Late to the Party - Kelly Quindlen Page 0,48

about this shit everywhere,” Natalie said, flinging a pair of weight-lifting gloves out of the way, “but he’ll be most himself if you paint him here.”

I grinned. “You know all my tricks now.”

“Hire me as your assistant,” she said, flicking her hair back theatrically. “I’d have to fight Terrica for it, though; she’s dying to get in on this. Don’t be shocked when she asks for her portrait next.”

Cliff bounded down the stairs in a black button-up shirt, beads of water still clinging around his scalp. “I told you it’d only be five minutes,” he panted, fastening his top button.

“Cliff,” Natalie said, staring at the garish red Nike shorts he was wearing. “What’s with the shorts?”

“What? It’s not like Codi’s gonna paint my legs,” he said, charming her with a big smile. “And if I’m gonna be sitting for hours and hours, I gotta keep the boys comfortable.”

“Oh god, shut up and get your butt on the chair,” Natalie said as I tried to block out any image of Cliff’s boys.

We played music this time, keeping it low in the background while Natalie sat a few feet from Cliff and talked to him about the drama from her shift that morning. Cliff grinned through all of it, but he kept glancing at me self-consciously, his shoulders pulled tight.

“Sorry, Codi,” he said. “Just feels a little weird to be paying someone to draw my face.”

“It’s gonna be awesome,” Natalie said, rubbing his knee. “And if you don’t want it, I’ll buy it. Just stay loose and show Codi that adorable smile of yours.”

Cliff’s smile became softer, in what I assumed was his version of a blush. His shoulders relaxed, and for several minutes I was able to see the real him.

“So, Codi,” he said after a quarter of an hour, “I heard Ricky freaked out on Friday night.”

I paused with my brush in midair. Cliff’s voice was light, casual, but he and Natalie were both watching me intently.

“Um. What do you mean?” I asked.

Cliff shrugged. “Nat said he was acting all moody when y’all left Sam’s house.”

We looked at each other. He was still smiling, but there was strain behind it: He was fishing for information. I remembered what he had said that first night at Taco Mac: Typical Ricky. Won’t trust us with his hookups.

“Oh,” I said, wondering how to play it off. “Yeah, I think he was just tired.”

“Hm,” Cliff said, wrinkling his nose. “Yeah, sometimes he gets like that.” He made eye contact with Natalie, and I could tell this was a conversation they’d had many times before.

Natalie turned to me. “Cliff worries about him.”

“Babe—” Cliff began.

“No, Cliff, it’s okay,” Natalie insisted. “You should be allowed to say how you feel. He’s your best friend.”

Cliff sighed. His shoulders were tight again, and he glanced at me almost like he was embarrassed. “I just didn’t know if you had any insight,” he mumbled.

I lowered my eyes, trying to keep my expression neutral. I wished there was something I could offer Cliff—some hint of what was going on with Ricky, of what Ricky might need from him—but I knew it wasn’t my place.

“I don’t,” I said, wincing apologetically. “Sorry.”

Cliff shook his head too fast. “Nah, don’t worry about it.”

Natalie gave me a sad, knowing smile, and I returned it—two girls wishing these boys could say how they felt.

* * *

“What the fuck,” Cliff said in an awestruck voice, gazing at his portrait.

Natalie was beaming, her arm around Cliff’s back. She kept shaking her head like she couldn’t believe how well the painting had turned out.

“Damn, Codi,” Cliff muttered. “You really are something else.”

I laughed lightly. “Do you want anything changed?”

“Hellllll no. You made me look awesome.”

“Look at this,” Natalie told him, pointing at the cheeks of portrait-Cliff. “She got your dimples and everything.” She turned to me, still shaking her head. “Two for two, Codi. You’re incredible.”

“Damn,” Cliff said again, still staring at his likeness. He took it in for another thirty seconds, then looked around at us. “Well, shit, I’m starving. Who wants tacos?”

We went for Mexican at Los Bravos, just the three of us, and I was surprised to find how comfortable it was even with me playing third wheel. Cliff made us laugh with old stories from the football team—“I’ve heard this one before,” Natalie muttered to me, “so be prepared to hear about Samuel’s naked ass”—and eventually, to my delight, the conversation turned to Lydia.

“That asshole could’ve been here right now,” Natalie said, shaking her hair