Low Over High (The Over Duet #1) Page 6
“Oh, really.” Ever crosses his arms, his expression a mixture between not believing a word I’m saying and surprise that I’d admit giving him a second thought.
I’ll give his stupid, smug face a second thought, all right.
I finish up and rip the page out of my notebook, folding it again and again until it’s the size of a credit card. I stand up and collect my things, pinging the note at his head as I walk away.
“Just for you, bridge troll.”
I open the door and leave without sparing him a second glance.
Ever be nimble,
Ever be quick,
Ever can’t find his teeny, tiny dick.
I may have even drawn him a stick figure sporting the teeniest circumcised penis to drive the point home.
“I have a tiny confession to make, Marlo. I hope you won’t be angry with me,” Evelyn says as she covers her lips with her fingers and raises her shoulders like she’ll explode if she doesn’t spill.
It’s our Thursday dinner night, and I may have been the tiniest bit glad when Evelyn told me Oliver wouldn’t be able to join us tonight. He’s out of town on business for the week, so it would be “just us girls.” The moment the words left her mouth, I relaxed like a pair of elastic pants after Sunday dinner. Oliver is nice … cordial, but I get the feeling my mere presence is a burden to him. I feel like he may view me as Evelyn’s dirty little secret, even though I don’t get that same vibe from her.
“Confess away.” I smile, curling my feet up onto her couch.
“I brought some of your cupcakes back to the market for Etienne to taste. They were so delicious, I knew he would just die for them.”
I’m surprised she ate enough to have an opinion. From what I remember from our dinner, she’d barely tasted two meager forkfuls while looking at Oliver and commenting about watching her weight. Anyway, I guess that small taste had made an impression, and I feel a tiny burst of pride.
“Really? What did he say?”
My stomach flips while I wait for her to answer. She slaps my knees and giggles. I love how she’s almost childlike tonight. She’s still dressed to the nines and made up perfectly, which makes her look more like a little girl playing dress up in her mom’s closet than the woman she is.
Tonight, I feel a sisterly vibe forming between us. I’m past the point in my life where I want Evelyn to take on a motherly role, and that’s okay. The nature of our relationship doesn’t have to be defined by DNA; we can decide on our own where we want to take things.
“He couldn’t get enough of them! He positively gushed, Marlo,” she says, beaming. “He wants you to bake for him. He wants to sell your treats at the deli counter. He offered to have you pick up a few hours after school, if you’re interested. Isn’t that great?”
My cheeks hurt from the gigantic grin tugging at my mouth. I can’t believe he wants to offer me a job. I’ve been baking with Nana for years; it’s something I love to do. The question is, can I fit it in around my school work?
“I don’t know, Evelyn. I’m not sure how that would work with school. Honestly, I don’t even know if Orleans Academy allows students to have part-time jobs.”
She’s shaking her head even before I finish. “Etienne already looked into it for you, just in case you agreed. No pressure, though,” she explains, while raising a hand before I can protest. “He has a student from the academy working for him already, so he knew the appropriate channels to get it approved. You’re all set with the school. If you choose to take the job, you’ll submit your work schedule to your RA every week. That’s all there is to it, really. What do you think?”
I roll the idea around in my mind, feeling giddy at the thought of it. Orleans Academy keeps its students so segregated from the city around them, and this job would be an opportunity to truly experience New Orleans—to feel a part of it all. I’ll have to work extra hard to stay on top of my schoolwork. If my grades suffer, my dad and Nana will kill me. But it could be fun…
“I think I love it!”
We both shriek, and then burst into laughter.
The bell chimes above our heads as we walk inside the market, and I scan the store, looking for Etienne. I hear a low, melodic whistle coming from the back.
“Is that my little baker and my favorite customer? My darling, Marlo, please tell me you will bake for me. Yes?” Etienne asks as he bounds up the aisle and air kisses both my cheeks. After doing the same to Evelyn, he grabs both my hands and gives me an expectant look.
I smile and give him a little nod. He wraps me in a tight hug and leaves his arm around my shoulder as he leads me to the deli counter.
“Wonderful, my pretty one, wonderful! You won’t regret it. You’ll have such fun, and I’ll gain ten pounds. Everyone wins.” Etienne chuckles and leads me behind the counter as if I’m starting today.
“What’s mine is yours. Raid my shelves, use my pans and ovens. Make magic with those little fingers,” he says with a wave of his hand.
Evelyn follows us to the counter and laughs. “You can’t have her today, Etienne. She and I have a night of girl talk planned. Isn’t that right, Marlo?”
I nod at Evelyn, and then shrug at Etienne. “Yes, we do. Could I … could I start Monday? Is that too soon?”
“No such thing! In fact, you can meet my other student worker today. He’s out back unloading a truck with Remy. The two of you could walk to work together. Etienne worries, you know. I don’t want anything to happen to you, pretty one.”
He continues to show me around, pointing out a mixer, baking pans, and other tools I’ll need. My mind runs a mile a minute, thinking of all the creations I can make with an entire store of ingredients at my fingertips. I’m already planning my first few projects in my head when I hear the back door slam shut, laughter following closely behind.
