I swipe my finger across the screen and hold the evil little device to my ear. “Hey, Mom.”
“Are you already out there? What happened at work today? You can’t skip out just because you have somewhere fun to be.” My mother thinks my job is a joke even though it more than paid the bills until Nick showed up. No one knows just how bad it’s gotten and I sure as hell don’t want to hear her lectures now.
“Mom, I didn’t skip out. Amy is there.”
“Amy won’t do the same job you would do.”
“Amy is stapling papers. I don’t think she’ll staple her hand too often, so we’re okay. Have you and Daddy left yet?”
“Don’t change the subject, Missy! I told you that you should have gone to college like Sophie did, but did you listen? No. Now, you run off in the middle of the day and leave Amy there alone. What if someone wants something?”
“Then they call me on my cell phone.” Oh, God. Someone shoot me. I lean my cheek into my hand and lean sideways as Mom chews me out.
“That’s no way to run a business, Sweetheart. Have you thought about what Daddy and I offered?”
“I’m not going to close my studio, Ma.” My tilted body is off balance, as I perch on the side of my chair, ready to topple over. We’ve had this conversation too many times to count. They think I threw my life away because I didn’t get a college degree. The thing is, all my friends who did are now jobless and flipping burgers. I don’t have their debt and things were pretty good until Nick started screwing with me.
“Sophie is going to talk to you and I think you should listen to her.”
My feet are crossed at the ankle. When she says that, I push too hard on my right foot and try to sit up quickly, but I must be standing on my shoelaces because my foot doesn’t move. So, instead of going up, I fall down.
Picture a penguin at the zoo that suddenly falls sideways. Boop. It’s really funny, except when I fall, my hands dart out and grab the closest thing to me—the guy at the next table. I manage to clutch a fist full of crotch and grope him thoroughly before hitting the cement. If he hadn’t been facing me with his legs splayed like that, it wouldn’t have happened. I was trying to grab the chair and totally missed.
The guy’s eyes go wide and he jumps up, bumping the table with his hip. His pasta dish and tea start to slide as gravity pulls everything downward. By this time, I’m on the ground and I turn just in time to get a plate of spaghetti in the face, followed by a full glass of tea to wash it off.
I can hear my mother shrieking from somewhere on the sidewalk, still scolding me. For a moment, no one says anything. They just watch in horrified silence. I wipe the sauce and tea from my face and glance down. It looks like I was the victim of an assassination attempt by a clown. There’s a huge red stain over my boobs with limp noodles in my hair, and a few hanging from the neckline of my shirt. One noodle is actually caught in my necklace. The tea diluted the sauce, which then ran into every crevice of my body, so I’m saucy and sticky. Not to mention, I groped a random stranger and knocked his table over.
I sit there way too long, trying to blink the stinging sensation out of my eyes. When I look up, the guy has his hand out. I take it and he helps me up.
“I am so sorry,” he says. He isn’t laughing at me, which comes as a shock.
“No, it was my fault,” I say. Someone hands me my phone and I hit END CALL without telling my mom goodbye. She calls back two seconds later.
Handsome guy chuckles at the Imperial March as it plays again. “I suggest not answering that.”
I laugh, otherwise I’d cry. “Not planning on it.”
The wait staff bustles around us, righting his table and cleaning up my mess, leaving the two of us standing awkwardly in the middle of the restaurant. “My name’s Deegan, by the way. Deegan Greene. I’m a Sci-Fi nerd and I’m pretty sure you’re a goddess.”
A shy smile passes over my face, as I look at the ground and then back up at him. I hold out my sticky hand. “Sky Thompson.”
“Can I walk you back to your hotel, Sky?”
“That depends. Is it four o’clock, yet?”
His jaw drops slightly. “Are you here for the Steve Stevens wedding, too?” The way he says it makes me laugh even though his lunch is stuck to my body.
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“I’m guessing we had the same receptionist. I’m Steve’s best friend.”
I nod and pull a piece of spaghetti from my shirt. “I’m the photographer.”
“Really?” I don’t know why he says it like that. Apparently, I made a really bad impression, as if I’m too clumsy to photograph people.
“Yeah. I’ve known Sophie since we were kids.”