Page 64 of Hot Shot

“So that would be good, right? A place where there are canvases and paints and you can paint whatever you want?”

“I guess.”

That sullen teenage response is probably as enthusiastic as we’ll get. I fight a smile. “Good. Your aunt and I will keep working on it.”

She now lifts her head to give me a long look. “Is she your girlfriend now?”

I blink and run a hand over my hair. “Uh . . . why do you ask that?”

“You look at each other funny. You both talk about each other a lot.”

“Oh yeah? Carrie talks about me?”

Julia rolls her eyes. “Oh my God. See what I mean? So have you asked her out?”

Once again, I stumble. “Ah, no . . . actually, I haven’t.”

And sadly, this is the truth. We’ve been sneaking around hooking up at her place or mine whenever we can both find time, but I’ve never taken her out on a date.

That’s pathetic. She deserves better than that.

“You’d be okay if I asked her out?”

Julia shrugs. “Whatever.”

I’ll take that as positive, too. “So this is your last night here. Your debt is paid.”

She nods, but doesn’t look overjoyed about that.

“You’re gonna miss us, aren’t you.”

“Phhht.”

But I see the look in her eyes. “Fourteen’s pretty young to be working. And even younger to be hanging out in a bar. But you’ve done a good job, Julia. Someday if you do want a job, we’d be happy to hire you.”

She grimaces, but I see a flash of pleasure light up her face. “Thanks. I guess.”

“Maybe sometime Carrie could bring you to my place to see my sculptures.”

“Oh yeah.” She turns to me, eyes wide, apparently forgetting to keep the attitude in place. “What kind of sculptures are they?”

“I use scrap metal and weld it into different shapes. I do a lot of sea creatures.”

Her eyes round even more. “Cool.”

“How are you dealing with your parents splitting up?

Her face closes up. “Fine. It’s no big deal.”

“When I was your age—fourteen—my parents got deported back to Mexico.”

Her gaze lands on me, eyes big. “Really?”

“Yeah. Left me and my sister all alone. Not that that’s the same as your parents getting divorced, but it was a shock. I was pretty angry about it.”

She nods. “I think that’s worse,” she says slowly.

“I was scared too . . . about the future. Not knowing what was going to happen to us. I was embarrassed at school, and after my sister and I were split up to different foster families, I felt pretty lonely too.” I pause. “You talk to your friends about it?”

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