Further, even if he had to bust his balls, eat shit, walk through hell…

He was going to give it to her.

* * *

Late the next afternoon, Joker had his ass resting on his bike that was parked next to a five-year-old SUV, his arms crossed on his chest, his eyes to the door of the high school.

The last fifteen minutes he was there, he’d gotten looks. He’d gotten questions. He’d given vague answers.

And he’d waited.

The wait was over when he saw Mr. Robinson walk out the door.

Through his shades, Joker took him in. He’d aged, but it was a testament to the man that he didn’t look beaten. He’d been through it to get a kid, but he was also a high school teacher. They got paid dick, put up with a lot of shit, had one of the most important jobs anyone could have, and got little respect, and all he looked like was a man who was leaving work, ready to go home to his wife and dinner.

Joker watched him walk to the SUV, and he wasn’t surprised when Mr. Robinson clocked him almost the minute he walked out the door. He kept Joker in his sights as he walked the ten parking spots to his SUV.

Joker also wasn’t surprised he didn’t let a biker hanging in a teacher’s parking lot slide like the others did.

He stopped and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Good to see you again, Mr. Robinson,” Joker replied.

His head tilted. His eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, do I…?” he started before his face cleared. “Carson?” he asked quietly.

Joker nodded, pushed up from his bike, and walked to the sidewalk.

He extended his hand.

Mr. Robinson took it, his face cracking into a smile.

“Carson,” he repeated, clasping Joker’s hand and pumping it. “Yes. Definitely. Good to see you too.”

They ended on a squeeze before they broke off and Joker asked, “How’re things?”

“Things are things,” Mr. Robinson replied, still smiling, saying they were normal but he didn’t mind. “You?”

“Things are good.”

Mr. Robinson’s gaze grew intent as he studied Joker and said, “Good to hear.”

“Yeah,” Joker muttered, cleared his throat and told him, “Been back a while. Thought about you. Wanted to connect. Wasn’t in that place. Now I am.”

“That’s good to hear, too.” He seemed to struggle with what he wanted to say next, won it and asked, “You took off—”

Joker gave it to him easy. “Got my diploma. Took night classes. Now I’m a licensed mechanic. I’m a brother of Chaos and design and build cars at Ride.”

“What you wanted to do,” Mr. Robinson muttered.

He remembered. All the kids he saw year to year, the man remembered.

“Yeah,” Joker agreed.

“Are you married? Settled? Seeing a girl?”

“Yup. You remember Carissa Teodoro?”

At that, Mr. Robinson smiled huge and remarked, “I see she finally got you to notice her.”