Page 74 of Deliverance

I haven’t been able to do it again since.

The memories give me anxiety.

“I’m pretty sure it was a butt-dial.” I get back to the topic we were discussing earlier. “You would have said something, right? If you called someone in the middle of the night and got voicemail.”

Expression thoughtful, Santiago gives me a one-shoulder shrug and releases my hand. “Maybe. Maybe not. Besides, you said it yourself. You never texted him back.”

I cover my face with my palms, embarrassed. Zander didn’t deserve to be thrown out of the building wearing nothing but a paint job and jeans. He didn’t even take the time to put his shirt on when he stormed through the door and into the dark corridor. I remember the slap of his bare feet on the cement floor and the creak of the stairs as he rushed to leave the building.

Why text me after I humiliated him like that?

“Furthermore.” Santiago holds a finger up to stress what he’s about to share. “He still has your piece up on his Instagram.”

“Oh my God!” I draw my palms away from my face and roll my eyes. “You stalk his Instagram?”

“Only to make sure he’s not playing you.”

“I’m positive Instagram won’t give you any answers. Plus, there’s no way he can play me, because we’re not happening.”

“Whatever you say, babe.”

“Don’t be sassy with me, Santiago Ortega.” I stare him down.

He grins, all his pearly white teeth on display.

“Anyway”—I check my phone—“I need to run. Tina asked me to meet her at the gallery.”

“Ooh, sounds promising.”

“I just hope it’s not another lecture.”

Fifteen minutes later, when I enter Tina’s office, I’m greeted by an austere expression and a curt, “We need to talk.”

Acid pools in my belly and makes its way up to my throat, coating the back of my mouth. I was certain our last chat about surprises and how much I hated them was fruitful.

“For God’s sake.” Tina’s features slacken. She stands up from behind her desk. “Relax. It’s not the end of the world.”

A sigh forms in my lungs, but I hold it, waiting for more.

“I’ve been working on something. Not intentionally, at first. It came up in a conversation a while back. I need you to hear me out on this.” She walks over to the window overlooking the alley and pauses.

“Okay. I’m listening.” The suspense is killing me. I can hear the whoosh of my pulse in my ears and the drum of my heart in my chest.

Keep it together, Drew. It can’t get any worse than Friday night.

A few seconds tick by, then she turns to face me and raises both palms in the air—a silent request for me not to go ballistic. “I’ve spoken to a few curators on the East Coast and there’s an opportunity for us to take your show on the road.”

I push the air out through my nose. Loudly. This action doesn’t bring me any relief. Deep down, I’m trembling. “Uh huh.”

“You’d have to go on the road too.”

My mouth hangs open. “Like a tour?” My anxiety takes a front seat and now I’m just a passenger in my own body.

Tina nods. “Nothing as elaborate as that band Hazel’s husband is fronting, but essentially, yes.

“I don’t understand. Why do I have to go?”

“Because you’ll be doing press and Q&As.”

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