute, but he has two strikes against him. He dated my sister once, and now he’s married. He and my sister stayed friends, though, and a few years ago, my sister ended up setting him up with his now wife. Because of them, I have to listen to my sister go on about her matchmaking skills and how she can help me find a date. I might have to punch her in the face soon if she doesn’t stop. Which would be sad—my sister has a cute face, and I have a mean left hook.

“Hey Ren, haven’t seen you in ages,” James says as he gives me a hug. “I haven’t seen you since…shit, Dani’s show a year ago?”

“Yeah, it’s been a while.” I’ve seen him at my sister’s concerts and a party or two here and there, but we’re not in the same circle of friends. It’s still a little strange to see him all smiles and laughter since he got married. My sister used to call him the brooding artist, but he doesn’t fit that description anymore. “Dani said you were bringing some toys? I have no idea what she’s?—”

The door pops open again and two large boxes with long legs make their way into the room—along with all the staff members that disappeared about ten minutes ago. I’m not sure why, but they’re following the boxes around like they’re made of gold. James jogs over and takes the boxes, leaving me staring at over six feet of delicious, tan, pretty boy. He looks familiar, and when he pushes his sunglasses up to hold his hair back, I forget to breathe. I know exactly who those sparkly blue eyes belong to.

I may have pictured that man on lonely, late nights before, too. With much less clothing on.

“Hey Coop, come help me with this,” James calls out.

Chase fucking Cooper is standing fifteen feet away from me in my school’s auditorium. They must be getting ready to film another action movie, or every department store in Los Angeles is required to sell him shirts a size too small. Beefy is the word I heard one of the younger teachers calling him the other day while they were reading the gossip magazines. It’s appropriate, and I can’t help but imagine what that man would look like on his knees for me.

“Ren, you’re staring,” Marta teases as she walks by.

“I mean, he’s cute for a white boy but?—”

“You’re a little too close to drooling on my floor, Ms. Silva,” says a voice from behind me.

I force my head to turn away, letting the thoughts of running my fingers through that thick, long, caramel hair go up in smoke. Of course, the damn principal, Eric Miley, would catch me staring. I twist my lips into what I hope is a smile.

“Oh, Mr. Miley. I wasn’t aware you would be here tonight.”

Slimy little shit. Three years in a row, I’ve had one of the highest ratings of any teacher in the school. Three years in a row, this small dick asshole has denied me a raise. ‘We don’t have it in the budget’ is his fallback excuse every time. His story would change if I slept with him, but that’s never happening.

“Yes, well, when I heard we had a special guest, well, I thought it would be wise to have a few more male staff members like myself to make sure you ladies behave.”

It’s not laced with misogyny, it’s fucking saturated in it. He’s the poster idiot for why women don’t give out their real names on dating apps and pick being alone in a room with a bear over a man. He doesn’t know that I’ve got him on camera in my computer room after hours on one of those pay for play sites. Fucker was even trying to see if staff members were on the site, myself included. As if we’d be dumb enough to use our real names, anyhow. Someday, I’ll remind him why you do NOT fuck with women in STEAM. Not only are we used to it, but we get our revenge on the worst offenders, like him.

“Ren.” James appears next to me, which keeps me from saying something I’d likely regret. “Hey, about the toys. It’s the bobbleheads Chase brought for the kids. He made sure there were enough for the students that can’t come tonight and Dani told us you’d have a place to lock them up for the night?”

“Yeah, sure. Just uh, have him put the box on the end of the bleachers and I’ll make sure it’s stored in my classroom. My room has locks and security cameras because of the equipment.” I would normally have watched Miley to see if he reacted to the security camera comment, but I’m having trouble concentrating. My eyes keep looking a few feet behind James, where Chase is talking with the kids. He’s distracting. Distractingly pretty.

“Great, will do. Thanks for helping out tonight. Oh, Lex wanted me to invite you over for game night. We got the living room redone, finally, so there’s more room for everyone.” Lex, or Alexis, is Jamie’s wife. She’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, even though life has put her through the wringer more than a few times. I met her at a company party for the guy my sister works for a few years before I met James. “Oh, uh, have you met Chase yet?”

Before I can answer, there’s a loud crash in the back of the auditorium and two guilty looking students stare at a stack of chairs that’s fallen. “Angel Rodriguez and Steven Wilson, what are you doing? Were you climbing the damn chairs like mountain goats again?”

I excuse myself and go take care of the boys, helping them get the chairs pulled out and set up while ensuring they’re not messing around anymore. It doesn’t take us long, but it’s long enough for me to get my mind off the movie star in the room. As we wrap that up, a teacher’s aide comes over and pulls me outside to help with another situation that she can’t seem to describe in a way that makes sense to me.

“It’s…There are… people here. Lots of people!”

“What do you mean, ‘ people’ ? The school is closed.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re parents, Ms. Silva,” Jessica mumbles.

