Page 101 of Rebel Romeo

I shook my head. I needed to make a decision soon, though. If I wasn’t going to continue as Romeo, then they needed to recast me and start rehearsing the new person immediately. “But I’ve been thinking about what you said.”

This seemed to take her by surprise. She stumbled beside me, her steps faltering. “In what way?”

“Don’t let this go to your head,” I teased her. “And I don’t think I’m the next Leonardo DiCaprio or anything, but I feel good when I’m on stage. I feel, I don’t know, like I’m doing something natural. Like I’m where I’m supposed to be. Being on stage feels like…”

“… home.” She finished the thought for me.

I wasn’t even sure how I was going to finish the sentence, but when she said the word, it resonated like a cymbal crash in my heart.

Home.

Being on the stage with Katherine felt like coming home.

Emotions tangled in my chest, knotting the ball tighter, larger and I cleared my throat to try to dislodge it. “And let’s be honest, my dad telling me I have to quit? That’s simply motivation to find a way to stick with it.”

Katherine rolled her eyes at me. “I’m sure he just wants what’s best for you.”

I snorted my opinion of her sentiment. “He wants what’s best for his latest campaign.”

I held the door to the theater for her, still hand in hand. Keith and McCay were at the back row, right near the door, speaking in hushed tones as we entered and their gazes immediately dropped to where our hands were linked.

Normally, my instinct would be to release Katherine’s hand. But this time, I squeezed her tighter, holding on like she was my life raft in the middle of a riptide.

To her credit, Professor McCay didn’t look surprised at all. Keith on the other hand couldn’t stop the way his eyes bugged out as he looked back and forth between us.

“Mr. Dorsey,” McCay said. “Can I speak to you for a moment?” Her eyes flicked briefly to Kate before she added, “Alone.”

“Kate, why don’t we do some of the solo scene work with you in the death scene?” Keith offered and ushered Kate down to the stage while McCay led the way out of the theater into the hall.

It was weird to see the theater building so empty. Usually our Sunday rehearsals are still buzzing with people. Either our other cast members or dance rehearsals for other classes. But this morning was different. It was eerie how quiet it was in the hallway outside of the theater.

“Your dad came to see me,” McCay said.

Shit. I’d really, really hoped he’d been bluffing when he said he had a meeting with her. I lifted my eyebrows, doing my best not to react to the news. “And?”

“And he’s very persuasive.”

“Let me guess. He tried to get you to boot me from the show?”

She nodded. “He did. And I said no. You’re an adult and you can make your own decisions.”

“Uh-huh.” That line of thinking didn’t work with my dad. He believed he owned me. I wasn’t a person. I was his prop. His tool.

“Thing is,”Professor McCay continued, “if you’re no longer in this show, then I can’t offer you the second credit. Which means, you’re stuck taking another elective next semester, too.”

I press my lips together. “So either way, you get what you want?”

She shrugged. “What I want is to see you rise to your full potential as an actor. What I want is the world to see you shine as Remy at the Kennedy Center. And that’s what I told your father. But ultimately, it’s your decision, Holden.”

“Sure. And when he didn’t get his way, how much did he offer as a donation to the theater program if you cut me from the show?”

Her mouth twitched briefly. “Very astute, Mr. Dorsey.”

I sighed. “Great. So I’m out? This is it?”

“Hardly. What your dad didn’t realize is that I come from money, myself. A lot of money. I teach because I love it. But the program isn’t hurting for funding. Not at all. Anything he offered to donate, I could supplement in my sleep.”

The fact that McCay could easily match whatever number my dad had tossed around told me she had a lot. Like the kind of trust fund money that comes with being an heir… “Wait a minute. McCay. As in McCay Granola Bars?”

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