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My heart convulses with longing. Suddenly, I don’t care if he’s sincere or not. Laz wants to defend me. I crave to know what that feels like for the first time in my life.
I lift my fist and show him the red bruise on my knuckles. “But I got him good already.”
Laz takes my hand and kisses the mark. “You got him so good. But let me finish him off for you. Don’t worry, I won’t kill him. I’ll only punch him hard enough to give him a black eye. Flattening high school wasters isn’t much fun.”
“He’s six feet tall, works out, and has an older brother and a mean father.”
He shrugs. “So?”
“They’re all into wrestling.”
Laz’s eyes flash with delight. “You mean it will be a proper fight? Now you’re talking. Name and address. Now.”
I sigh and stare straight ahead through the windshield. Maybe I’ll regret this, but I tell him the address.
“Good girl,” he says, his eyes lighting up as he starts the car.
When we pull up outside Kaleb’s house, he and his brother Michael are playing basketball in the driveway. Both of them have stripped off their T-shirts and a good two inches of designer underwear is showing above their belted jeans. They’re almost as tall as Laz, and Michael clearly works out just as much as he does.
Laz turns to me, his eyebrows lifting. “Jesus. I’m fighting these guys? You couldn’t be bullied by Napoleon Dynamite?”
“No one’s making you,” I tell him, but bitter disappointment creeps into my voice. For a while there, it felt good that someone was going up to bat for me, even if it is my strange, weirdly sexy, and definitely deranged stepdad.
Laz gives me a lazy grin. “You think I can’t take them? Bambi, they’re toast.”
We stare into each other’s eyes and my heart batters against my ribs.
He steps out of the car and calls out, “Which one of you bitches wants to dance?”
I pass a hand over my face. Oh, my God.
Kaleb and Michael exchange glances and a puzzled frown. They seem to get the message that we’re not here to sell Girl Scout cookies, though, as Michael throws the basketball aside and the pair stalk menacingly toward the car.
Laz slams the door and leans down to speak through the window. “Stay there, baby. I’ll be right back.”
He turns around to face the two boys, still smiling.
All of them are sizing each other up, Kaleb and Michael seem unwilling to get too close until they’ve figured out who’s bigger, meaner, and crazier.
Laz has no problem stepping up and getting in their faces. “Let’s play twenty questions. I’ll go first. Who’s the prick who took a photo of Mia?”
Kaleb looks past Laz and sees me. With a smirk for his brother, he says, “Hey, it’s Miss Tiny Tits.” He turns back to Laz. “Who’s asking? You her pimp?”
Laz’s smile vanishes. Without warning, he pulls his fist back and slams it into Kaleb’s jaw.
Kaleb staggers away with a hand to his face and falls down.
I clamp both my hands over my mouth. Oh, fuck. This was a mistake. Kaleb is a boy and Laz is a grown man. This is not a fair—
Michael grabs Laz by the back of his T-shirt, swings him around, and knees him in the nuts. Laz’s eyes bulge and he doubles over with a groan. Then Michael’s knee hits him in the face, and blood pours from Laz’s nose and drips onto the concrete.
I take my hands away from my mouth and wince. Okay, maybe it’s fair.
Kaleb recovers and gets to his feet, ready to lay into Laz, but Laz straightens up, and sweeps his feet out from beneath him. While Kaleb is down again, he throws a punch at Michael. Michael might be big, but he’s slow, and he doesn’t see Laz coming and gets a split lip for his carelessness.
Laz pushes Michael back against the house and points a finger in his face. “Stay out of this. I’m not going to hurt your brother. I want his phone and then I’m leaving.”
He goes back to Kaleb who’s just started to sit up. Laz stands over him with his hand outstretched. There’s blood all over his lips and chin. “Your phone. Then I’m leaving.”
