“Th-th-thank you,” he replied, rubbing his hands together before packing his instrument away. The moment I heard his shaky voice, I realized who he was.
Elliott.
I knew him—well, knew of him. He went to my school and was extremely shy. He was nothing like the boy who’d just played the music. It was almost as if he had two distinct personalities—the powerful musician and the bullied teenager.
The two looked nothing alike.
I stepped forward, wanting to speak, but I was uncertain what to say. As my lips parted, and I searched my mind for words, nothing came to me. He deserved something, a compliment, a smile, a touch of congratulations—anything—but I couldn’t even get him to look my way.
He wouldn’t look anyone’s way.
“Jasmine,” Mama called, breaking my stare away from Elliott. “Will you come on already?”
I glanced over my shoulder one last time, feeling a knot forming in my gut before hurrying over to Mama. “Coming.”
After my studio session, we got on another bus to head home. On the way, Mama told me everything I’d done wrong. She informed me of all my missteps and mistakes repeatedly as she cooked dinner. Then, we sat at the dining room table with the food untouched because we wouldn’t eat until Ray was home.
Of course, he was late, because Ray never knew how to leave the studio on time, so Mama’s temper grew, and she took it out on me. She never took it out on Ray, and I never understood why. Everything he did wrong was taken out on me.
I didn’t resent him, though. If anything, I was thankful Ray chose to love Mama, because it meant I was able to love him. He was a safe haven of sorts. When he wasn’t around, Mama was dark, lonely, empty, and mean. When Ray walked into a room, her eyes lit up.
“I’m late,” Ray said, walking into the house with a cigarette hanging from his lips. It was half smoked, and he put it out in the ashtray by the front door. I hated the smell of cigarettes, so he always did his best not to smoke in the house. Mama said he was a grown man and could smoke anywhere he pleased, but Ray wasn’t a jerk like that.
He loved me enough to respect my wishes.
“You’re not late,” Mama told him. “I just cooked too early, that’s all.”
“Because I said I would be earlier,” he said with a smirk.
Ray was always smiling, and it made everyone around him smile, too. He was the kind of man who looked effortlessly handsome. He was masculine in so many ways, from his build and physique to his mannerisms. He was the first to pull out a chair for a lady, the one who’d hold a door open for forty women to walk through before he stepped foot inside. A very old-school, charming gentleman, he was also soft in many spots, like his eyes and smile. His grin was so beautiful and made everyone feel safe when they looked his way.
His eyes kind of felt like home.
“It’s fine.” Mama smiled and lied. “We just sat down a few minutes ago.”
We’d been sitting for forty-five minutes.
Ray approached us and patted me on the top of my head. “Hey, Snow White.” He’d given me that nickname a long time ago when I was just a kid, and I loved it. I still loved it just as much at sixteen.
“Hey, Ray,” I replied.
He raised an eyebrow. “You have a good day?” Which was code for ‘Did your mother drive you insane today?’
Sometimes, even when she wasn’t trying to be, Mama could be a handful.
I nodded. “I had a good day.”
He wrinkled his nose, unsure if I was telling the truth, but he didn’t press for more information. He’d never ask what was wrong in front of Mama, because he knew how sensitive she got if she felt she was being judged. Ray kissed her forehead. “I’m gonna go wash up quickly and change outta these clothes. Then we can eat.”
“Okay,” Mama replied.
With that, he left to wash his hands. I sat leaning on the table, watching Mama’s eyes follow Ray as he disappeared down the hallway. When she turned back to me, the love she held in her stare faded, and she sat up straighter.
“Elbows off the table, Jasmine, and sit up straight or you’ll get a hunched back.”
Ray joined us at the table, and we chatted about how recording his album was going. “I love it here in New Orleans because there’s an authentic feel to the city. People around the world don’t make music the way they do down here. It’s not as real, as painful.”
When Ray talked about music, it made me want to only focus on that.
“Did you ever reach out to Trevor Su for me?” Mama asked, referring to a producer.
Ray cringed. “No. I told you this already, he’s not a good guy. We don’t need him for Jasmine’s career.”
Mama didn’t like that answer, based on the way her nose wrinkled. “Trevor Su is one of the top producers in the world, and you have an in with him. I don’t see why you would think Jasmine isn’t good enough to work with him.”
“No,” Ray barked, shaking his head. “Don’t twist my words. That’s not what I said at all. He’s not good enough for her.”
“And why not?”
“Because he’s a snake.”
Mama huffed. “Who cares if he’s a snake, as long as he gets the job done?”
Ray disagreed, “No. The way he uses people to climb the ladder is disgusting. I’ve watched him trample good people just for money. It’s disgusting.”
“It’s business, Ray,” Mama groaned. “And maybe if you understood that, you’d be more successful than you actually are.”
