No Strings

“Shouldn’t you be in school?”

“Yeah, so?” He smirks, and the way his hazel eyes catch with mine, I have no doubt that one day, when he’s older, much older, he’ll be a heartbreaker, but right now, he’s just a teenage wannabe bad boy. I grew up with dozens of them in foster care.

“Like smoking, dropping out of school isn’t a turn-on either. Women like men who are educated, so you might want to get your butt back in school and get an education… That’s if you ever want to meet a woman.”

He scoffs. “Doubtful. My dad has women falling all over him, and he dropped out of college.”

Little shit…

Before I can think of a comeback, he points behind him at the building. “Do you live there?”

“Yeah, I just moved in. I’m new to New York.”

“I live there too. Just moved in, but I’ve lived in New York my entire life.” Like a gentleman, he extends his hand. “I’m Brody.”

“Savy.” I shake his hand. “Do you still have time to get to school?”

“Nah, school gets out soon. It’s a half-day. My dad’s totally going to kill me for skipping.” He says it like it’s a fact—one he’s not at all worried about, reminding me of the foster kids I’d lived with growing up, who’d do things like skip school to get a rise out of the people taking care of them. I don’t know this kid, but based on his comments, the smoking, and the truancy, I’d bet he’s seeking attention.

“Well, I need to find somewhere to eat. How about you show me somewhere good, and I’ll buy you your last meal?” I wink playfully, making him chuckle.

“I know just the place.”

We end up a few blocks down at a little hole-in-the-wall deli that, according to Brody, serves the best sandwiches. Brody tells me how he’s recently moved in with his dad and was supposed to start school today.

“So, what happened?”

Brody shrugs, averting his gaze.

“You get scared?”

“Pfft,” he huffs. “I’m a man. We don’t get scared.”

I raise a brow. “Even men get scared.”

He sighs and takes a bite of his sandwich. When he’s done chewing, he swallows it down with a gulp of his lemonade and is about to speak when his cell phone rings.

“Shit, it’s my dad.”

“Shoot,” I correct, feeling a bit of sympathy for his dad. “And you better answer it. He’s probably worried sick.” I know I would be if my son were wandering around the streets of this vast city on his own.

Brody rolls his eyes as he hits answer. “Hello?”

I can’t hear what his dad is saying, but I can hear him yelling.

Brody huffs, then says, “Whatever… I’m sorry.” His tone doesn’t match the last two words. He’s not sorry. His eyes meet mine as he tells his dad where he’s at. “Fine… I’ll be back soon.” He hangs up and groans. “I forgot he was meeting with my guidance counselor today to go over my credit-retrieval schedule. He’s at my school now.”

“And you’re not.”

He nods.

“What’s credit retrieval?” I ask curiously before taking another bite of my delicious sandwich.

“I failed a few classes last semester, so I have to take them online to get credit.”

“What are you, a freshman?”

“Yeah.” He shoves the final bite of his food into his mouth, chews, then swallows, sucking down his drink to wash it down.

“That’s a bad way to start high school. You planning to go to college?”

“Nah, I’m going to work for my dad. He has the best job there is.” His eyes light up, making it clear, despite his act of rebellion, that he loves his dad very much.

“What does he do?”

“He owns a bunch of nightclubs. His job is literally to party.”

I cough out a laugh. “I think there’s more than that to owning nightclubs. I doubt he makes money by partying.”

Brody shrugs. “I don’t know.” His phone rings, and he curses under his breath. “It’s my dad again.”

“You should probably get going.”

“Or we could have cake for dessert. This place makes the best éclair cake. It is my last meal after all.”

“Nice try.” I reach over and tousle his hair. “You made your choice, and now you have to face the consequences.”

Chapter Three

Benjamin

My alarm goes off, and I groan, exhausted. Yesterday felt like the never-ending day from hell. After a shitty meeting, where I learned we’ve hit some red tape on acquiring the permits to get started with Artfully Delicious, I headed to Brody’s school to meet with the counselor. When I got there and learned he wasn’t there, I nearly lost my shit. Apparently, my damn kid thought school was optional.

After a long talk about our roles and responsibilities—where I did all the talking, and he grunted and rolled his eyes—I took his phone away. He stormed out pissed and stayed in his room for the remainder of the day, refusing to come out for dinner. Hopefully, today goes a bit smoother.