Page 4 of Steel

“Tonight?” Debbie asked, blinking furiously.

“Tonight. We can do this. We’re going to select real men from a real manly profession. The kind women will drool over.” I glanced at Brenda, her dubious facial expression depicting what I was feeling perfectly.

At first, no one said a word, my entire team staring at me with a deer in the headlights look.

Then Sheila raised her hand. “How are we going to go about finding the perfect hot men in a few hours?”

“A very good question,” I mused. “We scour the internet like everyone else does. Instagram. Facebook. TikTok. Check out what’s going viral. Everything from cowboys to hockey players. Sorry, guys, but you’ll need to think like a woman. What kind of man would she enjoy seeing shirtless?”

Mark puffed up his chest and the women laughed. “You know how to destroy a guy.”

“Come on, guys. Let’s do this. I just hope you don’t have any plans for after work. We’re in for the long haul.”

They looked at each other, but I could tell the creative juices were already flowing. I’d left out the part about a change in personnel on purpose. They didn’t need that kind of pressure. As everyone headed to their computers, my phone rang. There were very few people who even knew my personal phone number, one of whom I’d threatened the last time he’d called. I had doubts he’d risk my rage after the last conversation we’d had in person.

When the school’s number popped up, my stomach lurched. “Violet Livingston.”

“Ms. Livingston, this is Principal Walker. I’m sorry to be contacting you at work, but I’m afraid you’re going to need to come down to school and get Damon.”

“Why? What has he done this time?” This time. I hated using the phrase, but as of late, every time someone called about my son, it was always bad news.

“He set fire to the girl’s bathroom.”

Exhaling, I closed my eyes. My day had just gone from shitty to horrible.

“I’ll be right there.”

CHAPTER 2

Violet

“Are you going to at least say you’re sorry?” I glanced into the rearview mirror at my child fidgeting in his booster seat.

Damon folded his arms, huffing and turning his head away from me. He had yet to turn eight years old and he was more than just a handful. He was ceremoniously trying to drive me absolutely nuts. If I’d bothered to look up sullen in the dictionary, his picture would be the posterchild.

“When can I get out of this seat?” His question was flat, but I sensed he was full of piss and vinegar.

“You just tried to burn down your elementary school and all you can say is about the booster seat you’re required by law to be strapped into, so you’ll stay safe?”

“Only babies sit in booster seats. I am obviously not a baby.”

Right now, that was debatable. I sucked in my breath, which caused a wheezing sound while both hands twisted around thesteering wheel to the point my fingers were hurting. That’s what my beautiful son, my incredible little boy did to me on a daily basis.

“Plus, I didn’t try and burn down the school, Mom. If I had then there’d be nothing left but ashes.”

Oh. My. God. The kid was boasting about his arson abilities. He wasn’t a bad child, not really. He was far too intelligent for his own good, kids unable to keep up with him, which had turned him into a little tyrant. “You know what? I remember when you were so adorable as a child. You used to laugh all the time, sleep through every night. We would sit and watch movies together and eat popcorn. Do you remember those days?” When he didn’t say anything, I snapped my gaze to the rearview mirror.

I knew it. The kid was rolling his eyes. Where had I gone so wrong? He’d been a very happy child, always laughing. Always eager, including when going to school. Not any longer. I’d thought he was being bullied but had soon learned he was the bully. Then things had escalated.

Now, this.

With school letting out in the summer in just a few days, he wouldn’t be held back. That was the craziest thing of all. My child was brilliant, his IQ tested not once but three times and he’d blown past genius level. He didn’t study because he didn’t need to.

His school psychologist had been the first to suggest upper-level classes would help ease his boredom. Instead of second grade, he was in the fifth on his way to by passing the sixth and heading straight into junior high.

After jumping grades, things had gotten worse, the fire starter in him born. While I’d exaggerated about burning down the school, the fire had been large enough the fire department had been called. It was only a matter of time before his pranks escalated.

I was currently spending every dime I had on a regular psychologist, but as per usual, my amazing son was devious and had the man believing he was completely normal. I snorted when I made the turn on the street leading to the babysitter’s house. God, I adored him with every ounce of my being, but I could throttle him daily.