“Mama,” I gasped, shocked by her comment.
Ray didn’t even flinch. He’d become used to her harsh words. He was pretty much numb to her judgments.
That didn’t make it easier for me to hear them.
He and Mama were completely different when it came to the world of music. Ray led with his heart and Mama with her brain.
“It’s called networking,” she’d say.
“It’s called selling out,” he’d disagree. “Plus, he’s too much. He’d push her to her limits.”
“Her limits need to be pushed.”
“She’s just a kid, Heather.”
“And she could be extraordinary if you allowed it.”
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 a success.
Ray was the opposite. He believed in my music, but he also believed in me being a kid, too. Having a life outside of music.
“Maybe we should not talk about work at the dinner table,” Ray said, clearing his throat.
“Music is all we talk about,” Mama argued.
“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 to unplug.”
“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 too much?”
“Mama,” I whispered, shaking my head.
“Jasmine, hush and eat your salad.”
“Why are you only eating salad?” Ray questioned.
I parted my lips to reply, but Mama stepped in before I could. “She’s on a new diet.”
Ray laughed. “She’s sixteen and the size of a stick, Heather. She can eat whatever she wants.”
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 my father.
I hated how she threw that in his face whenever she didn’t get her way.
I always noticed how sad Ray’s eyes grew whenever she said those words.
Maybe on paper he wasn’t my father, but there was no doubt in my heart that he was my dad.
“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 him out.
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 felt like.
“You have a good day, Snow White?” Ray asked, standing in my doorway hours later with his arms behind his back.
I looked up from my math book and shrugged.
“You don’t have to lie—your mom’s sleeping. Was she hard on you?”
“It’s fine. It’s my fault, really. I started slacking.”
“She puts too much pressure on you,” he warned me.
“‘Pressure makes diamonds,’” I said, mocking Mama’s words. Then, I smiled because Ray was beginning to frown. “I’m okay. Just tired today.”
“You want me to try talking to her again?”
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 on me.
“Why just salad for dinner?” Ray asked.
“Not hungry.”
“That’s too bad.” He grimaced and pulled out a bag of takeout. “Because I just picked up a burger and fries from down the street.”
My stomach growled the moment I saw the bag.
“But since you’re not hungry, I’ll toss it—”
“No!” I shouted, shaking my head back and forth. I cleared my throat and sat up straighter on my bed. “I mean, I’ll take it.”
He laughed and tossed me the food. “You’re perfect the way you are. Don’t starve yourself for the dream, Snow White, and don’t starve yourself for your mother. Neither are worth it.”
“Thanks.”
He nodded. “And whenever you want me to talk to your mom, let me know. I got your back.”
“Ray?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you love her?” I asked, my voice low. The two of them never acted like they were in love. Not as far back as I could remember, at least. Maybe there was a time they were, but it wasn’t something that existed in my memories.
Ray gave me a tight smile. Which was a clear no.
“She’s mean to you,” I told him.
“I can handle it,” he replied.
“Why do you stay with her? Why would you stay with someone you don’t even love who treats you the way she does?”
He cleared his throat and stared at me with the gentlest eyes I’d ever seen. Then he shrugged his shoulders. “Come on, Snow,” he softly spoke. “You know the answer to that question.”
Because of me.
He stayed because of me.
“I love her because she gave me you. You may not be my blood, Snow White, but don’t for a second think that you are not my family. I stay for you. I’ll always stay for you.”
My eyes glassed over. “I just want you to be happy, Ray.”
He snickered. “You know what makes me happy?”
“What?”
“You being happy. So, just keep being happy—and eating—and my heart is full, Snow. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. Your happiness.” He walked over to me, kissed my forehead, and stole one of my fries before he headed to bed.
Ray might not have been my biological father, but there was no doubt in my mind that he was my dad.
Chapter Two
Jasmine
The happiest moments of my life were spent in a high school building. Most people would’ve been happy to miss out on going to school, but it was the first time in my life that I felt as if I were exactly where I was supposed to be.
Having a break from Mama was so nice, nicer than I’d ever imagined it would be. I loved her, but sometimes I needed a breather, and school gave me that space to breathe. When I walked the hallways, people made me feel included in something. I wasn’t surrounded by adults in the music industry, talking about grown-up things. I wasn’t auditioning for parts I didn’t want. I wasn’t making sure Mama was proud of me.
I was just a kid.
But it wasn’t always like that for others at school. I was one of the lucky ones. Others often fell victim to the likes of Todd Clause, the typical handsome senior who lived for applause.
“Jasmine, hey!” Todd called after me. He leaned up against a locker, wearing a white T-shirt with a gold chain necklace, and nodded me over. He was one of the most popular kids and half the time he was a complete jerk to anyone who wasn’t as striking as him.
