Looking for You by Kate Perry

Author:Kate Perry [Perry, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-08-22T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Camille shifted from foot to foot, wincing at the pain inflicted by her pumps. The evil salesperson in Macy's had claimed were comfortable.

Comfortable if you were used to walking barefoot on broken glass. It was only ten in the morning and already her feet were done.

She leaned against Outta My Gourd's doorway. Gwendolyn Pierce had to arrive soon. Tapping the newspaper in her hand against her leg, Camille glanced at the store hours for the hundredth time in the two hours she'd been waiting. Open from when I arrive 'til when I leave. Who did that?

Looking up the street at the cafe a couple blocks away, she wondered if she had enough time to grab a coffee and be back before the woman arrived. But just as she started to move she saw a figure rollerblading toward her from that direction, a blaze of green, orange, and pink. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out it was Gwendolyn Pierce.

The bright smile on Gwendolyn's face dissolved the moment she saw Camille waiting in the doorway. The woman skated up the handicap access at the end of the block and rolled to a stop in front of the store. "This is expected yet unpleasant," she said, fishing in her pockets.

"Congratulations on getting into the de Young, Ms. Pierce." Camille smiled with extra friendliness. "It's deserved. Your artwork is surprisingly nice."

"It that supposed to be a compliment?" the woman asked as she produced a single key on a ring.

"Yes, of course." She steeled herself—she was doing this—and pushed ahead. "I'm writing an in-depth article on you, and I thought we could take care of those questions I had before."

"You're not going to relent, are you?"

"No, I'm not, Ms. Pierce," Camille said firmly.

"Then you might as well come in." She pointed a warning finger at Camille. "No pictures. And stop calling me Ms. Pierce. My name is Gwen."

"Okay." Why didn't she want pictures taken? Was she hiding from the drug cartel? Maybe she was into money laundering.

Her imagination spun so quickly that she didn't realize Gwendolyn had left her standing outside until the door clicked shut. Shaking out of her reverie, she walked inside.

Inside, the woman was perched on a stool, unbuckling her rollerblades. She set them behind the counter and walked to the back.

Should she follow? Camille didn't know. She was still debating when Gwen returned, carrying a tray. She'd also put shoes on, cute olive green Mary Janes that looking enviably comfortable.

The woman put the tray on the counter and pointed. "Bring that stool here and sit."

Whatever it took to get the interview. She dragged the seat over and perched on top of it, setting her purse and newspaper on the counter. "So I thought we'd start with—"

"Put this on." Gwen shoved an apron at her.

She stared at it, dumbfounded. "Are we cooking?"

"No, we're painting. I didn't want you to get anything on your suit." Pulling a stool from behind the counter, the artist perched on it and pulled two virgin gourds from the tray.

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