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“You made that up.”
“What does Deacon think?”
“I haven’t told him yet.” I’m wondering if I will tell him at all. Hell, I’m not even sure we’ll make it past the first week. “It’s not a deal with the devil. It’s a really neat opportunity. And who knows, maybe she’ll get to know me, and we’ll get to be friends… It’ll be like that other song.”
“Which one?”
“The one about love building a bridge.”
“More like somewhere over the rainbow.” She shovels another handful into her mouth. “That’s what happens when you go to church.”
“I went to church to get away from Beto.” I cross my arms, looking around her one-bedroom apartment. “I’ve got to get out of his house, Lor.”
She crosses her legs under her. “Well, you’ve got a big job dropped right in your lap. Time to start s
earching Zillow.”
“Yes.” I step forward, pointing my finger. “I’ll do the portrait, and then if I get the Arthaus award, I’ll have another twenty grand—”
“What a life. You go from one high paying gig to another. Next you’ll be jet setting to Barcelona, painting portraits of the queen…” Her voice is dreamy, but I’m right there with the bucket of ice water.
“Most fine artists are starving.”
She leans back frowning. “So why do it? With your talents, see if you can find a job with a little more stability.”
“I could work in design or marketing.” If the very idea didn’t give me a full-body shudder.
She squints her eye at me. “I saw that. You’d hate a job like that.”
“Hate is a strong word.” My smile is a little sad. “I should try to be interested in something more stable. It would make my life easier.”
Sitting forward, she puts the bowl on her coffee table. “Many people work jobs they don’t care about during the day to support doing the job they love after hours. Do that!”
Dropping onto the couch beside her, I rest my head on her shoulder. “It’s basically what I’m doing now, isn’t it?” My head pops up. “Oh, I stopped by to ask if Juliana can take over my shifts at La Frida Java. Indefinitely.”
“You did not let him railroad you out of your job. Fuck that ‘my sister is not a waitress’ bullshit.” She imitates Beto in a low, nasal-ey voice like the Godfather.
“No.” I exhale a laugh. “If I’m going to work on this portrait at Aunt Winnie’s house, I’ll have to work during the day, starting in the morning.”
“If it makes you feel better, Juliana will be really grateful for the work.”
“Silver lining?” I stand, picking up my portfolio. “I guess I should go home now.”
“Listen to me.” Lourdes puts both hands on my shoulders. “Beto’s house is nice, but my couch is open if you ever need it.”
“You’re the best friend ever.” I lean forward and kiss her cheek. “I’m okay for now, but if he’s serious about keeping me and Deacon apart…”
Lourdes nods. “I’m here for you.”
I give her a squeeze before heading out the door. “Love you, bitch.”
“Show that racist bitch who’s the real bad bitch.”
Shaking my head, I groan. “I’ve never been that bitch. I’ll just keep my head down and paint.”
“That’s my girl. Paint a bridge.”
“Over the rainbow.”
