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“Not to mention,” Rex adds, turning back to the headmistress. “Delgado is a name part of Leo’s heritage and I personally believe that’s worth holding onto this day and age.”
And there goes my other ovary.
“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Redford.”
We all take our seats in the sitting area of Headmistress Rockwell’s office, Rex and I on the couch, the headmistress in a wingback chair.
The headmistress puts on a pair of tiny, wire-framed glasses and pulls out a notepad.
And thus begins the interview.
“So, Dr. Delgado. You’re a doctor of –”
“I’m an emergency room doctor,” I say softer than I mean to.
The headmistress hums. “That must be difficult.”
I shrug. “I’m used to it.”
“Don’t be so modest, Isabella,” Rex says, taking my left hand in his right, stroking his thumb across the rings.
Okay, now he’s laying it on a little thick.
“And what about you, Mr. Redford?”
I smile at Rex thinking, See? She isn’t a fan.
“Um, well, I’m a musician actually.”
“A musician! What kind? Classical.”
Rex half-laughs, glances my way for some help.
Nope. All you, buddy.
“Rock music, actually.”
Headmistress Rockwell’s head bounces backward, her lips pursed like she’s just taken a full bite of a lemon. “Rock music?”
“Rex is actually very successful in the music industry.”
“I see…” The headmistress jots something down on her notepad.
Rex squeezes my hand harder. I needed that. My nerves are all jangled.
“Anyone I would know?” she asks, still jotting something down.
Clearing his throat, Rex strains to keep his composure. “Black Flame?”
The headmistress shoots up straight, whipping off her tiny glasses. “Black Flame?!”
“Yes,” he says.
This could be bad. His whole life for the past five years is public record. All it would take is a Google search for the headmistress to find articles upon articles about all his bad behavior.
Not to mention past lovers.
How will we explain that away?
