“Are your feelings hurt?”
“Deeply.”
“Good. You deserve it.”
He chuckles softly. “Fair enough.”
I roll my eyes and walk inside, Jack wheeling behind me. I force a smile towards Evie and Ikram—I really need to take the time to get to know them, they seem to be nice people—and stride towards the living room where I fall on the couch.
My eyes fall on the sketchbook on my lap, where a half finished sketch appears. The one I was drawing after I finished “Hypothetical Hypocrites”, while I was listening to my audiobook before I got interrupted by Jack and Nate. The woman pushing the stroller in the park, holding hands with another woman while the kids run around them, and the Australian Shepherd holding a wooden stick in his mouth.
Nate stared at it for a long time when he picked it up from the floor. Was it because it was two women holding hands and it called to his newly accepted homosexuality? Him being gay would explain a lot. Why he didn’t tell Jack about posing for my art assignments, why he asked to treat Jack even though they haven’t talked for almost a decade. Maybe he had a secret crush on him since they met, and he slept his way through all the girls on campus because he was in huge denial.
I sigh. I really need to slow down on my storytelling if I want to get back on working with the police. The storytelling game is supposed to be just that; a story. A fantasy. I can’t start mistaking the game for reality. If I start storytelling in my head when I’m doing a composite drawing, that could impact on the face they end up with.
Also, new rule; no more storytelling on people I actually know. That includes Nate. Gay or not, I shouldn’t be imagining stuff just because I want Jack to have a romantic life. But god, I wish he did…
7
HAPPY PEOPLE FREAK ME OUT
Prudence: Where are you?
Jack: Medical appointment.
Jack: Ikram is driving me.
Prudence: Oh.
Prudence: Can I do anything?
Jack: We’re good.
Jack: Stop worrying about me.
Jack: See you in a few hours, Sunshine.
PRUDENCE
My laptop pings with a new email, and I jump from my chair in excitement. The LAPD confirmed our last interview for tomorrow morning, asking me to bring every document they need to sign my freelance contract.
It’s been a week since we moved here and I offered my services as a freelancer. They did their background check, checked my references from the other police departments I’ve worked with, and we already had two hour-long calls. They mentioned that they were actually looking for full time forensics sketch artists and that they would prefer me going full time but, given my current situation with my brother, they were okay with me going freelance for now.
I’m still jumping up and down in the kitchen when I hear giggling behind me and I turn around with a gasp.
Evie is standing with a huge smile at the front door, a brown paper bag full of groceries in her arms.
“Are we celebrating something?” she asks, closing the door softly with her foot before walking towards me.
“Oh, hum… I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you coming in.”
“It’s alright, I’m sorry if I scared you.”
She drops the bag on the round dining table with a sigh before wiping her brows on her forearm.
“Dear lord, that rain is taking its sweet time…”
She starts unloading the groceries, humming softly, and I still haven’t moved. Why am I so weird every time she or Ikram is around?
