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I fidget then freeze as a thought hits me. A spreadsheet with some initials is no guarantee. It might ruin me instead, just like the other tasks and my stolen money. What if I get taken down as the scapegoat again?
“How does it look?” I ask.
Justin frowns at the picture in his hands and then holds it up for me to see. I’m stunned. It actually looks like me, and he only used a few lines to render my face. It’s a beautiful drawing, but I look lost.
“Can I keep it?” I whisper
He nods.
“Are you going to help me?” I ask.
Justin stands motionless, staring at the sketch in my hands. Justin isn’t convinced, and with his future careening off the tracks, there’s not a whole lot he cares about except his art.
“What if I pose for you?” I suggest.
He tilts his head, taking an interest.
“But no touching,” I state firmly, “and we have a chaperone.”
He slips the drawing into my hand. “I’ll do my best to help you. I owe you an apology. But first, I want you to let me draw you again.” He picks up his pad again. “I want to capture your expression exactly how you look now.” He tilts his head. “Half wrath and half desperation.”