“Where the hell is Miley?” I ask, looking around. Jessica shrugs and looks more worried. “Okay, let’s go figure out what’s going on.”

We turn the corner and I’m blinded by the flashbulbs going off like lightning. People are shouting and trying to open the lock on the gate to the teacher’s parking area. Why would anyone want to take pictures of a couple of teachers through a fence?

“Miss! Miss! Can you let us in? We want to get some pictures of Chase!”

“Come on, I’ll give you two hundred cash right now. Just open the gate.”

“I’ll give you five hundred!”

I take a slow, deep breath to center myself before I go off on these fucking lunatics. If they think yelling at me like that is going to have any effect at all, it only shows they haven’t met many teachers.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” I yell back. “This is an after school assembly and there are no teachers here named Chase.”

“Come on,” one of them shouts back. “We got pictures from someone inside! We know he’s there! Five hundred cash dollars!”

“Who the fuck says ‘cash dollars’?” I ask Jessica, and she chuckles behind her hand. This is why she came to find me and not one of the other teachers. I’m nice when I need to be, and a complete hard ass when it calls for it. “Jess, go find the resource guy. He’s supposed to be here for the event. Tell him to get his ass back out here and do his damn job, but in nicer words.”

I’m not calling the cops yet because this is Los Angeles, doing that could lead to someone innocent getting arrested or shot. But if we’re paying a resource officer for the campus, his ass better get to work. I wait for Jess to get around the corner and yell out to the press, “Get away from the gate. This is a goddamn school and there are laws against you idiots being allowed on campus. Not one of you is getting in, so if this guy you’re looking for is here somewhere, you’ll have to wait till he leaves.”

Grumbles and more yells come from the twenty or so of them at the gate, ?which makes me think others are sneaking around trying to find a way in or looking for windows. “We’ve called the police. They’ll escort your sorry asses off the property as soon as they get here.”

“Damnit, Renate!” The distinct huffing and puffing of the school cop jogging up sounds from behind me—clearly, I’ve disturbed his evening. “You can’t be yelling at people like that!”

“Oh, put a lid on it and get these people the hell away from here. I don’t care what Miley told you, they can’t be on campus and you can’t just ignore them to get publicity for the school.”

I turn to Jessica, who’s only now catching back up to us. “We need to cover the windows on the doors to the gym in case someone gets in. I swear, these people are vultures.” I rub my temples, feeling a migraine coming on. This was supposed to be a nice, easy, after school art class and now, it’s a zoo.

This is what I get for trying to help. Fuck.

* * *

When asked how Chase’s appearance could have leaked to the paparazzi, Miley invents one excuse after another.. He ends up being the coward I know he is, blaming it on a parent. I would bet good cash dollars he’s the one who leaked the pictures. On top of that, Miley’s been up his butt all night. I’ve had to send teaching aides to Mr. Cooper’s rescue on more than one occasion just to give him a break. Miley thinks that they’ll be best buddies, and Mr. Cooper will visit here for more talks and boost the school ratings or something. Idiot.

“You know, I read in a magazine he’s single again,” Marta whispers and nudges my arm as we pack the supplies up. There’s a handful of parents still hanging around James, trying to get their kids into the program and a few in other little groups discussing whatever they need to discuss at nine thirty at night.

I glance up to where Marta is gesturing and see Cooper in the last row of the bleachers with four or five kids who are still waiting for their parents to come pick them up. It never fails that there ends up being a few stragglers, and even though it means we have to stay later, I understand the situation. One mother is a nurse and her ex is a complete dick about picking their kid up when she needs him to. Another of the kids in the bleachers is living with his grandmother. The interesting part is Chase doesn’t mind at all. He’s laughing and joking with the kids, showing them how he did a few stunts, and acting like a normal human being. He’s been up there all night, watching signing the toys as he stays out of James’s spotlight. It’s kind of sweet.

“You should go talk to him,” Marta presses again.

“Mrs. Rodriguez,” I huff with a smile, so she knows I’m teasing. “What in the world would a man like him be doing with a woman like me?”

“I can sure think of a few things!” She giggles menacingly.

“Marta! You’ve been spending too much time with the older kids and your romance novels.”

“I got those books from you, Renate. What can I say? I’m old, not dead. And if I were younger?—”

“And not married?” I tease back. “And be real. Why would I want to deal with that crazy lifestyle? That man lives in a big house with a pool and people who cook and clean for him. I’ve got a two-bedroom house that I share with my sister and my mother and we can’t even afford for the neighbor kid to mow our lawn.”

“Ren, it’s California. That strip of land you call a lawn is dead already, or will be in a few months.”

We both cackle, because she’s right. We finish packing up so we can call it a night as soon as we can. Tomorrow morning is going to come far too soon, and at this rate, we’ll be lucky if we’re out of here by eleven.

