Page 11 of Free to Live
“Then figure out a way to fix it. But do not stand there and berate people who dared to open up their souls after being reformed or while being reformed and judge them. Then it isn’t the system that failed; it’s you.” Around me, people begin to applaud. “I have no problem with looking at the thought-provoking, intriguing art that is in front of me. What I can’t stand is someone who refuses to open his mind and realize people are individuals, and perhaps he should read some of the stories beneath the art so he understands why some of these people did what they did.” Stomping over to the next picture, I throw my hair over my shoulder. “I’ll find my own way home.”
“I think it’s best if you do.” His face is a mottled red. Glancing around at the people who are now openly staring at us, Seth steps quickly towards the door.
Once he’s left the area, a small burst of applause breaks out.
I smile before turning back to the picture in front of me. It so perfectly captures the feelings I had living in the run-down house between the time my mother died and before I was taken—it’s brilliant. “I wish it was for sale,” I murmur quietly.
“I know what you mean,” a warm voice comes from behind me. Spinning around, I find the smiling face of the visitor experience manager who I had been introduced to when I first went to the Aldrich many years ago.
Holding out my hand, I ask drolly, “Am I being ejected?”
“Quite the opposite.” A light of amusement lights Jasmine’s eyes. “Dare I even ask what made you say yes to that odious man?”
“Not all of us are fortunate enough to find love through our work, Jaz,” I murmur in deference to the patrons wandering around us. “Some of us occasionally have to swipe right to get a date.”
She lets out a low laugh. “I’m always so amused by your constant inability to see yourself as others see you.”
I tense without even realizing it. “And how’s that?”
“Absolutely lovely. Witty. Pure class. The right man is going to walk through the door one day, Holly. And you are going to have no idea what hit you.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ll believe that when I start believing Prince Charming might exist.”
“And when will that be?”
“When someone makes me believe the Tooth Fairy, Santa, the Easter Bunny,andPrince Charming might exist again,” I answer bluntly.
Jasmine’s laughter causes her beautiful braids to cascade down over her shoulders. A warm hand lands on my arm. “Girl, then you have plenty of catching up to do. The rest of us were dreaming about Prince Charming since we were like six and realized boys were good for something other than spitballs.”
I lean forward and whisper, “Wait, they’re still not good for that? There goes our fun with Phil.”
Jasmine slaps a hand over her mouth to hold in her chuckles. “You’re killing me.”
I wink.
“Do you need a ride back to Collyer?”
“Nah, I’m going to enjoy my afternoon off. I figure I’ll stop off and grab lunch at Genoa. Then I’ll call the office for a ride home. Seth drove us here, even though I wanted to just meet him. Next time, I’ll listen to my instincts.”
Jasmine just shakes her head at me. “If you go to Genoa and don’t bring your family back some, they might call your date back and make him take you out again as punishment.”
Knowing she is not wrong—my family’s obsession with the small Italian eatery is known far and wide—I decide, “Maybe I’ll head there and see if they want me to pick up takeout for dinner.”
“Good call. Listen, I get a break in a few minutes. Walk around and then I’ll drop you off at Genoa and grab myself some Starbucks on the way back. There’s no need to be ruining those cute-as-hell shoes,” Jasmine looks down at the pumpkin-colored heels I’m wearing with my jeans.
“Are you sure?” A glare is my only response. “Okay. Just come grab me when you’re ready.”
Jasmine flashes a quick smile at me before she goes over to greet some of the other patrons. And I again lose myself in the drawing in front of me.
It really is a damn shame I can’t buy it.
* * *
“I appreciate the ride, Jaz.”Tugging on a knit cap out of my bag, I quickly tuck my hair beneath it. Even though it’s late March, the temperature has turned as temperamental as my date. Where it was warm when the day started, it’s downright frosty now, and it’s barely two. I’m grateful I decided to wear my peacoat so I don’t freeze. Flipping up the collar, I burrow down into it.
“My pleasure, babe. Hey, do me a favor? Tell Ali to call me? We’re going to have a new exhibit coming up in a few months, and the director wants to get on the schedule.”
I pull out my iPhone, type a quick note, and set a reminder. “Done.” And score. I just found a pair of gloves too. I quickly put those on.