It’s not until a familiar head of shaggy dark hair and low slung jeans come into view that I tense. His eyes land on me and irritation prickles my skin. My shirt collar feels itchy and tight, and I tug the material and let out a frustrated huff.
“Everett, come meet our new employee. Since you attend the same school, you may know each other,” Etienne says, lifting his eyebrows in question.
Boy, what a loaded question. Met, assaulted, insulted? Yes to all of those. After my beautiful poetry and skillful sketch, Ever retaliated with a limerick of his own. He dropped it in my lap before Fine Arts Survey started, a class I neglected to notice he was in. It’s a large stadium-style classroom—the perfect place for assholes to lurk in the shadows.
Little Miss Marlo,
Sits on her throne.
Thinking that she’s the shit.
Then along comes Ever,
Showing her she’ll never,
Be anything but a rotten twit.
There was even a sketch of me, on a throne, with a pile of shit on my head as my “crown.” The jerk. I mean, he’s a funny jerk, but still…
“We’ve met,” I eek out as I glare in his direction.
Of all the assholes in all the world…
“Yeah, I know her,” Ever says with a deadpan look.
Remy winks and squeezes my shoulder as he rounds the counter. “Good to see you again, Marlo. Glad I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”
I tear my eyes away from Ever and smile at Remy. At least someone is happy to see me. It’s not like I knew he worked here. I have just as much right to be pissed off as he does. Why does he keep invading my life? He may see it as the other way around, but it’s not like I’m actively seeking him out. It just keeps happening.
“Thanks, Remy. It’s good to see you, too,” I say, leaning into him with a flirty smile. No reason to be bristly to everyone.
As we wrap up the tour and grab our dinner from Etienne, I shoot one last evil eye at Ever, followed by a sweet and innocent smile to Remy.
Evelyn chuckles and mutters, “Well, this should be interesting.”
Oh, it’ll be something, all right…
Marlo
Bing.
Charlotte’s phone … again. She cranes her neck and glances at the screen before dimming it with a click of her finger. That’s the fifth time in the last hour. And she may try to play innocent, but I see the name that keeps flashing across her screen.
“So what’s the deal with you and Jeb?” I ask, giving Charlotte a sideways glance.
Time to shake up the stiff in the room.
Her pen stops moving across the paper for a second. “I don’t know what you mean,” she says, and then starts back writing, without even a glance in my direction.
Bing.
I chuckle, and she sighs, dimming her phone once again.
“Oh, I think you do. You know he only has eyes for you, right? Every move he makes, he’s watching for your reaction. It’s kind of cute, actually.”
I sneak a peek in her direction and smirk. She drops her pen and pinches the bridge of her nose, squinting like I just gave her a head-splitting migraine. Okay, not the reaction I was expecting…
“There’s nothing there, Low, because there can be nothing there. That’s the short answer, all right?”
“Hmmmm,” I say as I watch her actively ignore me. “You react to him, too. Shallow breaths, sideways glances … pointy nips—”
“Okay, that’s enough, you little meddler.”
I knew that last one would get her attention.
She turns in her chair and sighs. “It doesn’t matter how either of us feels. Nothing can ever come from it besides a little bit of fun.”
I shrug. “Looks like more than fun to me.”
She shakes her head.
“Jeb and I have chosen our paths, and the two will never cross. I walk the line, work my ass off to be the best. Next year? Tulane. After that? Law school. I’m already studying for the LSATS.” Charlotte leans forward, placing her elbows on her knees. “Jeb? He works hard at not working and pissing off his parents. Next year? Fucking off. The year after that? I’m not sure, but if I hazard to guess, I bet he’ll still be fucking off.”
I can’t hide the frown pulling at my lips. I sigh and rest my head on my fist. “I don’t know. It seems to me it’s pretty early in our lives to say we’ve already chosen our paths. I have no clue what I want to do—who I want to be. I like the idea of figuring it out as I go. Maybe you’re condemning Jeb before ever giving him a chance.”
Charlotte scoffs and shakes her head. “Look, Low, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but you have no clue what you’re talking about,” she says, raising her hand to stop me from interrupting. “Jeb and I weren’t raised the same as you. I may have only met your dad and brother for a second, but that’s all it took for me to know. Whether your dream is to be a doctor or a ditch digger, your dad would love you regardless. There’s nothing unconditional about my life. From the time I could walk, expectations were placed on me. Same for Jeb. We just reacted to those expectations differently.”
I can’t even fathom what it would be like to grow up that way. One thing’s for sure, with my sassy mouth and petulant attitude, my decisions would align me more closely with Jeb than Charlotte.
“That’s … awful.”
Charlotte shrugs and turns back to her homework. “Maybe, but it doesn’t change anything. So when I say there’s nothing there, just believe me. It can never be anything but fun, and no one can ever know even that much.”
I straighten and turn toward her. “Well, I just think that—”
“Hola lovelies,” Delilah sings as she flounces into the room.
Charlotte flashes me her “shut your pie-hole” eyes, and I zip my lips. We both turn our attention to our roommate, who is humming softly to herself as she flits across the room.
