Surviving the Mercers

Chapter 10 of RoS in Justice's POV

“Ciao,” I said in greeting.

I didn’t like using Italian with Callahan, simply because he was fond of talking in his native tongue and I hated to indulge him anything.  But since my ass was in mega trouble, I figured it couldn’t hurt to butter him up some.  If I was lucky, he’d go easy on me the next time I saw him.

Unfortunately, Callahan wasn’t biting.  “Giustizio,” he said, chastisement clear in his tone.  “I was under the impression that you were to be at my house… eight minutes ago.”

Unable to help myself, I responded with, “Actually I was at your house.  Didn’t Reed see me when he stuck his head out the window?”

“I’m not in the mood for games, Giustizio,” Callahan snapped.

“And I’m not in the mood for you to call me that,” I spat back, suddenly understanding all too well Ray’s vitriol at being called Raymond.  “It’s Montoya, plain and simple.”

“I’ll call you whatever I like, boy,” Callahan said coolly.  “I own you.  Now I don’t know where you think you’re going, but if you’re not back here in five minutes, I will be extremely unhappy.”

I had to clench my teeth in an effort not to react to his comment.  Instead, after a deep breath for patience, I simply responded with,  “Something important came up.  I’ll stop by when I’m done.”

On the other end, Callahan tsked.  “I hope you know that that means.”

I grunted an affirmative.

“Very well, have it your way.  Make sure you don’t have plans for tonight.  I have a feeling you’ll be occupied for most of it.”

“At least you have something to look forward to now,” I said, voice dripping sarcasm, and hung up on him.

No doubt that too, would earn me even more punishment.  Nobody hung up on Callahan Cordero anymore than they hung up on the CBK head, Cebrian Lupe.  Christ, if Ioney didn’t kill me first, there was a good chance my adoptive father would later tonight.

I got to the high school in time to hear the end of day bell, and parked around the corner from the student lot.  Heaving a sigh of complete and utter weariness, I got out, locked up, and legged it back the way I’d come.

I felt a little out of place at the high school, being that I didn’t have any brothers or sisters who attended the place, and that I hadn’t actually graduated from one myself.  Halfway through freshman year at Frederickson High was as far as I’d gotten before being expelled for shattering a senior’s kneecap.  

The school had been so terrified of me, they’d blacklisted me from just about every high school in Chicago.  Not that I cared either way.  I’d been at school to pass the time, not out of any real desire to further my education.

I caught sight of Ray and Mycha coming out of the main entrance and, putting my thumb and forefinger to my mouth, let loose with a loud whistle.  Ray’s head immediately snapped my way, and I jerked my chin towards the parking lot, where I could see Teresa Mercer’s beat up old station wagon.

“I thought you were joking when you said you were on your way here,” Ray said as soon as he saw me.

I gave him an unimpressed stare, and replied deadpan,  “Yes, because I am such the practical joker.  Got you.  Har, har.”

Mycha didn’t know whether to be amused or remain awestruck at me standing in front of him.  He was about the same height as Ioney, but given Kalen had hit somewhere near six foot, I was betting Mycha would have a couple of healthy growth spurts before he got out of puberty.