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"No." Liana frowned. "I have a car."
"Shame," Amaya mumbled. Liana hurried down the stairs that led to the front door.
"How long is she going to "help" us unpack?" Amaya asked in a whisper.
"As long as her conscience will allow."
Amaya scoffed. "You sure she has one of those?"
"Of course she does…." I paused, reconsidering. "Maybe."
"Jesus." Liana appeared at the top of the staircase, shaking her hands out like she'd seen something unspeakable.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I thought I heard a gunshot." The shiver that ran down her spine was very convincing. If she wasn't a scientist, I'd say she had a decent shot making a living on the stage.
I raised a brow. "I didn't hear anything—"
"I don't get why you can't stay with Mom." Liana sighed and looked annoyed, as if I was the one unable to let her finish a sentence. "It's safer. Nicer. You'd get to save whatever crap paycheck that comic store is giving you."
Quelling screams is an art form, one I've mastered.
"I don't work for a comic store, Liana – though that'd still be fun," I said. "Harpy's a company that produces comics. Plenty of their comics have won critical awards and are popular with mainstream audiences. The pay's good."
"Sure." She whipped out her phone, already tuning out my explanation. Amaya made a face behind her back, and I bit back a smile.
"Should we order dinner? No, let's go out. My treat," Liana decided before I could even think about responding. "A celebration for finally moving out on your own. That's something to celebrate, right?"
I wanted to decline. My night would be much more fun if I spent it unpacking with Amaya, listening to whatever drama podcast we agreed on. I could pull up my favorite comments on my comic and we'd recite them while pretending Sage was in the room sulking. Alas, turning down a free meal after I'd spent the majority of my money on my security deposit was silly. Even Amaya seemed in silent agreement, already licking her lips as Liana listed our options.
"You can come, too," Liana told her, and that seemed to seal the deal.
"Cool," Amaya said. I knew she was doing her best not to kick up her feet. Tonight, we'd planned on eating ramen and half a watermelon. Now, we'd dine on appetizers worth our water bill.
"Alright," I agreed while an already ready Amaya hurried past me to get her big purse, the one she'd use to cart back a box of leftovers.
“Give me a sec?” I asked Liana. “I need to grab a cardigan. Should be in one of these boxes.”
Liana gave our apartment one more look over, disgust making her nose wrinkle. “Alright, see you down there.”
“You sure you don’t want to wait?” I asked. “You know, because of the gunshot?”
“I’ll take my chances,” she said. “I can’t stand the shade of these white walls. They’re giving me a migraine.”
“If that’s the case, definitely hurry. I know how your migraines get.” I gestured toward the door, allowing myself to laugh when I heard it slam behind her. Tonight, not even my uptight sister could damper my wins. I was in the top five on Inkmic, for crying out loud. Next week, I was going to be on staff at the comic company of my dreams. No one could ruin this for me. I wouldn't let them.
I used my cardigan as a hand muff to hide my shaking when I walked through Harpy Comic's entrance. Tyson Wicker, my new editor, waited for me at the front door because it was locked, and I didn't have a key card yet.
"Noah," Tyson greeted in his deep, soothing voice. He was a large Black guy with a round belly, gold septum piercing, and kind, brown eyes. "It's great to see you again."
"You too." I offered my hand for a shake before he had time to let the front door go.
He chuckled, accepting the shake. "Excited?"
I nodded and smiled so wide, my cheeks ached. Tyson was an editor to artists who had gone on to have their work made into blockbuster movies and critically-acclaimed games. According to everyone I'd spoken to before taking Harpy's job offer, he was one-part editor and one-part mentor. Tyson was known for taking lackluster comics to new heights and no-name artists to the top. Guidance like his was exactly what I've needed.
I wanted to forever be done with low-paying freelance gigs. I needed to stop fighting for my art to be seen in a sea of content online. Every cell in my body pushed me to create, but there was little to no fun in creation when I was the only one enjoying it. Plus, not being able to afford healthcare was a mood killer.
