Page 27 of Crash and Burn
"What is it?" I asked.
"I can't talk about it yet," he said, practically buzzing in his seat. "But I think it's something you'll find interesting."
"Now I'm really curious," I said.
"You'll see soon enough," he said. "If Mason hires some new people, I'll finally be able to take some time off to work on it."
"Will you need an assistant again?" I asked.
"You're really that eager to know what it is?" Grant asked.
"If it's got you this excited, yes," I told him.
"Like I said, you'll find out soon enough," he replied cryptically. "What about you? What are you going to do with all that extra time off when we've got more staff?"
"I'm not cutting back on my hours," I told him. "I don't have a second job to fall back on. I need all the tips I can get." I leaned back heavily in my chair and poked at my food with the fork. "I don't know," I said listlessly. "Maybe I should do what my parents are telling me. Go and get an office job or something.”
"Is that what you want to do?" he asked.
Grant already knew exactly how I felt. He was only asking to get me to say the words out loud. Making me face the decision head on.
"I don't want an office job." I straightened up in my chair and threw my shoulders back. "I don't want to be an accountant or a paralegal or whatever. I don't want to work in some stuffy office filling out paperwork under fluorescent lights all day."
"That's what youdon'twant," Grant pointed out. "What do youactuallywant?"
"I don't know," I said truthfully. "You know how much I like working at Sin and Tonic."
"But does waiting on customers help fulfill your artist's soul?" A smile tugged at his lips as he repeated the words I'd once said to him.
"You really think I have an artist's soul?" I asked him.
"Look at all your designs," he said with a wave at my outfit. "What you're creating is just as good as what those models were wearing on the shoot today."
I remembered the older man who had complimented me. I wished I knew who he was. I hadn't had time to look up his name.
"I think you should do something that makes you happy," Grant continued. "And if that's working at the bar, that's fine. You're still young. You don't have to decide right now."
"I'm twenty-two," I pointed out. "You're only three years older than me and you've got life figured out."
"Working as a bartender and freelancing as a photographer doesn't have a lot of stability," he said. "I know some people who wouldn't think that's a good career move, either."
"Maybe we should both ignore what people think, and do whatever we want," I said.
The only problem was, I didn't know what I wanted.
"I'm glad you said Greek," Grant told me as we dug into the baklava. "Missy would never be able to eat something that's so focused on rice and potatoes."
My eyebrow twitched and my hand closed tight around my fork.
"It's all raw food for her, is it?" I asked, trying to keep my tone even and not tinged with annoyance.
"She's on a pretty strict diet," he replied. "I've been dying to carbo-load for weeks."
I paused.
He'd saidweeks.
"Is that how long you've been going out?" I asked casually.
