Kenny was right, because she didn’t know much about him other than he was an above-average student. She knew he lived with his mother, and it was his uncle rather than his father who’d come to the graduation ceremony.
She listened intently when Kenny revealed his father had died before he was born, and he’d been raised by his widowed mother. He’d grown up half a block from Central Park West before moving into public housing four years ago once his old neighborhood was slated for urban renewal. While in high school, he worked weekends at his uncle’s restaurant as a cook and server, and had promised to work there every other weekend while in college.
“My mom and I will be going to the same college this fall. She married right out of high school and got pregnant right away, so she had to put off going to college until now.”
Larissa laughed. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Mom will take night classes, while I’ll go during the day.”
“That is so cute.” She picked up her fork and continuedeating. “It appears as if you and your mother have a very good relationship.”
“We do. My mother is the best.”
“Your mother was widowed very young. Didn’t she want to marry again?”
“I asked her the same thing, and she said no.”
“But your mother is so pretty, and men would be attracted to her.”
Kenny agreed with Larissa. Men were attracted to his mother. And he was certain she would’ve accepted their advances if it hadn’t been for Francis D’Allesandro. The man he called Uncle Dee had become an integral part of Justine Russell’s life, and he suspected she was in denial about being in love with him. It was only after he’d graduated high school that his mother and Frank had resumed their friendship, where they were not only dating each other, but planning trips away together.
“My mother claims she’s living her best life right now, and marriage doesn’t factor into it.”
“Good for her. I’m just waiting for the time when I can do whatever I want without having to answer to someone.”
Kenny frowned. “You don’t realize how lucky you are, Larissa. Your parents are sending you to a private university where they can write a check to cover all of your expenses for the next four years. Even after you graduate and have the career you want, you’ll still have to answer to someone. The alternative is going into business for yourself.”
“I’m definitely not going to take over my dad’s business, because I’m planning on a career in politics.” Larissa swallowed a mouthful of fried rice. “What had you planned to do if I hadn’t come here?” she asked.
Kenny slowly shook his head. Larissa didn’t want to work for her father, yet she’d talked about him working in one of his dealerships because she believed it was better than workingin a restaurant’s kitchen. It was obvious the girl was confused.
“I was going to listen to music.”
“On the radio?”
“No. I’m developing a rather extensive record collection.”
Larissa’s eyes grew wide. “Can I see what you have?”
“Sure.”
After he and Larissa finished eating, Kenny stored the cartons filled with leftovers in the refrigerator and washed the dishes and glasses, leaving them on a rack to air dry. Then he led Larissa into the living room to show her his record collection.
Sitting on the living room’s area rug, Kenny took albums out of a wicker basket he’d stacked alphabetically, watching for Larissa’s reaction to his taste in music. “I’ve just begun collecting jazz,” he said after a comfortable silence.
Larissa shook her head. “I don’t know what it is, but I can’t get into jazz. All that improvising goes over my head.”
Kenny stared at Larissa’s delicate profile as she read the backs of the album covers. He liked her and would’ve liked her better if she hadn’t been so aggressive. He preferred doing the chasing rather than the reverse.
“It has taken me a while to come to appreciate it.”
Larissa picked up a 45, smiling. “This is more my taste. I love Motown.” She handed him a record. “Can you please play this?”
Kenny took the record, got up, and removed the cover to the turntable. It was “My Girl,” by the Temptations. Securing the plastic yellow adapter, he placed the record on the spindle.
“Don’t turn it on yet,” Larissa said, pushing to her feet. “I have to get something.”
“What?”