“I take it you had a good time?” I giggle, and her mouth curves into a million-watt smile.
“He’s amazing. Ron is so hot, and funny, and smart, and hot,” Delilah gushes.
“Let’s not forget the important things. The boy is hot,” Charlotte says with raised eyebrows.
It didn’t take me long to realize Delilah has the attention span of a gnat. I can’t even call her boyfriends the flavor of the week, because they rarely last that long. They’re more like flavors of the moment—silly whims of an indecisive girl. Delilah falls in love like most dogs nap—hard, often, and accompanied by a fair amount of drool.
“Right?” Delilah grabs a set of pajamas out of her drawer and claps her hands. “Let’s watch a movie before bed. I bet there’s no one in the commons room. We could pop some popcorn and get candy out of the vending machines.”
Charlotte and I both look at the clock and then at each other.
11:00 P.M.
“That’s a terrible idea. We all have to be up at the butt crack and you haven’t even started studying yet, Delilah.” Charlotte turns back to her desk without waiting for a reply.
“Pshh. I studied with Ron,” she says as she turns to me, having lost Charlotte’s attention.
“Um, your book sack is right over there, Delilah,” I say pointing to the side of her desk. “That’s where it’s been all night.”
She waves me off with a huff and rolls her eyes. “I mean, we called a few things out to each other from memory. It’s all good.”
“Christ,” Charlotte mutters under her breath, just as my phone starts ringing. “Of course, you get saved by the bell.”
“Sorry,” I whisper, as I make my way to the door, excited to see “Daddio” blinking on my screen. I hear Delilah chattering on as I shut the door behind me. “Hey, Dad. What are you doing up so late? Rowdy the Rooster shows no mercy.”
“Hey, baby! Rowdy’s an old softy—you let me worry about him. I woke up to get something to drink and saw your text message. I couldn’t wait until morning to hear about this job,” he says, and I hear the smile in his voice through the phone. If I close my eyes, I can see the crooked curve of his lips, the rise of his cheeks, and the sunspots dotting his forehead from decades spent in the Texas sun.
God, I miss my daddy.
The feeling comes in a rush, choking the words and burning my nose. I keep so busy during the day, I don’t have time to think about home, but the sound of his voice pricks at my heart. It reminds me that life goes on, even if I’m not there to experience it. It makes me wish I could split myself in two and be in both places at the same time.
“Daddy,” I whisper with a sad smile, holding my bittersweet tears at bay.
He sighs. “My little Low, it’s so good to hear your voice. Tell me everything.”
And I do. I tell him all about my classes, the mountains of homework, and how I’m faring through it all. I talk about Delilah and Charlotte. He chuckles when I tell him, “I feel like Delilah and me are the raggedy wildflowers and Charlotte’s the perfectly groomed orchid.”
“Darlin’, I don’t know about you, but I like things a little wild.” I laugh, and he continues, “Low, an orchid is no more beautiful than a Texas bluebell catching wind on the side of the highway. They’re just different. Do you get my meaning?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’ve never been one to follow the crowd. I never worried about that with you. Now, Declan? That’s a different story. That boy would follow a pretty girl right off a cliff. But you’ve always known your own heart better than that. Don’t start doubting it now.”
I understand what he’s saying, and he’s right; I’ve never felt the need to imitate the masses. But when three girls cram into a tiny room, it’s hard not to compare sometimes. Just hearing the sound of my dad’s voice, and thinking back to Charlotte’s explanation of how she was raised, I set thos
e restless feelings aside.
I tell him all about Creole Market, Etienne, and my new job, which I start tomorrow. Surprisingly, he doesn’t sound the least bit worried about how I’ll juggle work and school, and that gives me a boost of confidence. If he thinks I can do it, then I know that I can.
“I can’t wait to tell Nana about this. Her little baker is all grown up,” he says, and I smile. “You feel safe getting to and from work, right, Low? You said there’s another student working there, too?”
“Yes, there’s another student, and we’re going to walk there and back together. I’ll be fine,” I say, and leave it at that. I may tell my dad most things, but that doesn’t mean I tell him everything.
He tells me all about Declan’s first day of school (he’s quite the ladykiller now that he’s been named quarterback of the JV football team), and Fisher’s wallowing in my absence (he won’t even go fishing at the pond), but I hear the yawns creeping into his voice. My dad is usually in bed right after sunset.
“I need to let you sleep, Dad. We’ll talk later this week, and I’ll tell you all about my first few days of work,” I say reluctantly, wanting more time, needing to feel the warm blanket of his voice for just a little while longer.
“No, no, tell me more, sweet girl,” he says, stopping to yawn again. “What else?”
“Give Nana a kiss for me, ‘kay? And scratch Fisher behind his right ear—he loves that. And be sure to flush the toilet while Declan’s in the shower. It’ll remind him of me,” I say with a laugh.
Dad chuckles. “Ha, boy needs a cold shower with all those girly phone calls he’s been gettin’.” He’s quiet for a moment, then lets out a long sigh. “I love you something fierce, Low, you know that?”
“Yeah, Daddy, I know,” I say, pushing back the familiar sting in my eyes. “I love you more.”
Ever