Chapter Thirteen
Violet
After a hearty breakfast I grabbed my bike and pedaled to Old man Harris’ house. Rose thought Harris gave me a ride or even that I pedaled all the way to town and then got a lift from Lilac. I did two better, I drove Harris’ car. If you could call it a car, it was an ancient Lincoln that was at least triple my age.
But it was better than my stupid little Honda that had taken too many abusive slams and neglect that it barely sputtered to life to get out of the driveway. Then it would die and I’d end up pushing it back into the garage.
Rose had told me Harris’ had left, but I had already knew that. Harris and I were a little closer than Rose was to him. He was one of my emergency contacts at school and on my speed dial.
Opening the garage door (he gave me the combination) I slide into the Lincoln and put my bag in the passenger seat. I’m a pretty good driver but I don’t especially like to. I only drive if I have to, and usually I don’t.
It was a good thing the drive didn’t take very long, Rose always made the drive from out house to town extra-long. With my driving I made it a little longer than Wistar’s driving but shorter than Rose’s.
I got to the gallery at eleven-fifty. “The Gallery,” was the only one in Renton, owned by Clover, my boss & friend. He was a nice guy, and I was lucky he hired me. it counted as volunteer work & a job since I got paid for each painting and drawing someone bought.
I worked there for a couple hours, taking calls and helping anyone who came in. most of our customers called and Clover sometimes couldn’t keep up with all the calls. He was also impeccable cheap and didn’t want to hire me full time or even part time, not like I could work full time, and part time would result in me not having a social life.
The door jingles when I push it open and walk in the drastically cold place. Clover is sadistic I swear, he keeps the place at sixty degrees.
“Hey Vi.” He says in monotone flipping through paper work at the desk in the middle-back of the place. I shrug off my hoodie and hang it up in the back, and sit down next to him.
“How’s business been?” You’d be surprised how many people come in on Sunday’s it must be the Sunday shoppers. Most of the shops around us are shut down, it’s good for business; says Clover. He works twenty-four seven I think.
“Good for you.” Before he could explain the phone rang and he took it, a brown ringlet fell over his eyes. It was a good thing he was on the phone when I got a text or he might have gave me that disappointed look he’s known for. Clover’s only a couple years older than me but he acts like he’s in his forties.
“You with the hottie Irish?” Asked Aza, she loved Clover’s Irish accent, I liked it to but I didn’t fawn over it like Aza did.
“Yup. And forget about Clover; remember I’m trying to set you up with Jolan?! Ring a bell?” Another thing on my mind, one I didn’t know how to do. I could just ask Wistar but I thought I should get through a few more hangouts before I ask something like that. But Aza wasn’t as patient as I was, she was already about to drool over another guy if I didn’t get her a date fast.
“Oh yeah yummy yellow eyes right?” Yummy yellow eyes? Oh boy… honestly I don’t think there’s a person out there more boy crazy than Aza.
