Rebel at Spruce High (Spruce Texas Romance #5) - Daryl Banner Page 0,119

stethoscope and blood running down his front, asks me how Toby and I are doing, why we didn’t audition for the winter show, and then whether we plan to do anything else in the spring, because he might be directing the final play of the school year (as their “star senior”), and he totally has a part in mind for either of us. Tamika, who wears both angel wings and a pair of devil horns, insists that we come to support the winter show even if we’re not in it—especially me—because I’m now part of their big theatre family, and there will always be a seat with my name on it.

The punch runs right through me. I lean into Toby and ask where a bathroom is, and he points me upstairs. After handing off his leash to Frankie, who gives Toby a suggestive look and laughs, I cut across the crowded room (and bump into no less than three different Frankenstein’s monsters on the way) and make my way upstairs. I head down a short hall, the noise of the party fading behind me. Upon reaching the bathroom door, I find it occupied. Resigned to waiting, I lean against the wall nearby, fold my arms over my armored chest, and stare ahead at a picture on the wall. It appears to be one of Mr. and Mrs. Strong, with a high-school-aged Tanner crouched in front of them next to a ten-year-old boy I can only presume is a prepubescent Jimmy. Seeing the family portrait gives me a jumble of mixed feelings I’m not sure what to do with.

That’s when I hear the voices. “It’s horse shit! Horse shit, Paul!”

“It’s fine, honey,” comes a soft voice I assume is Paul, soothing the woman. “We knew there would be bumps. We knew it would not be a fair fight. But look at it this way: We’re making Raymond fight. How many years has he gone unopposed? Nadine, honey, it’s just an article written by some paid-off intern.”

“Well, I sure ain’t gonna stoop to his level and write no dang article about how he spends more of his time frequenting porno shops on the outskirts of Fairview than he does managing his own town. Don’t ask me how I know, I just do.”

“You hear it all, huh?” teases Paul. I hear the smack of lips.

After a sigh, Nadine goes on. “Maybe it’s a lost cause. Maybe I really do make a better councilperson. But is it so much to want to make our town shine brighter than it already does? Our mayor sits around eatin’ cinnamon rolls all day while our beautiful parks get overrun by weeds, while buildings crumble at their foundations, while Fairview gloats every time they build a megaplex-somethin’-er-other. How much more can you take, Paul? I sure can’t!”

“He knows you throw a big Halloween bash every year. And he was countin’ on you reading this article today and breaking your spirit. But your spirit can’t be broken. And why can’t it be?”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘cause I’m a Strong, yadda-yadda. Why you gotta make everything so corny?” she teases him. A breath of laughter is shared. “Oh, I’d better clean up my face now. The costume contest is supposed to be goin’ on soon, isn’t it? What time is it?”

The door across the hall opens, and out walk the two people whose conversation I just heard every word of. Mr. Paul Strong is an older, less muscular version of his son Tanner, with a full head of grayish-brown hair and glasses, and he appears to be in normal clothes. Mrs. Strong is a petite woman in every aspect of the word—except for her boobs, which nearly spill out of the tight corset she’s wearing as part of her costume. Between her whacky hair and lavish eye makeup, I’d suspect she’s some kind of sexualized medieval bar wench. Upon seeing me, Mrs. Strong gives a look of shock, which quickly turns into suspicion. “There’s a bathroom downstairs, too,” she says before even a greeting. “Just under the stairs, a half-bath.”

I get the sense suddenly that I’m not welcome here. “Sorry. I, uh …” I try to stuff my hands into my pockets, then realize I don’t have any. “I didn’t mean to overhear anything. Toby sent me up here to use the …” I’m uncharacteristically on edge. “I’m Vann,” I finally blurt out. “Toby’s boyfriend.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” She purses her lips as she drags her eyes down me, taking