I watch with fascination as she chews, cheeks full, a small spot of raspberry juice on one lip.
“If it weren’t for him, I’d still be an indie darling,” David grins at me, popping a raspberry in his mouth. He extends the bowl to me, but I shake my head.
“Really?” Penelope grins. A tiny spot of pink appears at the corner of her mouth. “So you are a big fan of the franchise?”
I stand still. Her eyes stay on me.
“I mean, why else would you tell your client to commit ten years of his life to a project?” She looks at me again, her eyes slightly larger around the edges.
“It was the fiscally prudent move,” I respond, enunciating each word, looking back at her.
“A decade of someone’s life, all in the name of fiscal prudence,” she smiles again, but its sharper this time, her arms drawing back, hands resting on hips. “What fantastic advice.”
“He used to take the bus. In L.A. And now he’s got a net worth of 70 million dollars,” I stare back. “So, yeah. It was pretty fucking fantastic advice.”
I can feel David’s eyes on me, looking between the two of us, but I keep my gaze on Penelope.
“Well,” she turns back to David, patting him on the arm. “Here’s your set, honey. Pay me whenever.” She bends down and picks up the box of worn-out cardboard. “And, uh,” she glances back at me, “I hope this coming decade is a little more…fulfilling.” She smiles at David, nods at me. “Nice to meet you, Angie,” she says, and saunters from the room, bare feet silent on his floors.
I wait for the door to close, the sound of her feet on gravel in the driveway, before I turn to David.
“Jesus Christ, dude. Why do you let people like that in your house?”
He smiles, eyes twinkling in the way that has made both of us millions of dollars. “Pen’s very cool, actually. So creative. She’s a true artist.”
“Yeah,” I pick up pottery David and Jane, bonking them together, “I can see that.”
“Don’t break them,” David reaches for the figurines (Bowls? cups? Seriously what the hell are these?) and puts them on the table.
“I know true artists, David. They’re broke. They’re gross. They can’t pay their water bill. Don’t hang out with them.”
“Everything she makes is one of a kind.”
“Because no one would order from her twice.” I glance again at the pot, Charlene for Christ’s sake, and the half-formed handle.
Art.
I take a step back from the counter, staring at the Chernobyl set in its entirety. “Jesus, I have seen people buy some dumb shit on impulse, and I get that you want to impress your girlfriend’s friends, but of all the ugly shit to spend your money on, you had to pick this?” I hold a mug in one hand.
“Um…”
Fuck. She’s back.
I see Penelope out of the side of my eye. She smiles at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
David looks down, and turns to her. “Oh, Pen, I-”
“Don’t worry.” She turns to me, “We all have different tastes.”
Words are stuck in my throat. I want to apologize. It is an utterly foreign sensation. I haven’t apologized in years. The world bows down to me, not the other way around. I’ve spent my life making sure that was the case.
I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to start apologizing now, even if I do feel kind of bad. The poor woman. She doesn’t even wear shoes. She makes these hideous things, and names them, like a lunatic.
That’s no way to live.
“For example, rude assholes aren’t to my taste,” she smiles in my direction, that charming, megawatt glow, “but I know they’re popular elsewhere.”
David swallows a laugh.
Well. I don’t feel so bad about not apologizing.
“I just forgot to mention that we’re all getting together tonight at my house. I don’t know if Jane told you or not, but you’re always welcome.” She smiles at David. He nods back.
I stand, irritated again, borderline pissed off that she’s ignoring me, despite the logic of knowing she has every reason to ignore me.
She looks towards me, takes a deep breath, and offers another smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but it’s clear she’s trying.
“Angelo, of course you’re welcome too.” She pats David on the shoulder and nods towards me. “Let me know if you’re coming. I’ll get another few lobsters from Rich and Sarah.”
This time, I keep my mouth shut until I hear the car engine, the tires on the gravel, and the sound of her driving down the driveway and away, out of ear’s range.
The ugly pottery stares up at me from the counter. Shaming me with its misshapen, judgmental gaze.
“Still relying on that charm to get through life, eh man?” David grins at me.
Also by Anna:
Around Midnight Series
Jane Air
Pride and Penelope (Available for Pre-Order!)
The Great Kate S. Bee (coming soon!)
Midnight, Maine
More romance from the town of Midnight is on its way!
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About the Author
Anna Wellschlager is the pen name of a friendly nerd who enjoys love, laughter, and friendship. She hopes to bring more of each of these things into the world through her writing. She lives in Maine, and spends her days match-making strangers in her head.
The best way for writers to continue writing is to find readers! If you enjoyed this story, please consider leaving a review so others can find it too!
www.annawellschlager.com
Jane Air Page 23
