Page 46 of The Mouse and the Maestro

Chapter 21

Blue had three hours to show Jane the iconic Philadelphia and to make it as interesting as she had made New York for him. His brain went into panic mode, unable to think of anything, so he texted Tad and asked for advice.

If you could only showan outsider one Philly thing what would it be?

Tad’s answerhad determined their current destination.

Jane gasped when she realized where they were, and he knew he’d made the right choice. They climbed up the steps, all seventy two of them. Blue stopped at the top and turned to face the city, but Jane kept going, reaching for the door.

“Oh, no, it’s closed,” she said, her face peering in the window.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“The Art Museum. It’s closed,” she said.

“That’s why you think we’re here?” he asked.

“It’s not?” she countered.

“No.Rocky.The steps.” He pointed to the stairs, all leg-numbing seventy two of them.

She cocked her head at him. “Huh?”

“These stairs are the most famous landmark in Philly,” he said.

“More famous than the Liberty Bell? Independence Hall? Betsy Ross? Literally anything connected to Ben Franklin?” she said.

“Oh,” he drawled. “Right, you’re smart. I forgot. But, still,Rocky? I mean, come on, Jane,Rocky.”

She raised her hand and pointed to the top of her head. “Girl who grew up in Africa and has no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You seriously don’t know whatRockyis?” he asked, aghast.

“No, but I’ve ridden an elephant and watched a baby giraffe be born,” she offered helpfully.

“Your life is completely lacking,” he said. “Okay, next thing then.” He pressed his fingers to his temple, trying to think of something smart to impress her. He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. Come on.” He took her hand and dragged her back down the seventy two steps.

“Wait,” Jane called, leaning against the wall to massage her calves. “Charley horse. One hundred forty four steps are a lot.”

“Lots of people run them,” he told her.

“Why?” she asked.

“We really have to have a movie night at some point. Do you even know who Sylvester Stallone is?” Blue asked.

“Rambo.”

He blinked at her. “How do you knowRambobut notRocky?”

“Rambois my dad’s favorite movie,” she said.

“I didn’t knowRambowas anyone’s favorite movie,” Blue said. He was hoping she would say more about her dad, whomhe had deduced was likely a criminal, given her strange reaction every time he was mentioned, but she shrugged, smiling. “Come on, Secret Squirrel,” he said, leading the way back to the car.

Traffic was its usual nightmare. They would barely have enough time to see the thing he was trying to show her. They were almost there, but as they drew nearer, the street was closed off with multiple police cars blocking the entrance. Blue turned on the radio and heard there had been a drive by shooting. He sighed.

“That’s Poe’s house,” he pointed. “You can almost make out a glimpse of it, if you squint.”

Jane pressed her face to the window, squinting. “That’s cool.”

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