Low Over High (The Over Duet #1) Read online

  “I’ve got this,” I say, meeting his challenge head on. I smile, grateful that Ever has such a good friend on his side. “You deserve good things, Jeb.”

  “No, I really don’t.” He smiles when he says it, like this fact holds no bearing on his mood or his life. It’s just a simple fact.

  “You’re wrong.” He quirks an eyebrow at me, and I shrug. “I’m sorry, but you’re wrong. I wish you could see the guy I see. Because that guy is amazing. How can you want great things for Ever and not even entertain the possibility that beautiful things, great things, could be right around the corner for you?”

  Before Jeb can respond, the commons room door opens, and Charlotte and some guy file in, carrying book sacks and take-out containers from the cafeteria. I may be biased, but the guy looks like a poser to me—a Bill Gates wannabe with fake glasses and a pocket protector. Jeb sits at attention, eyes trained on Charlotte as she actively ignores him.

  And now I see what this homework session was all about.

  “What’s up, Charlotte,” Jeb says as she passes, reaching out to touch her hand.

  “Stop talking,” she practically spits out, wrenching her hand away.

  Jeb deflates as I sit here and watch this tragedy unfolding. My heart breaks for him, and I reach across the table to grab his hand. He pulls back and smiles—no less wide, but a helluva lot more fake than the one I saw earlier.

  “Because the beautiful things in this world are always too eager to show me exactly what I don’t deserve, that’s why,” he says as he unlatches the paper clips from his neck and shoves his books into his bag.

  “I hope she comes around, because I can see how much you like her. And I really think … she might like you just as much.” I hesitate on my last words, not wanting to give Jeb false hope. I truly believe Charlotte cares for him, but I’m not sure she’ll ever do anything about it.

  His lips quirk up into a sad smile, and he huffs. “Her head is harder than my dick, and that’s saying a lot. Believe me, when it comes to Charlotte, there’s no ‘kind-of woody.’ The damn thing could beat a Crusader in a sword fight most days.”

  “Pervy Perverson,” I say with a chuckle. “I have to admit, Jeb, I’m a little hurt. What does she have that I don’t? I may flash a little nip your way, see if I can turn that woody from ‘kind of’ to ‘petrified.’”

  He barks out a laugh and shakes his head at me. I’m glad to see his humor beating down his sorrow. I hope I can trust it; that it’s not just a show for my benefit, but he’d never admit it. Jeb is more guarded than he seems, despite his carefree nature. Maybe he and Ever aren’t all that different, after all.

  “See you around, Low Down Dirty Shame.”

  As Jeb trudges across the commons room, and out the door with a longing glance in Charlotte’s direction, I’ve never wanted to throat punch my roommate more.

  Marlo

  “HELLO?” I CALL out, edging open the front door, only to be met with a billow of smoke. I wave my hands frantically and cough, attempting to clear the air … and my lungs. “Evelyn? What the…”

  Ever sets me aside and widens the door. “Wait here until I figure out what the hell’s going on,” he says, covering his face with his shirt and running into Evelyn and Oliver’s house.

  Moments later, he’s back with Evelyn in tow, sputtering and looking a little sheepish. I have my cell phone in hand, ready to dial, if necessary.

  “Are you all right, Evelyn? Do I need to call the fire department?” After getting a closer look, I don’t see any sign of burns, other than the red flush of embarrassment painted on her cheeks, along with smudges of something black and greasy all over her blouse and face.

  “I-I wanted to cook something special for you. I’m not a very good cook, but I swear I followed the directions, step by step. I don’t know what happened,” she stammers, pulling at her ruined blouse and sighing.

  Ever pulls his lips together and suppresses a smile. “No harm done. We just need to air out the place for a bit. Evelyn may have taken the term blackened redfish a bit too far.”

  Evelyn lowers her head and wrings her hands. She looks almost repentant, and a whole lot embarrassed, so I keep my mouth shut for the time being. That is, until I see her shoulders shaking as she snickers.

  “I turned those filets into charcoal briquettes with scales!” She hoots with laughter as she clutches her stomach.

