Page 55 of The Big Easy & Other Lies
Huh? “Yes...”
“That dress at the end was freaking amazing. You should think about showing that one instead.”
I had no response, mainly because I was stunned by how carefully he’d been paying attention to the sketchbook.
“Cam?” He sounded anxious. “Am I out of line? Sorry. I just think people would really like to see it.”
“It’s okay,” I said. “It’s cool you liked it that much.”
“I did. A lot.” Silence fell. He cleared his throat. “Do you have to work tonight?”
“Yeah,” I said. “House party with the richie-riches.” I wanted to snatch back the words as soon as I said them. Rhett belonged to that category.
“Remember, if you can’t beat them, lick them. The appetizers,” he said.
“I promise that was a one-time thing,” I said.
“Sure.” His tone was teasing.
“You’re right. It’s a bad idea for guests to ever touch the food if I’m on shift,” I said. “It’s nothing but licking.” And then embarrassed by how suggestive that sounded, I added, “And spitting. And planting hairs in soups. Gotta keep it interesting.”
“It’s all protein, I guess.” He paused, and I searched for something to say. Several awkward seconds ticked by, and he cleared his throat again. “So you’re probably working pretty late?”
“Until ten,” I said. “Maybe later. I kind of hope so. More cash is good.”
“Right,” he said. “What about tomorrow? Are Sundays busy for you?”
Happiness crept in to displace the despair I’d been carrying. He wanted to spend time with me. He was working at it, even.
“Tomorrow is,” I said. “We’re catering a fundraiser brunch at Sisters of Charity.”
“If you’re trying to blow me off, I’m going to feel like a creeper, but I’m choosing to believe you’re super busy.”
“I swear I am!” I mashed the words together in a rush to reassure him. “My schedule really is this crazy.”
“Okay, then here goes attempt...seventeen? I’m losing track. What about tomorrow afternoon?”
I winced. I didn’t have to work, but I had pushed Delphine too far. She would flip if I left, and she was ticked enough now that I could see her doing something totally irrational, like making good on her threat to kick me out. Even if she regretted it when she calmed down, her pride would never let her back off from something like that. Then it wouldn’t matter whether I called the health department or not because I’d still be out of a place to live. I couldn’t provoke her by hanging out with Rhett.
“Tomorrow afternoon won’t work,” I said.
Another awkward silence fell. This time he didn’t clear his throat and try to fill it.
My turn, then. “I wish it would,” I said and didn’t try to hide my regret.
He sighed. “I guess I’ll see you on Monday then.”
“Definitely. I’ll buy you lunch. I’m making grips of cash this weekend,” I joked.
“Sure. Lunch sounds good.”
We exchanged goodbyes, and I stayed on the phone, listening until I heard absolute silence. I set the phone back down in my lap. I felt bad for not explaining more about tomorrow and my jailer, Delphine. But a smile broke loose anyway.
Rhett called. He wanted to see me again.
A fountain of giddiness propelled me up, and I snatched the oversized striped shirt from my pile on the way up, dancing an uncoordinated jig with it. A jar of old buttons sat atop the Kellog’s box and I shook it like a maraca, delighted with the rattle and clink they made in the jar—until the lid flew off and they scattered over the floor in a wild arc.
With a sigh, I knelt and scooped up a few. Most of them were beige and plastic, but a larger one in the middle glowed with mother-of-pearl. I plucked it like a shell from sand. Iridescent green and pink flashed in the light, the colors untouched by time even though the button probably dated to the seventies. Very cool. Within minutes I’d also retrieved nearly a dozen peacock blue buttons and a pair of large, etched bone-colored ones.
