Page 88 of Make Me Scream

Walk out. Walk out now.

I’ve about hit my limit.

“I made this call, Rush. It was my decision, so leave her the fuck out of it.”

“She put herself before you. She’s a first-year, mediocre student. You’re a world-class talent and an excellent teacher. That bitch should be begging you not to throw away-”

The urge to punch him rises like acid in my throat; this time I don’t stop myself. It’s just a quick jab, a hot snap at his nose that’s over before Rush even realizes it happened, but it shuts him up pretty good. He clutches his face, then takes his hand away, checking his palm for blood that isn’t there.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Rush snarls. “Get the fuck out, before I have you arrested. Don’t come back to the school. I’ll mail your things. And don’t let me see you at the galleries. You’re done in New York.”

Turning to leave, I mutter, “This isn’t over.”

He slams the door behind me.

I don’t look back.

Chapter 21

My phone wakes me, buzzing against my desk like a power drill.

He fired me. You can stay.

Holy shit! Lane did it! But does he mean that he was literally fired, or is that his way of saying Mundell accepted his resignation?

What happened?

Come to the studio. There’s a lot to cover. We’re going to have to be really careful.

Oh, well that sounds fantastic.

He’ll use any excuse he can find to expel you. He’s going to make both our lives difficult.

What the fuck did he do last night? Clearly it wasn’t amicable.

I’m about to call him for some direct answers when I get an e-mail notification. It’s from Mundell and titled “Regarding your future.”

There’s only one line.

Meet at my office in one hour.

Fuck me.

I almost text Lane to tell him, but hold off.

What if he really fucked up last night? I’d like to hear Mundell’s version of what happened. Maybe there’s a way I could smooth things over. I’m probably being delusional, but as Mundell says, this is my future. The last thing I need is to spend the next year walking on eggshells, constantly waiting for Mundell to screw me over. He could expel me a week before graduation if he wanted to. If I can secure some kind of assurance that he won’t, it’s worth my time.

When he answers the door, he’s got a bandage across his nose.

Seriously, Lane?

He could have mentioned that they literally fought.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Mundell says. “Please, come in.”

“What the hell happened?” I ask, taking a seat in the recliner facing his desk.

“Oh, where to begin?” He brings over a serving tray with a teapot and two mugs. He pours one for himself and glances at me.

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