Page 111 of Rebel Romeo

“It’s okay, Professor,” I said, taking the steps off the stage two at a time. “This is my mom.”

“Your—” Professor McCay blinked, the surprise that registered on her face a little confusing. “Your mom?”

“Yeah. Mom, this is Professor McCay.”

My mom’s shoulders went stiff, her shrewd gaze assessing Professor McCay briefly before she reached out and shook the professor’s hand, swaying in her Gucci shoes. I ducked beside her, still clad only in the stupid boxer briefs, and held her carefully upright before she could stumble and fall. She reeked of gin. The not so subtle scent, stale and putrid and seeping from her pores.

McCay looked between us briefly before clearing her throat. “I apologize. I’ve spoken to your husband about Holden’s participation in the show, but not you.’

Mom’s smile was forced. The average person might not notice, but I knew it well. “I had to see the girl for myself.”

“The… girl?” McCay repeated.

“You know,” Mom’s pause was pointed and I glanced at her, momentarily confused. It must be the gin talking nonsensically. “Holden’s Juliet,” she clarified as if it made any sense at all. As if she, herself, hadn’t tried to bribe Katherine out of doing this show a mere couple weeks earlier. “I had been hoping to sneak a peek for a while now, but then when Erik told me how highly you spoke of Holden’s performance, I had to come see it for myself.”

“From Boston?” I hissed. “Kind of a long trip to see a rehearsal, Mom.” Especially when you’re drunk.

“Well, I was at the Manhattan brownstone.”

“That’s not much closer.”

McCay stepped back. “I’ll, uh, let you two talk.”

I released my hold on Mom, stomping to the front row to grab my jeans. I stepped into them, one leg at a time and pulled them up as my mom tried to give me a hug.

“Holden, I meant what I said. You were wonderful?—”

“What the hell are you doing here, Mom?” I whispered with a quick glance around.

“I told you. I had to see my boy on the stage to believe it. I had to see this talent your teacher said you had. And she was right.” With expensive manicured hands, mom cupped my jaw. “You were brilliant up there.”

“You’re my mom. Of course you think that.” Rolling my eyes, I shrug into my shirt, pulling it overhead.

“And you!” She pointed somewhere over my shoulder and I whipped around to see Katherine coming in from the backstage where she’d changed back into her clothes.

She went ramrod straight, seeing my mother for the first time. “Mrs. Dorsey?” she squeaked, then panicked, Katherine looked at me for help.

With a sigh, I shrugged and mouthed I’m sorry as my mom rushed up to her and tried to hug her.

“You were fabulous!” Mom gushed.

“Um… thank you?”

“Really. I’m so glad my little blackmail scheme didn’t work.” Mom paused to boop Katherine’s nose like she was a kitten or something.

“Okay,” I rushed forward, taking hold of my mom’s arms and guiding her away from Katherine. “Let’s um, let’s go back to my place and sleep it off, huh?”

“Don’t you have class?”

I gnashed my teeth together, breathing through my frustration. “Nothing I can’t make up with extra credit.”

“Yay!” Mom exclaimed, lifting her hands into the air. “A pajama day!”

Emotion clogged my throat at the expression. Mom and I used to have self-proclaimed pajama days whenever she was too hungover to get dressed. It was simultaneously a wonderful and tragic memory, all at once. “Yeah, Mom. A pajama day,” I said, my throat tight. I didn’t even have it in me to feign enthusiasm. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

Holding the chairs for balance, she took a few steps before plopping to sit down in one a few rows away from us as I walked up to Katherine. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “She just showed up?—”

“It’s okay,” Katherine said. “But is she okay? She seems…”

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