He was just over six feet tall and weighed around four hundred and forty pounds. He was intimidation ensnared. With his shaved head revealing his tattooed scalp, he was downright scary. Which was why I chose him for this task.
“Kids, man.” He shook his head, looking mildly agitated. “Don’t dig this bullying bullshit.”
A bubble of laughter tried to claw its way up my throat, but I swallowed it down. It was funny that a man who regularly beat the shit out of people didn’t like bullies.
Did Hemi realize he was a bully?
I’d say no, because Hemi wasn’t exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.
When I heard the Hummer open, then shut again, I peered around Hemi to whomever it was he brought with him. I had to look hard at the second guy, but when he got close enough, my mouth parted in surprise.
Oh, no, Hemi, you incompetent fuck.
“Tama.” His name came out breathy and choked.
“Molly,” was all he uttered, rough and short.
My heart started to pound.
He didn’t have to say anything more. I mean, really, what else could he say?
His disinterest said it all.
If Hemi was daunting, Tama was straight up frightening.
“Oh, shit,” Hemi muttered, but what really came out was, “Oh, shut.” He scratched at his head. “I’m thinkin’ that maybe Tama wasn’t the best person to bring with me today, Moll.”
My eyes drifted away from the new addition to Tama’s face. He’d finally done it and got his Ta moko. His nose, chin, and neck were tattooed in a traditional Maori design. I wonder what he’d done to earn it.
Once upon a time, I would’ve had the honor to ask. As it were, I’d lost that right. I’d lost it a while back.
I blinked at Hemi, sarcasm oozing from my statement. “You think?”
Not picking up on that sarcasm, he nodded once before going on a mindless semi-rant. “Well, yeah, because of your guys’ history and all, you know? Like when you—”
I cut him off, speaking far too quickly and almost yelling my response, “I know, Hemi. I was there.”
Tama was a beautiful man. He wore his long black hair traditionally, up high in a top-knot. He once told me a lifetime ago the style he wore it in was called Tiki.
My ethnicity was part Maori, part Aboriginal. As a child, I thought I’d have the best of both worlds, but the rude awakening was neither group wanted me for their own. When I asked why, I was told that as I got older, my loyalties would be skewed. What they hadn’t known was by not accepting me, they—by definition—were against me. And I’d never forget it.
If one person made me want to forget my bruised ego, it was Tama.
Tama, who took me into his home, his bed, and his heart. He vouched for me, fought for me, and I betrayed him.
Everyone had one, that one person who taught them never to trust their heart. I was Tama’s. I heard he was never the same after I left, and that played on me something fierce.
Fuck, you’re an idiot.
I was. No denying it.
A long breath escaped me and I ran a hand down my face before acknowledging the man in front of me. “Tama, you don’t have to stay—”
He cut me off with a barked laugh. When he sobered, he leant down into my face and spoke quietly but viciously, “I’m not here for you.”
Of course he wasn’t.
So why did that statement hurt me as much as it did?
“I know that,” I said, trying not to let my frown show. Checking my watch quickly, I told them both, “We’ve got eight minutes before the bell goes.”
An awkward silence fell over us. Hemi, of course, was completely oblivious to it, playing a game on his phone. Minutes passed before Tama lost his cool indifference.
“From cutthroat to nanny.” Tama smirked, and he meant for it to be as mean as it came across. “How the mighty fall, hey?”
A moment’s pause.
“If you knew that little boy....” My heart wrenched.
Asshole.
I didn’t need to explain myself to him.
My eyes slid down to the ground and I held them there. I wasn’t daring enough to look at Tama, whose eyes were boring holes into me. Those laser beams prepared to blind me with violent, volatile rage. I wasn’t strong enough to fight him or the affect he had on me, so like the coward I was, I pretended to ignore him.
After the longest eight minutes of my life, the bell sounded and we got into position. Tama stood tall, his arms crossed over his chest, and Hemi mirrored him. I stood between the two giants, pulled my sunglasses down from my forehead, and leant my shoulder against Hemi’s massive frame.
We were an alarming sight. It was almost a shame to waste such a picture on a bunch of five-year-olds.
It didn’t escape my notice that A.J. was the first to leave his classroom, head down, face solemn, rushing toward the gate we occupied.
Oh, sweetheart. What has she done to you?
I wouldn’t run to him. I wouldn’t comfort him, not until we were out of view of everyone else. I wasn’t here to play. This was serious shit.
He looked up a second, then did a double-take. He stood there a long moment, long enough for his classmates to gather and pause in their tracks as they openly stared at us. Some kids’ mouths dropped. I noticed Zoe Braemore was one of those kids.
A.J.’s eyes widened comically, and his reaction to these scary-looking dudes surrounding me was priceless.
He smiled.
The little shit.
God, I loved him. He was fearless where it counted. A warrior at heart.
Picking up pace, he started to run toward us, his school bag slapping his back harshly with every stride. When he reached us, I held out my hand to him but was rudely interrupted when Tama snatched up my ward, lifting him high, clutching him to his side. And Tama glared at him.
It wasn’t personal. Tama just hated everyone. Yet even though I knew this, my inner mum had me on the defensive. I knew Tama would never hurt a child, but when it came to this child, I would never give anyone the chance.
A.J. lost his smile and stared back at Tama. A fierce protectiveness lit inside me, even wilder than before, and just as I went to warn Tama to put him down or lose a limb, A.J. reached out with little hands and touched his tiny fingertips to Tama’s tattooed nose. He spoke and my heart ached.
“My daddy has tattoos. Lots of them. Not on his face though. When I’m older, I’m getting them too, just like him.” He pawed Tama’s face without fear, looking closely at the artwork there. “Did it hurt?”
I watched the ice melt in Tama’s eyes. The sternness on his face, however, remained unchanged. “Yeah.”
Hemi stood unmoving. Without looking at A.J., he said loudly, “Hey, A.J., know what I hate?”
A.J. twisted his torso to look back at Hemi. He shook his head. “No.”
“Bullies.” Hemi’s mouth twisted. “Hate me some bullies, bruh.”
Okay then.
It took every bit of strength I had to not laugh.
I’d planned on being discreet, but Hemi didn’t know how to spell the word, let alone depict it.
Zoe’s eyes widened as she tried to walk past. I placed my hand on her little shoulder, stopping her in her tracks. I leant down in her cute little face, brushing a gentle hand over her curled pigtails. I spoke, but it wasn’t to Zoe.
“Is this her, A.J.? Your friend Zoe?”
She looked over at Tama and her eyes wandered over to Hemi before snapping back to me.
Zoe Braemore looked ready to denounce her own name.
“That’s Zoe.” I didn’t look back at my boy, but I could hear the curl of his lip. “But we aren’t friends.”
“Can you help me, Zoe?” The little girl nodded, slowly, wide-eyed. I leant in and looked left to right before coming in close as if the favor I was about to ask was some big secret. “A.J.’s cousins here heard someone might be upsetting him.”
I looked up at Tama. He was scowling a
t the little shit.
“As you can see,” I went on, “when A.J. is upset, his cousins are too.” I lowered my voice. “Can you do me a favor?”
She nodded without question. Good girl.
“I want you to keep an eye on A.J. and tell me if you see anyone picking on him.” I stood tall and peeked over at Hemi before looking back to Zoe. “Hemi over there... he hates bullies. Don’t you, Hemi?”
Hemi turned his head meaningfully and nodded. He kept his gaze on the small child and I watched all the color drain out of Zoe’s face.
My shot had just found its mark.