word about it. People talked about how mysterious I was.
The more people talked, the bigger my story seemed to become.
Even though it was all bullshit.
There was only one person who came close to the real Josh.
“Can I get you anything else?” Amelia asked as she surprised me by standing at the table.
“Hey,” I said. “I barely got to talk to you.”
“I’m working,” she said. “And you’re…”
“She’s a friend.”
“I don’t really care.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I never said you had to, Amelia. Just letting you know…”
“Do you need anything else?” she asked. “I’m not going to stand here and make small talk.”
“So, you don’t want that story about me, huh? Or from me? Did you ever finish writing that thing about me?”
“No,” she said. “I’m over it. There really wasn’t much of a story there to begin with.”
Amelia was acting jealous.
She played with her fingernails and tried to keep a mean look on her face.
“So, when do I get to read one of your animal stories?” I asked.
“Hopefully never,” she said.
Michelle came back to the table and Amelia hurried away.
I was pissed off.
I wasn’t sure why though.
“Have you thought about what’s next?” Michelle asked as my eyes slowly scanned the restaurant, looking for Amelia.
“What?” I asked.
“What’s next? You know Sasha will give you her gallery anytime you want it. That’s an amazing thing.”
“Yeah, it’s something,” I said.
“Something? You know how many people would kill for that? You have made yourself into this giant mystery, Josh. Everyone wants to see your artwork. Everyone wanted to try and catch a glimpse of you. You show everything about yourself through your artwork, yet nobody knows a thing about you. I don’t even know that much about you…”
“Yes, you do,” I said.
“No, I don’t. Think about what we do, Josh. We talk about art. We drink. Then we…”
“I know,” I said. I rubbed my jaw again. “That’s good enough, right?”
“Is it?”
“For me, it is.”
“Okay. Then it’s the same for me.”
I leaned forward. “Why don’t you have someone in your life, Michelle? A boyfriend? Someone to take care of you?”
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
I didn’t answer as I pulled myself from the booth.
I charged through the restaurant like I owned the place. I didn’t care who was sitting where or why or what Amelia was supposed to be doing.
The entrance to the kitchen was tucked off to the right side.
That’s where I went.
I spotted her. Not coming from the kitchen, but behind a small counter where there was a computer screen.
She stood there, punching at it with her pointer finger.
The glow of the screen on her face made me grin.
I blinked as though I were taking a picture of her. Every line of her face. The shape of her silhouette. Her hair. Her nose. Those lips.
When she turned and saw me, she started to shake her head.
“I’m not moving,” I said.
That at least got her to come after me.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“I need to talk to you.”
“About what?”
“About why you’re jealous of me being with another woman.”
“Jealous? Hardly. I’m doing my job right now, Josh. Just because I was supposed to write a story about you doesn’t mean I’m at your mercy.”
“At my mercy?” I asked. “Those are some intense words, love.”
“Please,” she said. “Go back to your date. I have a bunch of tables to take care of.”
Without hesitation, I slipped my hand into hers and stepped back, pulling at her.
“Josh,” she growled.
“Come here, love,” I said. “For a second.”
She shook my hold away and followed me as I moved back toward the restrooms.
We were hidden, not that I really cared about that.
“I meant what I told you,” I said to her. “I’m not on a date. Not that it should matter.”
“It doesn’t matter, okay?”
“What do you want to know about me, Amelia?” I asked. “Everyone wants this story from me. I don’t get it. There is no story. I do what I do.”
“What everyone else wants and what I want are two different things,” she said.
“Meaning?”
“You know exactly what I mean.”
Amelia walked backward, her blue eyes trying to destroy me.
“I’m still waiting to read one of your stories first,” I said.
“Tell me where to send one then,” she said.
She was beautiful.
Intense.
She was the same kind of trouble as before.
“Will you tell me what you think of these?” Michelle asked.
She brought out a small, black folder and opened it. Inside were black and white sketches she had been working on. The thing