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“He bought one. The one I did of your mother. He bought it—for twenty thousand dollars. Oh, my God... Ian.”
He took her face in his hands, kissed her and kissed her. She was crying so hard with happiness she could barely kiss him back. His heart nearly burst with love and pride. This woman, this incredible woman with dozens of burn scars and old cuts all over her body from spending the last ten years of her life devoting her every single free hour to learning to weld and sculpt and create flower gardens of iron and copper and steel. Had any woman ever deserved success more than this one?
“You’re amazing,” he said. “I knew someone would see how good you were. I knew it. We have to celebrate. We have to celebrate like crazy. We need to call, like, everybody. You probably want to call your mom. And Mrs. Scheinberg. Bob Ross, are you freaking out, too?”
Bob Ross released a little wheezing cat snore. Flash laughed so hard she snorted again.
“Okay, forget Bob Ross. He’s a cat,” Ian said. “What does he know about art? No offense,” he said to Bob Ross, who was looking very offended at the moment. “Are you freaking out? I’m freaking out.”
“I’m freaking out.” She put her hands on her head and spiked her sweaty hair straight up.
“You look like you’ve been electrocuted.” Ian spiked his hair up in solidarity.
“I feel like it.”
He pulled her to him in a hug and rocked her while she cried in her happiness. He kissed her head, her neck, her cheek.
“You know what this means, right?” she asked.
“Yeah, it means you’re buying dinner. And it means you’re the real deal. I already knew that but I’m glad everyone else will know it now, too.”
“Well, all that. But this means I can move in with you,” she said. She wore the biggest smile he’d ever seen in his life. He was blinded by the joy and yet he couldn’t look away from it.
“Yeah, if you want. I mean, I want. I really want. But I won’t make you just because you sold a sculpture. I only want you to move in with me if you want to.”
“I want to.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. I’m absolutely sure,” she said. “I’ve never been more sure about anything.”
Flash kissed him again and Ian pushed her onto her back, deepening the kiss until they were both red-cheeked, breathless, wild.
“We have to celebrate,” he said. “We have to.”
“What do you suggest?”
“I’m going to do what I was doing before we were rudely inter
rupted by all of your dreams coming true.” Ian pushed her legs wide. “I’m going to eat your pussy.”
Bob Ross sat up like a shot and ran straight out of the room.
Ian called out after the terrified cat, “The other pussy!”
11
FLASH DRESSED FOR the Asher Christmas party and, at Mrs. Scheinberg’s request, let her neighbor do both her hair and her makeup.
“Easy on the lipstick,” Flash said as Mrs. Scheinberg applied the lip liner. “I usually don’t wear much.”
“You will tonight. Bright red. You’ll look glamorous. Even better, you’ll look like Christmas.”
“You don’t even celebrate Christmas,” Flash reminded her.
“Ah, but I do celebrate glamour. There. All done. Go look at yourself.”
Flash walked to the mirror on the back of Mrs. Scheinberg’s door and nodded her approval. She felt like Holly Golightly in Mrs. Scheinberg’s sleek red dress with the fitted square neck and her black elbow gloves and high heels.
