Before It's Love by Michelle Pennington

Author:Michelle Pennington [Pennington, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-05-13T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Jake

When I heard Lauren’s voice coming from the drawing studio Monday afternoon, I couldn’t resist going in. I found Rossi explaining the studio assistant job to her. I leaned against the wall and listened in, waiting for a chance to talk with her again. She wore cut-off denim shorts with the frayed edges a few inches above her knee and a purple t-shirt with a faded turquoise sun printed across the front, the sleeves rolled up to her shoulders. I didn’t blame her, it was a hot day and the air conditioning struggled to cool these big studios. Hopefully the weather would cool down soon now that it was September.

I dusted off the surface of a drawing horse with my hand and sat down. I’d learned long ago that I’d walk out with black charcoal dust on my butt if I didn’t. Lauren saw me and smiled when I nodded to her, but turned back immediately to face Rossi. Her twitchy hands told me that I was making her nervous. Good. It was only fair with the effect she had on me.

Rossi was in his element, instructing someone. He stood with his hands in his jeans pocket, rocking back and forth on his feet. Rossi always sounded pompous when he was giving instructions, something you learned to ignore because he was otherwise a decent guy.

“You can set your own hours,” he said, “As long as things get done in time. My last class ends at two-o-clock, so any time after that you can put away the lights and model platforms unless I leave a note saying otherwise. Sweep the dust every day. It gets to be a nuisance quickly if you don’t. Then check if I’ve left any instructions for the next day. I may have you set up for me ahead of time. I can adjust the lighting when I get in.”

“And what should I do for Mr. Chavez?”

Rossi shrugged, appearing unconcerned. “He’ll tell you if he needs something. Honestly though, you probably won’t do much but scrape paint off the floor in the painting studio. The-powers-that-be have started to complain about it and the janitors don’t have the manpower.”

“Okay, no problem,” Lauren said, her voice firm, as though she was worried people might still doubt her ability to do this job.

“Great. Cooper can tell you what he needs, so I’ll leave you to it,” Rossi said, walking to the door. “There’s a form on my desk for you to record your hours.”

When he was gone, Lauren looked across the room at me, her eyebrows raised. “Do you have something for me to do?”

“No. And I won’t.”

Her eyebrows stayed in place, obviously waiting for me to say something more. “Okay,” she said, drawing out the two syllables. “I’m going to get to work.”

“Go ahead. Mind if I talk while you work?”

She unplugged one of the two lamps trained on the model platform and began winding up the cord. “No. What’s up?”

“Grams wanted me to invite you over to work in her studio again on Saturday.

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