I hoist up one of the bulkier boxes of paints, trying to make sure Marta doesn’t lift anything too heavy, even though I shouldn’t either. I head down the dark, empty hall toward the art department. No matter how long I’ve been teaching, there’s something just a little creepy about an empty, dark school at night. My sister makes me watch too many of those horror movies that end up with the killer stalking someone down a school hallway. I remind myself that those aren’t actual schools, and even if they were, it’s always in some rural area where no one is around to hear them. If you set off the alarm in this school, you’d have an entire neighborhood here in minutes to see what’s happening—not to help you, but because they’re all nosey.

I heave the supplies onto a table in the art room, and that’s when I notice a familiar box sitting in the back of the room. I walk to the back and lift the lid to see a dozen or more Chase Coopers staring back at me. I’m sure I can guess who stashed these here, and that he’s planning on scooping them back up after we all leave so he can them for a fast buck. Unfortunately, we didn’t install any cameras down this hall since there’s no expensive and irreplaceable equipment, so he would have gotten away with it if I hadn’t seen the box. With a heavy sigh and several curse words, I grab the bobbleheads and head out the door.

I’m going to regret all of this lifting in the morning, assuming I can sleep.

I fish my keys out of my pocket as I walk back to my classroom. As I turn the corner, there’s a giant figure in the dark, startling me half to death. I can’t stop and end up running straight into him. I drop the box, my keys, and damn near pee myself from the fright. I also scream.

“I’m sorry! Shit! I’m so sorry!”

My head snaps up to meet the eyes of my would-be killer, and I’m ready to grab my keys and jab them into his neck. Instead of a spree-murdering psychopath, I’m eye to eye with the prettiest blue I’ve ever seen before—the ones I’ve been seeing all night from a distance. They’re not like a normal sky blue, but darker, with a pretty rim around them that almost looks green in this light.

I’ve got to stop watching Dani’s horror movies.

I realize I’m staring at him eye to eye because he hunched over, trying to pick up the toys and muttering apologies as he does. He looks back at me, a toy in each hand, and I swear he’s peering into my soul. He wets his lips and my entire body tingles. This man is dangerous in all the right ways.

“I, uhm, hi. I’m, uhm, I’m…”

“Chase Cooper.”

“Yeah. I mean, yeah, of course you know that. Duh. It’s, I was…”

“I’m Renate. Nice to meet you.”

“Ren…Rena—?” He gets hung up on the unusual pronunciation.

It’s rare people meet a Hispanic woman with a Dutch-Norwegian name that isn’t even pronounced correctly because of my father’s sense of humor.

“Like Reh and naught. Renate. You can call me Ren. Most people do.”

“That’s, it’s pretty. I… shit, I didn’t hurt you, did I? I mean, it’s nice to uhm—” He shakes his head and mumbles. For a movie star, he’s about as articulate as a two-year-old. “Shit.”

Closing his eyes, he runs his large hand through that caramel hair, nice and slow, tucking it behind his ear where it refuses to stay. He’s cute when he rambles, and he’s got this dimple on his chin and I have to resist reaching out and touching it.

“I’m really sorry, Renate. I was looking for the bathroom and—” He looks around us. “Yeah, I’m totally lost.”

“You’re close. You’re one hallway too far.” I direct him before I load the toys back into the box. He wants to help, but I shoo him away. If any of those paparazzi got in here, this is the last thing they need to find. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it.”

“It’s my mess,” he replies in that velvety smooth voice that I don’t want to stop listening to. It’s hypnotizing. “The least I can do is stay and help.”

We get the last of the toys in the box and he hands me my keys as he stands to his full height. I swallow hard as the expression I would climb that man like a tree finally makes sense to me. He’s a giant. Of course, I’m just over five foot two—in heels. As I reach out for the keys, our hands brush together and he holds his there just a little longer than most people would. I’ve frozen, unable to pull my hand away from his touch.

“Here, I’ll carry the box.”

“It’s okay, Mr. Cooper. I’ve got it now. Thank you, though.” I’m not sure how I’m keeping my cool right now with this hunk in my hallway. “You were headed to the restroom anyhow.”

“Right, yeah. It was nice meeting you, Renate. I uhm, I’m sorry, again, that I ran into you like that.”

He’s walking away—but not turning around—just walking backward as if he doesn’t want to stop looking at me. It would be kind of cute, but… “Mr. Cooper?”

“Call me Chase. Or Coop. Or, you know?—”

“You’re about to walk into a wall.”

He spins around and sure enough, he’s face to face with one of the bulletin boards. He turns around again. “Thanks. Again. I’ll, you know, be more… careful.”

I watch him disappear down the hallway before I unlock the door to my classroom. As I put the box away in one of the storage closets, I lean against the wall and laugh, giving my heart a moment to slow the heck down.

“Why is it always the pretty ones who are dumb as rocks?” I laugh to myself as I lock up.