It’s magnificent.
At least .?.?. in the moment.
I was so interested .?.?. and reckless .?.?. that I asked if he would photograph me. I didn’t expect him to, but he handed me his card and said he’d only do it if I agreed to be paid. Since the work would be featured in his book, I’d need to sign rights for him to use it.
If I told my brother, he’d have a fit and call it borderline prostitution.
Me? I call it expressing myself through art.
But a tiny part of me wonders .?.?.howfaristoofar?
Yes, that was exhilarating, and I can’t wait to see the images when Patrick’s done with them, but .?.?. is that really me? Or was I just trying to prove something?
And if so? To whom?
“Rose,” Wesley sighs. “I know how stubborn you are. I came prepared.”
“Gonna pull the mom and dad card on me again?” I try to sound bored with the threat I know is coming.
“No,” he starts because he secretly hates being predictable. “Fine, yes. It’s me or them, Rose.”
I grumble, but it’s more for his benefit. Because I’m not going to lie, I’ve considered moving back home.
My brother sighs. “OK, what about going back to school?”
“What? Who has time for that?” I don’t ask if he means art school or back to NYU to finish my degree. Because either way,I won’t be able to afford this place on a part-time salary, or the tuition.
“Youwould if you let me help you. Rose, I’m your brother. I know your independence is important to you and being young and carefree has its appeal, but so is looking at the future. After the summer, let’s talk. If you’re still itching to get back to New York, I’ll help you look for some scholarships and get you back into school. Even schools like .?.?.” He sighs. “Chelsea Art Academy.”
My eyes widen at his offer. Is this a trick or is Wes really coming around? “Thought you said it’s notpractical.”
“Fuck practical. This is what you want. We can get you a work-study program and maybe you can keep”—he sighs again, like coming on board with me is truly painful—“bartending on the weekends.”
A grin spreads across my face. “Thanks, Wes.” I consider the summer offer again for a beat, not quite ready to commit. “I really can take care of myself. I just .?.?. need to get my groove back.”
He scoffs. “Where’d ya lose it? What’s it look like? I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”
“Wow. Harsh. You know, it’s not my interest in art that makes me impulsive.”
“Art? No. Quitting four jobs in the past year because of ‘artistic differences’ is impulsive.”
“I’m going to embarrass you,” I warn. Or maybe I’m fishing for some affection and reassurance that I could never do such a thing. That I’mnotan embarrassment.
“It’sWilder. I’m pretty sure he could pass a certification test on my kid sister.”
“Wonderful,” I grumble. “Tell me you talk smack about me without telling me you talk smack about me.”
“All right, I gotta get back to the kitchen before they burnsomething. We all set, then?”
I groan with a soft laugh. “Wes. I’ll shrivel up and die out there.”
“It’s not that hot.”
“I meant from boredom.” Now I’m just having fun with him. Because I’m pretty sure I’ve already made my decision.
“You’ve gotme,” he cheers like he’s the poster boy for good times.
“And the shriveling has started,” I mutter.
