Page 5 of Behind the Bars

A few minutes went by with the two of them arguing over if it was disrespectful for Mama to meet with Trevor or not. She was a driven manager when it came to my career, and she never thought any idea was too extreme. She was the momager of all momagers, determined to do whatever it took to make me asuccess.

Ray was the opposite. He believed in my music, but he also believed in me being a kid, too. Having a life outside ofmusic.

“Maybe we should not talk about work at the dinner table,” Ray said, clearing histhroat.

“Music is all we talk about,” Mamaargued.

“Well, maybe that should change. We can talk about anything else,” Ray offered, moving his food around on his plate. “When I get home, I just want tounplug.”

“You’re the one who sat down and started talking about music in the first place!” Mama snapped. “But when I start talking about Jasmine’s career, it’s toomuch?”

“Mama,” I whispered, shaking myhead.

“Jasmine, hush and eat yoursalad.”

“Why are you only eating salad?” Rayquestioned.

I parted my lips to reply, but Mama stepped in before I could. “She’s on a newdiet.”

Ray laughed. “She’s sixteen and the size of a stick, Heather. She can eat whatever shewants.”

Then, like clockwork, they started arguing about the ins and outs of how Mama was raising me. By the end of the conversation, Mama had told him he didn’t have a say because he wasn’t myfather.

I hated how she threw that in his face whenever she didn’t get herway.

I always noticed how sad Ray’s eyes grew whenever she said thosewords.

Maybe on paper he wasn’t my father, but there was no doubt in my heart that he was mydad.

“I’m gonna take a breather,” Ray said, pushing his chair away from the table. He left the apartment with his pack of cigarettes to clear his head, which meant he was going to watch live music. Music always helped when Mama stressed himout.

It helped when she stressed me out,too.

After dinner, I headed straight to my room and started my homework. I was so behind on everything, but it was really important for me to seem as if I had my life together. Otherwise, I’d be forced back into being homeschooled, and that couldn’t happen, not after getting a taste of what being a true teenager feltlike.

“You have a good day, Snow White?” Ray asked, standing in my doorway hours later with his arms behind hisback.

I looked up from my math book andshrugged.

“You don’t have to lie—your mom’s sleeping. Was she hard onyou?”

“It’s fine. It’s my fault, really. I startedslacking.”

“She puts too much pressure on you,” he warnedme.

“‘Pressure makes diamonds,’” I said, mocking Mama’s words. Then, I smiled because Ray was beginning to frown. “I’m okay. Just tiredtoday.”

“You want me to try talking to heragain?”

I shook my head. If Ray told Mama I was stressed or overwhelmed, she’d be embarrassed, and whenever she felt embarrassed, she took it out onme.

“Why just salad for dinner?” Rayasked.

“Nothungry.”

“That’s too bad.” He grimaced and pulled out a bag of takeout. “Because I just picked up a burger and fries from down thestreet.”

My stomach growled the moment I saw thebag.

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