Page 43 of Vandal Unbound

It takes me about fifteen minutes to reach Elsie, and it’s when I see her excited face that I realize the rookie mistake I just made.

I came on my bike, and it stands out among the minivans. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me to bring my truck.

Elsie jumps up and down and claps her hands and yells and points to everyone around her, gesturing for them to look at my bike.

I’ve had women on the back of my bike before. No one special. When we have a cookout, some of the single guys will give rides to the club girls. But I’ve never had an excited toddler—wait, are five-year-olds still called toddlers?—on my bike before.

Especially not one bouncing and squealing like Elsie is.

I park the bike and climb off, aware of the stares of some of the other parents doing pickup, and at least two of the camp workers.

“Vandal,” Elsie shouts running to me. “You came for me.”

I can’t help but grin at the kid’s enthusiastic greeting as she breaks free of the people she was standing with and charges at me. I bend down and scoop her up, tossing her a little into the air while she deep-down belly laughs. Blonde curls bounce when I catch her.

“Hey, Elsie. You good to go?”

“Erm. Are you…Vandal?” the woman asking fidgets nervously as she asks.

“I am,” I say as Elsie shouts, “He is.”

“Okay. Well, Daisy said you’d be getting her.”

She looks over at the bike.

Heck, I do too.

“Can my friends come see your bike?” Elsie asks. But before I answer, Elsie starts calling out names. “Hayden. Connie. Marco. Come look at Vandal’s bike.”

“Elsie,” I say quietly, taking in the snooty look on some of the parents’ faces. I can only imagine what they’re seeing. The ugly scars, the shitty hair, the leather cut, the rings, the bike. In their heads I’m sure they’re frantically trying to come up with plausible excuses as to why their kids can’t come over to see it. “Not sure their folks appreciate me as much as you do.”

She puts her hand on my cheek. “Then let’s not show them your bike.”

“Come on, Els. Let’s get you home.” I put her down, and she reaches for my hand, before skipping alongside me.

“Am I going to ride on your bike?” she asks.

“Yeah. And I think your mom might kill me when she finds out.”

Elsie laughs gleefully. “This is the best day ever.”

“Yeah, well, remember that when your mom is screaming at me for being irresponsible. How good are you at holding on?”

“I’m the bestest holder-on.”

I glance down at her utterly beaming face. “Yeah. I just bet you are. Shit, I didn’t even think to bring you a helmet.”

A quick look inside the pannier provides a bungee cord which gives me an idea. I can strap her to me. And I’ve already decided that I’m gonna take back roads I can ride really slow to get back. Except for what happened the night I was…well, outside of that, I haven’t ever come off my bike.

One of the moms nearby pops the trunk of her car, then offers me a cycling helmet from the back. “It’s not much protection, but it might help.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Doing her mom a favor, but in the rush to get here, didn’t think about the getting her home part.”

“Vandal is the best helper,” Elsie says. “Some men were being really noisy and he?—”

“Anyway,” I say, cutting Elsie off and putting my hand over her mouth. “Thank you. And we need to get going.”

Elsie wiggles against me, laughing, and the worry eases.