Me though, he thought I was beautiful—or at least he thought the size of my chest and the fullness of my lips was beautiful.
Lucky me.
I flashed him a fake smile and kept walking. “Hey, Todd.”
He hurried over to me and placed his arm around my shoulders. “How are you? Where were you this weekend?”
“This weekend?”
He cocked an offended eyebrow. “I had a party at my place. You said you might stop by.”
“Oh…right.” I bit my bottom lip and wrapped my hands around my backpack straps. “Sorry. I was at an audition, and I had dance rehearsal.”
“Miss Hollywood,” he joked, slowly sliding his hand down my back.
“No, just me,” I replied, quickly sliding his hand up my back.
“Well, I’m having another party this weekend. My parents are always gone on weekends, so there’s always a Saturday party going on.”
“That’s cool,” I said, uninterested.
“You should definitely come. I live in the Garden District.”
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, uncertain what that meant exactly.
“It’s one of the richest areas in New Orleans. My family has a shit-ton of money. I only go to this crap school because I got kicked out of private school.”
“Oh, cool.”
“You can come to my house and see my horses. I’ll even let you ride me.” He laughed an arrogant laugh. “I mean ride them. I’ll let you ride a horse.”
I didn’t have the faintest idea how to reply to that, so I didn’t.
“Hey, Boney Bones,” Todd said, breaking away from me to push a guy in the hallway.
Elliott.
The unlucky one.
I noticed him a lot, or more so I noticed people bullying him a lot. He was a quiet guy and he mostly kept to himself. He was a skinny boy with beautiful caramel skin and hazel eyes. He never in the history of ever bothered anyone. He had braces, glasses, and nervous habits, like the shaky hands I always noticed.
He was the easiest target for Todd: timid, kind, and lonely.
I noticed the loneliness most, because I knew the distinct look. I’d been lonely my whole life, and Elliott’s stare mirrored my own.
How was it possible? How did a boy as nervous as Elliott create music the way he did?
Todd and a few other guys walked up and started pushing him around in such a mean-spirited way. Elliott cringed and kept his head down as he tried to get away.
“Todd, lay off,” I called after him. “Leave him alone.”
Todd glanced back and snickered. “I’ll leave him alone if you promise to come to my party.”
I groaned.
I hated the idea of that.
Todd shoved Elliott, this time pushing him into a metal locker.
I groaned again.
I hated that more than the idea of Todd’s party.
My fingers raced through my dark hair, and I bit my bottom lip before speaking. “What time’s the party?”
Chapter Three
Elliott
The worst moments of my life were spent in a high school. I couldn’t wait until that chapter of my life was over and done with. Waking up each morning knowing I had to go back there was the worst feeling in t
he world.
“Boney Bones, I see you decided to dress like shit again,” a kid called my way.
I didn’t know who it was, and I didn’t have any drive to look up to try to figure it out.
Keep your head down and try not to get noticed, I told myself every single day. Only five hundred and sixty-two days until graduation.
I hated school, and that was putting it mildly. If I’d had the choice, I would’ve never gone back, but Mom had this addiction to the idea of my sister and me getting our high school and college diplomas, because she hadn’t been able to get hers. She wanted us to be better than her, do more than her, succeed more in life.
I wasn’t really thinking that far ahead, though.
I was just trying not to get a wet willy on the way from math class to history.
“Hey, Elliott,” a person said from behind me.
I didn’t turn around, though, because if they weren’t calling me Boney Bones or Brace-face or Piece-Of-Shit-That-Should-Commit-Suicide, they weren’t talking to me.
“Elliott! Hey! I’m talking to you,” the voice called after me. It was a girl’s voice, and they definitely weren’t talking to me if it was a girl’s voice. “Hey!” A hand landed on my shoulder, making me halt my steps and cringe. I always cringed when someone touched me, because normally touches led to fists in my gut.
“Why are you cringing?” the voice asked as I slowly opened my eyes.
“So-sorry,” I whispered, almost certain she didn’t hear me.
“Why does everyone bully you?” the girl asked me—and it wasn’t just any girl, it was the girl. Jasmine Greene.
The prettiest girl I’d ever seen.
I raised an eyebrow at her, uncertain as to why she was talking to me. Jasmine was new and insta-popular. I wasn’t the type who ever received attention from the popular kids.
Well, that wasn’t completely true. I wasn’t the type who ever received positive attention from the popular kids.
“What?” I questioned, baffled that she was looking at me.
“I said, why does everyone bully you?”
My eyes darted back and forth, making sure her words had been spoken for me. “I, um, I-I-I—” I cleared my throat and my shoulders slouched. “I su-su-ffer from stuttering?”
Behind the Bars Page 2