  The dam breaks, and we all laugh until tears cloud our eyes, although that can partially be attributed to the smoke still flowing out the front door in a steady stream. Ever walks around the back of the house and opens another door to create an airflow and get rid of the smoke more quickly.

  “Why don’t we relax in the courtyard for a bit and let the place air out?” Evelyn suggests. “Once it’s a little clearer, I’ll grab your birthday cake, Marlo. We can have dessert first. How does that sound?”

  I steal a quick glance at Ever, and his eyes are on me, questioning. Yes, my birthday is tomorrow, but I never really gave it much thought. Besides, what would I have done? “Oh, Ever, my birthday’s this week, in case you were wondering.” Yeah, I don’t think so.

  “That sounds great, Evelyn. You didn’t have to do that, but thank you.” I smile, and she seems pleased.

  We pass the time talking about school and the market, and I’m surprised how relaxed I feel. When I’d spoken to Evelyn on the phone earlier this week, the conversation felt forced and unnatural. All the forward momentum created from our weekly visits had evaporated with one unfortunate hiccup. I guess I should be grateful she almost burned down the house, because it seems to have shaken the nerves out of us.

  After the smoke dies down, and Evelyn goes inside to grab the cake, Ever nudges my knee with his Converse. He scoots his chair closer, his knees on either side of mine, casing me in, and his hands rest on the tops of my thighs. He squeezes gently and smiles. His lips only show a tiny smirk, but his mossy green eyes are grinning.

  “That fireman maneuver? Running inside the house to save the day?” I lean in, only an inch of air separating us. “So hot.”

  “Yeah? You know what else is hot?” His breath dances across my lips, bridging the distance between us. “My birthday isn’t for another month. That makes you the older woman. My young and impressionable mind can’t resist the feminine wiles of a bonafide cougar.”

  “Ha!” I sit back and cross my arms. “Young and impressionable, my ass.”

  He chuckles, then a slight frown tugs at his lips. “I wish you would have told me it was your birthday. I feel like a jerk left holding the bag. I wish I had something to give you.”

  “I don’t need a single thing,” I say, and it’s the truth. Spending time with him is the only present I want from him. “My birthday is actually tomorrow, but I didn’t tell you because it’s not a big deal. I’m not a girl who needs the big gesture.”

  His hands move from the top of my thighs to under my knees, and he pulls me forward. “Bullshit. You are exactly the kind of girl that needs the big gesture. Maybe ‘need’ is the wrong word. But you deserve it. I know that much.” He looks down and watches his thumbs running back and forth over the tops of my thighs. He lifts his head, meeting my gaze, and whispers, “I’m gonna make it up to you.”

  Before I can respond, Evelyn bounds through the door holding a rectangular cake box with a stack of paper plates and utensils teetering on top. She places the cake on the table and hands each of us a plate and fork.

  “It’s a bit nerve-wracking choosing a birthday cake for a baker, so I decided to go local. I ordered you a praline king cake with a cream cheese filling. Have you ever had king cake before, Marlo?”

  Evelyn opens the box, and reveals the most decadent twisted pastry, drizzled with caramel and pecans. My mouth waters after just one glance.

  “I’ve heard of king cakes before, but I’ve never eaten one,” I say, lifting my plate, ready to dive in.

  “They’re a Mardi Gras tradition in these parts, but most bakeries let you
special order them year round,” she explains, filling each of our plates with delicious gooeyness.

  She hands me my plate first. “Happy birthday, Marlo. I’ve missed more birthdays than I can ever make up for, but I’m grateful to be here with you today.”

  I take the plate from her and resist the urge to stand up and hug her. It took a lot of courage for her to say that, especially in front of Ever, and her vulnerability shows in her unsteady hands and shaky smile. “Thank you. I’m glad to be here, too.”

  As I slide a piece off my fork and into my mouth, I let out a moan. The mixture of caramel, pecans, cream cheese, and cinnamon is like an eruption on my tongue.

  Oh yes, this baker is learning how to make a king cake pronto. Happy birthday to me.

