Passion's Song. Farrah RochonЧитать онлайн книгу.
eyes, he said, “I need you to be my girlfriend.”
April’s mouth dropped opened.
Seconds stretched between them as she continued to stare at him, her expression unreadable.
“Let me explain,” Damien said.
“Uh, yes,” she said. “Maybe you should.”
But before Damien could elaborate, there was a huge crash on the other side of the room. He and April both jumped. He looked over his shoulder and spotted one of the small round café tables on its side. Two girls were going at it, arms and thick hair braids swinging.
A group of kids swarmed the girls, egging them on, yelling, “Fight! Fight!”
Damien jumped up from his seat, but before he could break up the fight, April was already there. She stepped in between the two girls, her arms splayed wide, her chest heaving with the deep breaths she pulled in.
“Break it up! Break. It. Up,” April said.
The girl with the deep purple hair braids took another swing, nearly clipping April’s face.
Damien took an automatic step toward them, but April held him back with a hand.
“I’ve got this,” she said. She pointed at the crowd of kids still surrounding them. “The rest of you, get back to wherever you’re supposed to be right now. If it’s the café, find somewhere else to be until I say you can return.”
She turned to the girls who had been fighting. Bracing both hands on her hips, April blasted them with a glare that made Damien want to take a step back.
“What’s going on here?” she asked.
Silence followed.
The glare intensified. “Someone had better start talking. You’re only making it worse on yourselves.”
Still, silence ensued.
Damien noticed the first chink in her armor as she looked at the girls, who now both stood with their heads bowed, staring at the floor. April’s crestfallen expression showed him how hard this was for her.
“Dammit, Cressida and Makayla,” April said. “You both know there is a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to fighting.”
“You’re going to kick us out?” the girl with normal-colored hair asked.
“Do you understand what zero tolerance means?” April asked her. “It means that if you do not abide by the rules, you do not get to stay. End of story.”
“But, Ms. April,” the girl started, but April stopped her. She put her hand up.
“It’s not my call. Ms. LaDonna will make all decisions. Go to her office and explain what this fight was about. She will decide whether or not you both deserve to stay.”
Their heads hanging, the girls lumbered away as if part of a funeral procession.
A round of applause broke out around the room from the patrons who occupied the other tables.
April released a weary laugh and bowed, accepting their praise.
“I’m sorry for the interruption,” she said in a voice that carried around the room.
She turned to Damien. She looked as if she’d just gone ten rounds with a heavyweight fighter, though he sensed that her exhaustion had more to do with those girls potentially getting kicked out of the program than the physical exertion of breaking up the fight.
“How often are you required to play referee?” Damien asked.
“Thankfully, not that often,” she said. “This is only the second fight this year. It’s a part of my job that I’m not all that fond of, but it has to be done.”
“You do it well,” Damien said. “Of course, you had practice. So maybe I should take some credit after all.”
“Oh, believe me, I remember,” April said with a laugh.
She’d been witness to many of the skirmishes Damien had found himself in while growing up in these streets. She’d never gotten in the middle of them the way she had today, but afterward, while she helped clean whatever scrapes he’d amassed during the fight, she would let him know how disappointed she was in him. It was the knowledge that he disappointed her that eventually quelled Damien’s desire to engage in that kind of behavior.
April Knight made him want to be a better person. She always had.
“Will those girls really be kicked out of the program?” Damien asked as they returned to their table.
She nodded. “For the rest of the summer. They can apply to gain entrance next summer.”
“So A Fresh Start actually adheres to its zero-tolerance policy, huh?”
“It wasn’t always that way,” April said with a laugh. “Let’s just say that I’m not the only sucker for puppy-dog eyes and apologies around here. We have a staff full of bleeding hearts, but once we noticed that the amount of infractions was increasing instead of decreasing, we finally put our collective feet down.
“We’ve discovered that a strictly enforced zero-tolerance policy is a lot more effective than paying lip service. And the more activities we add to the program, the more it makes kids want to stick to the rules so they can continue to participate.”
April folded her hands one on top of the other, and said, “So, exactly what were you saying before we were interrupted?”
Damien nodded. “As I mentioned before, Alexander Properties now owns a large square of real estate in the Lower Ninth Ward, but in order to develop it I’ll need investors. There are several social events happening over the summer that will put me in the same space with some of the New Orleans area’s most prominent business owners. The key word in all of that is social.”
“Okay,” April said, dragging the word out. “And I fit in where?”
“I don’t want to show up stag at any of these events, but I also don’t want to deal with any messy relationship crap. This top ten bachelor thing will just make it worse. My focus has to be on business, not on worrying about whether or not my date is entertained.”
April sat back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest.
“Is this the sales pitch you prepared? Because if so, you suck at this selling thing. I’m surprised your business is as successful as it is.”
Damien put both hands up. “Okay, so maybe that didn’t come out exactly the way I thought it would.”
“Let me see if I understand,” April said. “You basically want me to be a warm body in a pretty dress who can fend off other women so that you can concentrate on business.”
Damien’s shoulders lifted in a hapless shrug. “Basically, yeah.”
She caught the lone sugar packet on the table and flipped it between her fingers. “Why me?” April asked. “If there is one area where you are not lacking, it’s the old girlfriend department. At least one of those relationships had to have ended amicably enough for you to call in a favor.”
“If I asked any of my old girlfriends, they would take it the wrong way, probably thinking that I wanted a reconciliation or something.” He looked over at her, hoping to infuse as much pleading into his expression as possible. “Please, April. I promise not to take up too much of your time. We’re talking three to four events, tops. Maybe five if I’m able to score tickets to the charity auction for the Children’s Hospital.”
“You don’t expect me to answer right away, do you?”
Actually, he had. Kinda.
“No,” Damien said, shaking his head. “I