there a girl involved?” Tio asks.
“How did you know?” Andrés doesn’t know why his uncle’s question takes him by surprise. Tio is the smartest man Andrés has ever known. He grew up wanting to be just like him. And then Andrés went through that rebellious stage. Not a day goes by when Andrés doesn’t regret shaming his uncle during his wild teenage years, especially after all Tio has done for him.
The old man’s voice rings with laughter. “There’s always a girl involved.”
Andrés can’t help himself. He might regret it later, but he is just amazed by Christina’s talents. He knew she was different from other girls he’s dated, and now he knows why. “She’s an artist, Tio,” he says with a note of awe in his voice. “You should see her work.”
“Can she paint cars?” Tio asks.
“I don’t know,” Andrés says, but he knows she can. The question is whether she will. He doesn’t want to make his uncle promises, especially when he hasn’t talked to Christina yet. “She’s done a lot of boats.” Andrés remembers the boat hulls with the jumping fish. He knows the pictures in her portfolio didn’t do the artwork justice.
“Boats? I’ve got a boat here that needs to be finished by tomorrow. You gonna bring her by or what?” Andrés can hear the urgency in Tio’s voice. Finding and keeping good artists is always a sore spot for his uncle. So many of them get into trouble with the law or hooked on drugs. Of all of his uncle’s businesses, the paint and body shop gives him the most headaches.
“I’ll ask her and get back to you.” Andrés says, and then he mentally smacks himself upside the head for even suggesting it. Christina won’t want to waste her talents painting cars.
“She in the shower, mijo?” Tio chuckles. “Should you bring her by the house instead?”
Andrés freezes. Maybe calling his uncle wasn’t such a good idea. The old man is too smart for his own good.
“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” he says through a nervous laugh. Actually, he doesn’t know if she is ready for that yet. He knows how his family can be, and he isn’t about to throw Christina into a pack of wild coyotes. She’ll run away for sure. “I’ll see if she needs a job and get back to you.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Tio answers with a note of impatience in his voice.
He’s plagued by doubt after he hangs up the phone. Christina’s work should be hanging in expensive art galleries. She’s a college student, and judging by the way she speaks and dresses, a wealthy one. Why would she want to go to work for his uncle in the slums?
Chapter Thirteen
I’m sipping sweet coffee and munching on crunchy bacon, giving Andrés coy smiles while he’s looking at my website on his laptop.
“I gotta look at your paintings again,” he said to me this morning, before he kissed me on the cheek, rolled out of bed, and went into the kitchen with his computer tucked under his arm.
By the time I’d gotten out of the shower, the heavenly scents of bacon and coffee assailed my senses, so I’d brushed my teeth, slipped on my clean undies, jeans, and ripped shirt, and gone into the kitchen to find breakfast ready, and Andrés drooling over my portfolio.
Amazingly, I don’t feel awkward this time around. Not one bit. I’m sitting at his kitchen table, slathering butter and jelly on toast while he shakes his head from behind his screen. I want to know what image he’s looking at but I don’t say a thing. Instead, I admire the angular contours of his face, his high cheekbones and lush, full lips. I’m not exactly the religious type, but I think that this boy had to have been personally designed by a higher power. I’m not very good with clay, which saddens me, because with his finely sculpted body, he’d make a beautiful statue. I do want to draw him, though, and again my hands itch for a pad and pencil.
He looks up from the screen and eyes me pointedly. “So you looking for a
“How did you know?” Andrés doesn’t know why his uncle’s question takes him by surprise. Tio is the smartest man Andrés has ever known. He grew up wanting to be just like him. And then Andrés went through that rebellious stage. Not a day goes by when Andrés doesn’t regret shaming his uncle during his wild teenage years, especially after all Tio has done for him.
The old man’s voice rings with laughter. “There’s always a girl involved.”
Andrés can’t help himself. He might regret it later, but he is just amazed by Christina’s talents. He knew she was different from other girls he’s dated, and now he knows why. “She’s an artist, Tio,” he says with a note of awe in his voice. “You should see her work.”
“Can she paint cars?” Tio asks.
“I don’t know,” Andrés says, but he knows she can. The question is whether she will. He doesn’t want to make his uncle promises, especially when he hasn’t talked to Christina yet. “She’s done a lot of boats.” Andrés remembers the boat hulls with the jumping fish. He knows the pictures in her portfolio didn’t do the artwork justice.
“Boats? I’ve got a boat here that needs to be finished by tomorrow. You gonna bring her by or what?” Andrés can hear the urgency in Tio’s voice. Finding and keeping good artists is always a sore spot for his uncle. So many of them get into trouble with the law or hooked on drugs. Of all of his uncle’s businesses, the paint and body shop gives him the most headaches.
“I’ll ask her and get back to you.” Andrés says, and then he mentally smacks himself upside the head for even suggesting it. Christina won’t want to waste her talents painting cars.
“She in the shower, mijo?” Tio chuckles. “Should you bring her by the house instead?”
Andrés freezes. Maybe calling his uncle wasn’t such a good idea. The old man is too smart for his own good.
“I don’t think I’m ready for that yet,” he says through a nervous laugh. Actually, he doesn’t know if she is ready for that yet. He knows how his family can be, and he isn’t about to throw Christina into a pack of wild coyotes. She’ll run away for sure. “I’ll see if she needs a job and get back to you.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Tio answers with a note of impatience in his voice.
He’s plagued by doubt after he hangs up the phone. Christina’s work should be hanging in expensive art galleries. She’s a college student, and judging by the way she speaks and dresses, a wealthy one. Why would she want to go to work for his uncle in the slums?
Chapter Thirteen
I’m sipping sweet coffee and munching on crunchy bacon, giving Andrés coy smiles while he’s looking at my website on his laptop.
“I gotta look at your paintings again,” he said to me this morning, before he kissed me on the cheek, rolled out of bed, and went into the kitchen with his computer tucked under his arm.
By the time I’d gotten out of the shower, the heavenly scents of bacon and coffee assailed my senses, so I’d brushed my teeth, slipped on my clean undies, jeans, and ripped shirt, and gone into the kitchen to find breakfast ready, and Andrés drooling over my portfolio.
Amazingly, I don’t feel awkward this time around. Not one bit. I’m sitting at his kitchen table, slathering butter and jelly on toast while he shakes his head from behind his screen. I want to know what image he’s looking at but I don’t say a thing. Instead, I admire the angular contours of his face, his high cheekbones and lush, full lips. I’m not exactly the religious type, but I think that this boy had to have been personally designed by a higher power. I’m not very good with clay, which saddens me, because with his finely sculpted body, he’d make a beautiful statue. I do want to draw him, though, and again my hands itch for a pad and pencil.
He looks up from the screen and eyes me pointedly. “So you looking for a
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