  Luckily, Evelyn hadn’t burned all the fish, and there was more than enough left to salvage dinner. When Ever had volunteered to take over Evelyn’s cooking duties, she was all too happy to oblige. In fact, she had been so happy he’d offered, she’d wrapped him in a big bear hug. Ever had taken it in stride.

  “Evelyn, there’s a pack of crawfish in your fridge. Do you mind if I make an étouffée to go on top of the fish? It would be delicious.” He peeks his head out from behind the refrigerator door, and Evelyn claps her agreement.

  “Of course, of course. And if Etienne taught you how to make it, I’m sure it will be divine,” she says, rubbing her hands together and closing her eyes.

  “Okay, I’ll need onions, bell pepper, celery…” Ever says, as he rummages through the fridge.

  “Hmmm, I’m not sure I have those.”

  Evelyn rounds the kitchen island and stands behind Ever. He turns around with bell peppers and celery in his hand. After placing them on the counter, he finds onions and garlic in her pantry. He points to the pile of veggies on the counter and looks at Evelyn.

  “These are must haves in a New Orleans kitchen. Make sure to always keep them on hand. Onions. Bell peppers. Celery. These are the Holy Trinity of Cajun and Creole cooking,” he says after holding up each ingredient.

  “Holy Trinity?” I ask, eyeing him curiously.

  “That’s what I said. The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,” he says, doing the sign of the cross, kissing his fingers and raising them in the air. “And garlic is a close number four. If the first three are the Holy Trinity, I guess garlic would be Mary.”

  “The virgin or the whore?” The words fly out without a second thought, and I slap my hand over my mouth. Luckily, Evelyn laughs right along with Ever, so I relax back into the stool.

  He chuckles while putting the onion on a cutting board and getting to work. “Whoever is most important, so I’m gonna go with Virgin on this one.”

  I watch Ever as he expertly slices and dices, the muscles in his forearms never looking quite so manly as they do tonight. He cooks at the market all the time, but I’m always focused on my baking, so I don’t pay much attention. He moves so effortlessly, obviously from muscle memory, and I’m in awe that he hasn’t lost a finger yet. His movements are so quick and fluid, and in no time at all, there’s a gorgeous meal arranged on the kitchen island, ready to be eaten. Evelyn and I can only take credit for the salad … and Ever cut the cucumbers and avocado for us.

  But, hey, I poured the dressing.

  “This is delicious, Ever. I’m in awe that a young man your age can whip up such a magnificent meal. The baker and the chef,” she says, beaming at us. “The two of you are always welcome here, no matter if we are around. You’ve got an open invitation.”

  My fork stops mid-bite, and I watch her closely. What in the world does she mean by that? Does she have any idea what she’s proposing to a couple of teenagers?

  “I just mean if you two need some alone time, mi casa es su casa.” She giggles and shrugs. “Oliver has several trips over the next few months, and I’ll be accompanying him, and then I have market … so, like I said, the house will be empty. Please feel welcome to use your key and security code that I gave you, Marlo.”

  I turn my attention to Ever, and he looks far less shell-shocked than me. I swallow my surprise and give Evelyn a short nod.

  “Yes, thank so much, Evelyn. I appreciate it.”

  Jeez, if my dad only knew what she was offering … I have a feeling his feathered hair would blow back and his eyes would pop out of their sockets.

  But what Daddy doesn’t know…

  Ever

  REMY’S APARTMENT IS only two blocks from Evelyn’s, so Marlo and I swing by before heading back to school. He didn’t have any weed on him at work today, so this little visit is a necessity. I thought Marlo would be uneasy when I brought it up, but it didn’t faze her at all.

  I ring the bell to his apartment, and he meets us at the gate to let us in. He lives at the end of the dank alleyway flanked with molded and broken latticework from the houses on either side. Remy lives in the rear of the house on the left.

  The music is audible when we get halfway down the alley, and I recognize Layne Staley’s screams when Remy opens his front door. A girl with purple dreads and a row of lip rings sits at Remy’s kitchen table, playing cards by herself. One hand holds her chin as she taps her cheek, while the other hand fiddles with her pack of Pall Malls. As I look through the kitchen into the living room, I see more people milling around, oblivious to our arrival.

