Page 55 of See Me

I feel her perusal and my resilience is already wavering. If I look at her, I know my walls will come crashing down, and I’ll spill my guts. I focus my attention on the menu,The Filthy Oars, which is chipped beef on toast,Flounder Pounder, a sampler of fried fish, and finallyFish-and-Chicks,fish and chicken tacos. “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Did you see these names? No way this isn’t hooker adjacent. I don’t even want to know whatThe Sea-Wordis. And half offTuna Town?”I drop the menu. “I don’t think I can eat here.”

She snickers. “Oh c’mon. It’s funny. Just a little word play.”

A black pickup truck parks outside the window, and we see a very angry Adam get out and slam the door.

“You would think he’d be a little more relaxed after a day ofwork.”

Cassie blows a breath out. “I don’t think he’s a hooker, Ella.”

“That’s what he wants you to think, and then he sits down and orders,” I pick up the menu, “The Salty Swallow, eww, and suddenly we’re guilty by association. Ladies of the night. Women of the streets, Roxanne, the red light special—”

“Ella, for fuck’s sake, relax. And you know a lot of hooker terminology.”

“Ashley gave me her kindle password,” I admit.

“That explains a lot. Listen, no one knows us here. We chat for a few minutes and blow out of town.”

“Mmhmm.” I nod over my menu. “Just like a hooker would.”

She puts her hands over her face. “Oh my god. Let me do all the talking, please.”

Adam pulls up a chair and sits at the end of our booth, instead of sliding in next to one of us.

Cassie smiles and turns toward him. “Thanks for meeting with me. And sorry about earlier.”

He nods without changing his facial expression from its scrunched state. “Five minutes.”

Cassie swallows and clears her throat. “Right. Like my last message stated, someone contacted me about one of your pieces.”

“It’s not for sale.”

“Which one?” I ask.

He turns his dark-rimmed eyes on me, and I shrink back, trying to melt into the booth. “Any of them.”

Cassie clears her throat and glares at me. She turns to Adam and smiles. “Can I ask why? You’re very talented. You can make some serious money.”

He taps his closed fist on the table. “I have a job.”

I mouthhookerto Cassie, and she kicks me under the table.

“Yes, of course. I’m sure you’re, umm, very good at it. I just mean, you wouldn’t have to keep…working. Unless you wanted to, of course. What I’m trying to say is, you could make enough money off one piece to support yourself for a year.”

Adam blinks several times and straightens in his chair. “Is this a joke?”

“No, not a joke. I have someone interested in a sculpture. The one of the little girl with the dandelion.”

He stares over our heads into the parking lot, leg bouncing under the table. “I can’t. Not that one.”

“It’s special?” Cassie asks as he picks up a napkin and starts tearing it up piece by piece. When he doesn’t say anything, Cassie continues. “Obviously art is an expression. A very personal expression. One that torments and heals simultaneously.”

Whoa, she’s good.

“Who was she?” Cassie asks softly.

He crumples what’s left of the shredded napkin and fists it in his trembling hand. “My sister.”

“Do you want to tell us about her?”

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