Page 9 of A Billionaire Rebel

It hadn’t gotten any cooler since the last time I’d been outside, and I grimaced as I jogged to the bus stop. Normally, I didn’t mind carrying Kevin the two blocks from my parents’ house to the bus stop, but this heat was already brutal. Maybe one of my parents would drive us back to the apartment, but I didn’t like asking them to do it.

Maybe Jamie wasn’t the only one who had issues with what our parents thought of us.

I was practically soaked in sweat by the time I knocked on the door, and swallowing my pride was looking more appealing every minute. The curtain covering the slim window moved, and I caught a glimpse of warm brown eyes right before the door flew open, and my baby sister flew at me.

I hugged her, walking us inside with her still in my arms. When she finally let me go, she held up her hand in her favorite sign, the easily recognizable one-handed “I love you.” I did it back, even though there wasn’t anything wrong with her hearing.

Jetta had been diagnosed as autistic when she was four, and now, at fifteen, she still didn’t speak, but she did communicate with us using simple sign language and pictures. We didn’t have long conversations, but what we did say was always meaningful.

“How was school today?” I asked, signing the words as I spoke.

Good. She grabbed my hand and pulled me into the kitchen where I found Mom at the stove while Kevin and my grandmother sat at the nearby table. I took a few seconds to appreciate the scene, noting how little had changed since my own childhood.

Then Nana noticed me. “Your hair looks like you rubbed a balloon on your head.”

“Um…thanks?” I went over to where Mom was stirring something that smelled great. I gave her a kiss on the cheek and then did the same for Nana. Kevin got a kiss on the head, but he was too engrossed in the game he was playing to acknowledge me.

“He slept for about an hour after lunch,” Mom said, glancing over at me with eyes nearly identical to Jetta’s. “Then had a banana for a snack after he woke up.”

“Banana and peanut butter,” Nana corrected.

“Yes, Mama,” Mom said, her eyes twinkling.

I loved Nana, but if I’d had to live with her, I would’ve gone nuts. Whatever she thought, she said, and it had nothing to do with age. She’d been that way as long as I could remember.

“Where’s Dad?” I plucked a grape from the bowl and popped it into my mouth.

“School, of course,” Nana said, slapping my hand when I reached for a second grape. “You’ll ruin your dinner.”

“School already?” I waited until Nana looked away and then snagged another piece of fruit.

“School starts on the twenty-sixth,” Mom said. “Today’s the first of his in-service days.”

Dad had been teaching high school math in the Houston public school system since he’d graduated from college, and he was one of their best teachers. I wasn’t just saying that because he was my father either. He routinely had students crediting him for why they’d been able to graduate, and more than one had gone into teaching due to his inspiration.

He was a great father too. The fact that I’d never managed to get more than a B in any of my math classes could have been a point of contention, but he’d simply encouraged me to do my best the way he did with all of us girls and reminded me that we all had our own talents.

Jetta patted my arm and held up a picture of a cat.

“You’re getting a cat?”

She frowned and hugged the picture.

Ah. “Youwanta cat.” I glanced at Mom, who shook her head. “And Mom said no.”

“Persephone has never liked cats.” Nana put the last puzzle piece into place and leaned back in her chair. “We had one when she was a girl, and she used to torment it mercilessly.”

“I seem to remember it scratching me every time it got a chance,” Mom countered.

I smiled as the bickering continued, the familiar sound comforting. The only things missing were Jamie and Dad. We’d gone through a year or so of strained family gatherings around Jamie’s pregnancy and the first couple months of Kevin’s life, but the more time that passed, the more things found a new normal. It might not have been the future Mom and Dad had pictured when we were kids, but it was still a good life.

Six

Damon

I’d workedmy ass off this week but only had two songs to show for it, and I was only satisfied with one of them. Not thrilled, but satisfied. I knew that not every song an artist put out was going to be amazing, but that didn’t mean I didn’t want to create the best possible music every single time.

Which was why I’d been here at the venue since eight o’clock, trying to see if being on stage would prompt something, help me find what was missing in the second song. We weren’t going to sing either of the new ones tonight, but I liked to sometimes do a sound check with something new just to get the others’ thoughts on it. Sound checks often felt pointless, at least to me, and if I could combine brainstorming with concert preparation, it made me feel like we were using our time wisely.

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