  The kitchen feels like it’s been coated in a thin layer of burnt cooking grease, and cabinets with no doors overflow with cups, opened cereal boxes, and more cans of Vienna sausage than any one person should own in a lifetime. Dirty dishes tumble out of the sink and onto the counter, only stopped by an impressive collection of take-out containers of every variety.

  I’ve been here several times before, but I’ve never seen the place in such grotesque technicolor as I do tonight. It’s as if I slipped on my 3D glasses and got way more than I bargained for. I tug at my collar, battling the overwhelming need to bathe, and the growing guilt for subjecting Low to a place like this.

  She doesn’t belong anywhere near this shithole.

  “Lana, how about you keep Marlo here company while I visit with my man, Ever,” Remy suggests, and Lana nods grudgingly.

  Remy grabs Lana’s dreads and tugs her head back. He puts his lips on hers, while eyeing Marlo and pointing to the empty chair, motioning for her to sit. I look to Marlo for any sign that she’s afraid, but she only smiles and waves at me.

  I follow Remy down the hallway, and he pulls out his keys when he gets to his bedroom door. He sets about unlocking the two deadbolts, and simultaneously giving me the side eye.

  “How was high tea with New Orleans royalty? Must be nice, rubbing elbows with the elite. Sorry you had to come slum it over here,” he says with a fake chuckle and an honest sneer.

  “Shut up, man. It’s not like that. You make it sound like Marlo is part of that scene, and she’s not. That’s not who she is,” I say as Remy shuffles through the top drawer of his dresser. “You see her at the market. She’s cool.”

  He shakes his head as he takes out a dubsack of weed and sets it on top of the dresser. “It’s just that—you know what, never mind. I don’t know what I’m saying. None of it makes a difference, anyway.”

  I hand him a twenty and pocket what I came for, wondering if he’s gonna come clean about what the hell is bothering him. I can’t imagine he still thinks he laid some imaginary claim on Marlo. Remy’s a grown ass man. It would be a pussy move to piss, pout, and moan about a girl he never even had one date with. Shit, he never even asked her out at all.

  I take his silence to mean he’s gotten the hell over whatever crawled up his ass, and step toward the door. I grab the handle and turn around to look him in the eye.

  “We cool, Remy?”

  He lays both hands on the dresser and leans in as he shakes his head at me. He pushes off and stalks toward me, shoving my shoulder as he passes. “Yeah, asshole, we’re cool.”

  He makes it halfway down the hall before he turns around and tosses another baggie at me. I cat
ch it one-handed and stare at the tiny white rectangles in the palm of my hand.

  “What the hell is this?”

  “I had a couple extra, and I thought you might want to try them out. They’re Xanbars … they help take the edge off,” he says, and winks as he saunters away.

  I see Marlo walking toward me, and I shove the baggie in my pocket before she sees it. Remy’s never supplied me with anything other than weed, and I honestly didn’t think he dealt anything else.

  Before I put much more thought into it, Marlo slips her arms around my waist and squeezes.

  “Ready?”

  “You have no idea,” I say with a relieved sigh, as we get the hell out of this place.

  “I’m sorry I brought you over there. It was a stupid thing to do,” I say, with hunched shoulders and my hands stuffed in my pockets.

  “Hey, it was fine. I mean, someone needs to take a firehose to the place, and Remy needs some serious lessons in housecleaning, but I don’t care about that,” she says with a smile. I open my mouth to apologize again, but she lays a finger on my lips. She keeps on walking without me, and I have to weave through other pedestrians to catch up to her.

  I catch Marlo’s swinging hand in mine, and she undoes me with a simple smile. Simple doesn’t seem like the right word, because there’s nothing simple about Marlo. Pure, maybe. Emotion coming from a place of total honesty—that’s what she gives me. Other than East, I don’t think I’ve ever had that with another person. My relationships are usually tainted with obligation, anger, regret, or some combination of the three.

  “We’d be magical, you and me,” she whispers, nuzzling her head into my neck as we make our way back to school. I lean down and kiss her forehead, smelling her hair without being too conspicuous. She’ll think I’m a goddamn creeper if she catches me sniffing her.