Page 75 of The Big Easy & Other Lies
“Rhett X, you’re going to have to work a lot harder than that if you’re trying to get me to break up with you.”
He smiled and his shoulders sagged slightly. I didn’t realize he’d been so tense.
“I have a million questions, so maybe you better tell me the rest of the story before I ask all of them.”
He drew a deep breath. “I ended up here because they thought it would be harder to track me down. And the FBI says these guys don’t have a syndicate in New Orleans.”
“Um, syndicate? That’s an organized crime word.”
Looking disgusted, he nodded. “Yeah. One of the many reasons my dad and I don’t get along.”
“What about the rest of your family? Are they okay?”
“My sister is doing study abroad. If it’s not sorted out by the end of the term, she’ll either do another semester abroad or transfer universities, I think.”
“They might resolve it that quickly?” My stomach dropped, and I pushed back my chair to give me room to breathe. “Does that mean you’ll go back home when they do?”
“No!” He reached over and hauled me back, rolling the swivel chair until our knees touched. He leaned his forehead against mine. “No. I should have led with that. Sorry. Angelique is not my favorite cousin, even though she’s my only cousin, so that was a strike against coming here. But I couldn’t pass up the chance to live in New Orleans for a year to soak up all the music, you know? And I wanted the space from my dad. Even though it meant coming to LaSalle. That bummed me out at first. I wanted to go to Ben Franklin.”
That made sense. Ben Franklin was a nationally renowned public charter school with an insanely good music program. “That would have been perfect for you,” I said.
“Nah. LaSalle is perfect for me.” He tapped my nose softly. “Ben Franklin doesn’t have you. LaSalle wins.” I blushed and he let me off the hook, leaning back to tell me the last of it.
“I was so ticked when I found out that another prep school was a condition of me moving down here. I hated my old one. My dad never let up, pushing me toward all the classes that would get me into an Ivy. I only agreed to LaSalle on the condition that I could take what I wanted. It might be the first time we compromised in the history of ever. I think he only agreed to it because he was so distracted with, you know, death threats.”
“It’s not funny,” I said. “It’s really scary.”
“No, it’s not. I promise, it’s fine now. There hasn’t been a single incident since I’ve been down here. The agent in charge is pretty sure the losers lost my trail. My sister is definitely safe. It’s fine.”
“What about your mom?” I asked.
His face tightened. “My mom refuses to leave. She’s...dependent on my dad. She kind of gets lost without him.” He heaved a sigh. “She’d be worse off somewhere else without him than she is staying there. Emotionally, I mean.”
This was all so much information. I’d sensed layers in Rhett from the very beginning, and they were making more sense now. “You are an unusual kind of guy. You’re on the run from the mob in Chicago, you get to pick whatever classes you want to take, yet you still stick yourself in calculus and AP English, and you’re slumming with a scholarship student. You’re a piece of work.”
He lunged forward and pressed a hard, almost painful kiss on my mouth. “I’m not slumming. And I’ll shut your mouth again that way if I have to.”
“Slumming.” Kiss. “Slumming.” Kiss. “Slumming!” KISS.
“Can I tell you another secret?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“I take the hard classes because I’m shooting for a scholarship. To here,” he said, opening a desk drawer and pulling out a shiny red brochure. “They have the best jazz studies program in the country.”
“Berklee School of Music,” I read. “Why do I think your dad isn’t going to be happy about this?
“He won’t. He’ll refuse to pay for it. Which is why I need a scholarship. Which is why I need my grades to be as good as my music.” He smiled. “You inspired me. I see how hard you’re working for the future you want, so I’m doing the same.”
I stared at him, amazed. “Iinspiredyou?”
“Yeah. So I’m going after the school I want, like you are.”
“SATs?” I asked, uncomfortable with the praise. But I stored it up to relive later. “You did okay?”
He smiled. “Better than okay. You?”
“Better than okay.”
