Page 18 of Nash
Frankie's eyebrows lift. She glances at Ruby. Back at me. A smile pulls at the corner of her mouth, and she turns away toward her station, but not before I catch her mouthing something to herself that I'm better off not reading.
Ruby sets down the cleaning supplies and crosses the shop until she's standing in front of me.
"'Good work.'" She tilts her head. "That's what you're going with? I just made a grown woman cry happy tears. My shading was flawless, and I get 'good work'? That's what you say to someone who filed your taxes correctly."
"Take the compliment, Ruby."
"I'm trying. The compliment is just very small. I need you to know that. For a man who watches everything, I expected a more detailed review. I'm a little insulted."
"The gradient on the third petal. You shifted pressure mid-stroke. The transition was seamless."
Her mouth opens. Closes. The grin stalls. "You noticed the petal shading."
"I noticed everything."
The words hang between us. Her lips part. Her eyes drop to my mouth and come back up. The shop is quiet enough that I can hear the record player needle tracking between songs.
"Oh, don't mind me," Frankie says from her station without looking up. "I'm just going to sit here and pretend I'm not witnessing this."
"Witnessing what?" Ruby asks, too fast.
"Exactly." Frankie flips a page in her sketchbook.
Ruby's cheeks flush. She holds my gaze for another beat, and whatever joke she's reaching for doesn't arrive.
"Well," she says. Softer. "Okay then."
"Okay then."
She turns back to her station. Her hand grips the edge of her chair once before she sits down.
The quiet lasts about four minutes.
"Hey, Nash." She doesn't look up from her sketchpad. "If you could only eat one food for the rest of your life, what would it be?"
I look at the window.
"I'm going to guess protein. Just straight protein. Like a raw chicken breast. No seasoning. Eaten standing up in a dark kitchen."
Frankie snorts from her station.
"No? Okay. What about a hobby? Do you have a hobby? Besides standing and staring? Because I feel like you'd be really good at puzzles. The thousand-piece kind. No picture on the box. Just vibes."
"Ruby."
"That's not an answer."
"It's not supposed to be."
"One day I'm going to get a full sentence out of you that isn't my name, and I'm going to frame it."
Frankie glances over. "I'll build the frame."
The afternoon runs on Ruby's engine. She tries everything.
"Favorite color," she says while prepping for her next client. "Go." I look at the window. "I'm going to say black. No. Wait. You strike me as a dark green guy. Very moody. Very forest-at-midnight."
"Ruby."
