“Hardly!”
“Declan said you were?—”
I quickly spin the laptop around. “We’re here with friends, Uncle Conor.”
“Oh. Hi, guys,” Conor greets, sounding totally confused. “What’s going on, Vicky? Are you all right? You look okay. But don’t lie to me. I have ways of making you talk?—”
Before he can totally destroy our street cred, I butt in, “We need your help taking down a bully.”
Conor sits forward in his seat, ignoring the hissing cat on his knee. “Tell me more.”
Conor hates bullies, so I know we’re speaking his favorite language.
“Have you heard of a douchenozzle called Derek Dyers?”
“I know team scouts are interested in him?—”
“Ew!” I interrupt. “He doesn’t deserve to play in the NHL!”
“He’s the bully?”
Shay’s quick to nod. “He’s an absolute ASSHOLE, Uncle Conor. I just sent you something.”
Our uncle, still frowning, studies his phone and the picture Shay shared with him. “That’s harsh. Can I just say I hate kids? And as a parent, that’s amplified because kids are mini humans and humans goddamn suck.”
“We feel you, Uncle C,” I soothe.
“That’s the tip of the iceberg. He’s a rapist,” Shay seethes.
Conor’s head jerks back so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t give himself whiplash. “What?!”
“Oakwood’s administration covered it up,” Shay inserts, his eyes widening at Conor’s reaction.
“Are you joking?”
“No. We wouldn’t mess around with something like this, Uncle Conor. He’s an abusive bully who bribed his way out of being expelled.”
When Denver brushes my shoulder, I step aside. “This is Denver Parilla, Uncle Conor.”
“Excuse me, sir. I don’t know who you are, but Victoria and Shay seem damn certain you can ruin that asshole’s life?—”
“I live to take down bullies.” He cracks his knuckles and a half-smile quirks his lips even as it begins to fade once he studies the picture on his cell again.
Denver grimaces. “I overheard what you said and I just wanted you to know that he’s taking drugs too. He snorts coke before games.”
“I appreciate the intel, Denver.”
“I’m assembling a plan of action. So far, it’s twenty-two parts deep. Any help you can provide to make the plan happen, I’d appreciate.”
Conor’s brows lift. “Twenty-two?”
“To start with, yes. Nothing concrete, you understand. Not yet. I jotted everything down in the heat of the moment. But I have more ideas that I need to percolate.” Her shoulders sag a touch. “I’m still in a reactive frame of mind.
“Anyway, I better leave you to it.”
“I value your candor, Denver.”
“And I thank you for your help. Whatever you can do, it’s appreciated.” She nudges my arm. “We have to go. Zach has practice.”
