Legacy (Sociopath Series Book 2)(61)

Exhibit A: we just arrived at Ash’s new prep school, and he’s excited. Look at the tiny pansy: he’s barely up to my knee, and he’s chosen to wear a t-shirt that says My Other Car is Called Lightening McQueen. He should be f*cking terrified—these pipsqueaks are going to eat him alive.

Principal Nadir, who is dressed in a smart skirt suit but still manages to seem like she should be teaching some hippy yoga retreat, appears amid the white walls and green ferns that adorn the reception area. Ash swings out from behind my legs to greet her.

“Mr. Lore.” She holds her hand out to shake mine. “It’s wonderful to see you again. And your…” She glances over my shoulder through the plate glass windows, where a blister of paparazzi threatens to pop. Her hand tightens, just slightly. “Entourage.”

“That wasn’t intentional.” Of course it’s intentional. “My apologies. I hope they won’t disturb the children.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had…interest.” She smiles tightly before bending at the waist. “Good morning, Asher. How are you feeling about starting school?”

“AMAZING!” he shrieks.

She doesn’t even flinch. “Wow. Now that’s the kind of response I like to see. Would you like a tour, or do you want to go straight to your class?”

“Straight to class.” He jerks around to stare up at me with pleading eyes. “Please, Aeron? Please?”

I beam at Principal Nadir. “Whatever makes him feel comfortable.”

“Well, I guess you saw the place during your induction morning, right?”

Ash nods vigorously. “I saw the play tables, and the cafeteria, and the swimming pool where you had sharks you could actually swim with—”

“Inflatable sharks,” she corrects in a gentle voice.

“And the play dough,” he babbles, taking her hand, “and the books—like Belle’s library, like Beauty and the Beast…”

While I follow Ash and the Principal down a brightly-lit corridor, the white walls adorned with the scrawled artwork of fetuses—sorry, kindergarteners—I appraise Nadir’s ass. It’s not bad for a woman in her late thirties, not bad at all; a little more definition around the top of her buttocks and she could achieve the heart-shaped Holy Grail. Nice pins too, though Tuija would weep a river at the sight of those clumpy court shoes. Surely sharp high heels are a must for anyone who works with kids? How else can you legally conceal a weapon…?

“Miss Klonsky is our first grade teacher,” Nadir explains as we trot through a concourse full of book cases. The sun spills through the glass ceiling. “She’s expecting you. You’ll be just in time for morning recess.”

“Ethan says recess is where you go outside and play games with the other kids,” Ash informs me in this sage voice, as if he’s the one giving the tour. Besides the induction, this is his first experience in a school full stop; Ethan takes him to groups and classes, but until now, I didn’t feel comfortable exposing him to the rest of the world. It felt like exposing myself.

“Sounds like fun.” If you like nails on a chalkboard or being strung up by your own balls.

“But also we have to learn things,” he says stoically. Like he’s accepted a grim but inevitable fate.

Ethan has been left at home today so I can do the honors for the paparazzi. And it’s not just for the good press on my own behalf—honestly, sports fans, what do you take me for?—It’s so I can check that the school isn’t too fazed by the whole tabloid interest thing. I need to see if their security is up to scratch. I picked the place for its no-bullshit approach to education rather than its popularity with celebrity parents, handily ensuring that Ash will be superior to many of his classmates on income terms alone. What? The kid needs all the help he can get.

We’re taken into a large, airy classroom that looks out on to a Japanese-style garden. A group of kids sit on a blue carpet while Miss Klonsky—who is a criminal waste of tits and natural red hair, in case you’re wondering—stands beside the interactive whiteboard and talks about different types of clouds.

She glances up as we approach and puts the PowerPoint presentation on pause.

“Ah. You must be Asher! Class, do you remember Asher, who came to visit us last week?”

The children nod and grin in an unsettlingly uniform manner. Still. Must remember that Ash is here to fit in, not trample over everyone. That comes later, when he needs to make money.

Ash suddenly stiffens. He halts just in front of me, a few feet from the carpet, and backs into my legs so he can clutch at my calf. I reach down to pat his sandy blond head, you know, for comfort and shit. He’s a kid. It’s the done thing.

Miss Klonsky tips her chin. “Aww, there’s no need to be shy. You want to come sit down with the other kids? We’re about to have snacks.”

Principal Nadir leans in to murmur, “All organic, obviously.”

“Obviously,” I agree.

They had better not turn him into some metrosexual vegan chef, or they’ll find themselves knee-deep in a child abuse scandal before they can say unsweetened almond f*ckface smoothie.

Ash still clings to my leg.

“Come on, buddy.” I pat him again. “Time to make some new friends, right?”

Nothing. He just squeezes harder.