Page 39 of Passion’s Song

“Our projections have a one-bedroom starting at fifteen hundred a month.”

Her head fell back. She looked up at the gilded filigree decorating the ceiling as she husked out a tired, humorless laugh.

“Fifteen hundred dollars?” April asked, looking at him again. “That’s more than some people make in a month. Who do you think will be able to afford to live there? Certainly not many current Ninth Ward residents.”

“This is a good thing, April,” he said. “It’s going to bring in new businesses and a new crop of residents.”

“It’s going to bring in a bunch of high-end specialty shops that no one can afford. Why not help the farmer’s market and community garden that just started up? Do you know what their mission is? To provide fresh, affordable healthy foods to people in the neighborhood.”

“You don’t have the entire picture,” he said.

“No, you’re the one who doesn’t have the entire picture. You don’t have any of the picture, because you haven’t been around in years,” she accused. “Honestly, Damien, when was the last time you spent more than an hour in the old neighborhood? Not counting the class at A Fresh Start,” she tacked on.

He remained silent. That tick in his jaw became even more pronounced.

“It’s been so long that you can’t even remember, can you?” she asked. “Yet you claim that you’re helping the neighborhood. You can’t even bring yourself to spend more than a few hours there.”

“You’re one to talk.”

April’s head jerked back in shock. “Excuse me?”

“If you’re this big crusader for the Ninth Ward, why did you buy a house in Bywater when you moved back to New Orleans?”

“What does that have to do with anything? I’m there every day helping to make the neighborhood a better place. Where I live is irrelevant. And how dare you try to make this about me,” April said. She poked him in the chest. “This is about you, and how you’re trying to destroy your own neighborhood.”

“Stop calling it that. It is not my neighborhood,” he hissed.

His words smacked her in the face.

Damien ran a hand across his brow and blew out an annoyed sigh. “That didn’t come out the way I intended,” he said.

“But it’s what you meant, isn’t it?”

He stared at her for several long moments before he said in a solemn voice, “I haven’t lived there in well over a decade, April.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. You’ve been so far removed from it for so long that you don’t feel any connection. You need to actually spend some time there, Damien.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do,” she said. “I know it’s been hard since Kurt’s—”

He cut her off. “Don’t go there.”

April swallowed back the rebuttal that nearly escaped her lips. She knew his issues when it came to what happened to Kurt, knew that his brother’s incident still weighed heavily on his mind. But she would not allow his demons to destroy her beloved Ninth Ward. Even if it wasn’t her actual home anymore, it was still close to her heart. She would not allow Damien to bulldoze his way in there and change it.

She took him by the hands and walked farther down the hallway, to a seating area underneath the large arching skylight. She sat next to him on the tufted couch and took his hands into her lap.

“Why don’t you let me show you around the Ninth Ward?” April asked.

She felt him stiffen. “I grew up there. I don’t need a tour.”

“Apparently, you do, because you don’t realize just how much it has changed since those days when you grew up there. Or since Kurt was shot,” she added.

His eyes flew to hers. That nerve in his jaw ticked at a manic pace, but he remained silent.

“There is so much good going on,” April continued. “So much good being done. Maybe once you see how hard the people there are working to rebuild the neighborhood, you’ll understand why the thought of you bringing in this new, expensive complex is such a horrible idea.”

“That’s your way of convincing me to join you on a tour? Calling my idea horrible?”