Draw Me In (12 page)

“
To ask the questions?
”

“
Yes, to ask the questions. But I only
have one.
”
His necktie was slung low on his neck now, and he
’
d at some point unbuttoned the top
button to his shirt, revealing the shallow divot below his neck. I hadn
’
t gotten that right in my drawing. I
’
d have to go back and fix that.
“
Would it be so bad if I actually did
come into the coffeehouse hoping to see you?
”

“
Bad? No, not really.
”
What was he admitting to here?

“
Good. Because I half did it for the
coffee, half to see if you were working.
”

“
I
’
m surprised you drink your coffee straight
up,
‘
cause
it sounds like you like a little half and half.
”

Leo
’
s head slipped down in a laugh and he
looked back up at me through his dark lashes as he said,
“
You
’
re funny, Julie.
”
The way he said it made it sound
like maybe that was a good thing. I
’
d
definitely take funny over awkward. But then I realized that some people were
funny
because
they were awkward, and
that made me panic.
“
So.
About the job.
”

“
Oh, right.
”
I
’
d temporarily forgotten that
’
s why I was here. For a minute there
it felt a little like an appointment with my OBGYN, with all that talk of
ovaries and such. I half expected Leo to order a me a Pap Smear and I hadn
’
t waxed in longer than I cared to
admit, so that would be all kinds of embarrassing.

“
We
’
re looking to redo our label for our
Chianti Classico.
”
Leo rotated in his chair and stood up, the seat making a thumping sound as he
abandoned it. He walked over to an elaborate bookshelf lined with wine bottles
ranging from the size of my hand, all the way to a double magnum. Running his
fingers along the rounded curves of each one, he landed on a typical sized
bottle and wrapped his fingers around the long neck.
“
It
’
s not selling as well in the U.S. as
we
’
d
like with our current label, and our research shows that has to do with the modern
look and feel of it.
”
He held it out for me to take a look with the base in his palm and the bottle
resting on his forearm the way waiters do as they wait for you to nod in
approval.
“
It
’
s an Old World style wine, and we
’
ve decided the label should match. We
want this to be a go-to Italian table wine. When Americans think of Italian
wine, they think of Chianti. And when Americans think of Italian food, they think
spaghetti and meatballs. And when they think of someone serving them that
Chianti and spaghetti and meatballs, they think of an overweight Italian woman
that talks with her hands and reminds them of their grandma. This is where you
come in.
”
 

“
Because I remind you of your fat
grandma?
”
Oh goodness, I hoped not.

He
grinned and laughed.
“
No,
definitely not.
”
He paused like he was making the comparison in his head and chuckled again when
he was done replaying that reel.
“
Because
you have the talent to create that Old World label we
’
re shooting for. It
’
s rare to find someone as gifted as
you are with a pencil and paper. Much of what is out there today deals more
with computer graphic design. And while our designer will be taking your
sketches into our editing programs for the final mock up, we want to start with
your organic, raw drawings and go from there.
”

This
couldn
’
t
be real. Just last week I was telling Ian that I wanted to find a job where I
could exercise my almost extinct talent and here I was, sitting across from a
man that was asking me to do just that.

I
pinched myself. Which then made me jump because I
’
d forgotten to cut my nails and that
really hurt.

Leo
’
s brow knit together as he looked
down at my arm.
“
What
are you doing? You okay?
”

“
Yeah, totally fine.
”

“
Okay.
”
He hesitated.
“
You know what a bust is, right?
”

Were
we seriously back onto the reproductive organs?

“
We have one we
’
d like for you to depict. It
’
s of Renaldo Carducci, my great,
great, like great to the sixth power or something, grandfather. He
’
s the original founder of our wines,
so we want to tie in that family tradition into your composition.
”

“
Sounds amazing.
”

“
Well, hopefully. That
’
s the goal. We want people to see
this on the shelf a their local grocer and feel drawn to it. Literally. That
’
s why we
’
ve chosen you to help us achieve
that.
”

During
his little speech of sorts, Leo made his rounds across the room, ending up
directly in front of me, leaning his backside into the desk, his ankles crossed
over one another. How he could look so incredible just lounging like that was
beyond me. I closed my eyes for half a second and quickly sketched him in my
brain, because this was too good not to imprint there.

“
So.
”
His head tipped to the left and a
lock of dark hair swept across his forehead. He didn
’
t bother shaking it off.
“
You in?
”

“
Like Flynn,
”
fell out of my mouth before I could
stop it. I realized that might not have been the best choice in words because
Errol Flynn had quite the risqu
é
reputation, and I was trying hard to keep this conversation clean since we
’
d moved past the ovary talk.
“
I mean, yes. I
’
m totally in.
”

“
Good. So now we just need to book our
flights.
”

“
Our flights?
”
I broke off the thread I
’
d been messing with between my
fingertips. I
’
d
need a new dress by the end of the workday if things kept up like this. It
would be nothing but scraps.

“
To Florence. That
’
s where the bust is
—
well, just outside
in Tuscany
—
and
the vineyard, too. I
’
d
like for you to see it all to really be able to depict it on our label.
”

Mama
mia.

I
pinched myself again.

“
Why do you keep doing that?
”

“
Splinter,
”
I lied quickly, trying to think of
the only other reason why I
’
d
keep squeezing the skin on my arm. I guess a zit would
’
ve been an acceptable lie too, but of
those two options, a splinter was the least offensive.

“
Do you need some tweezers?
”
He skirted the edge of his desk and
began rummaging through the contents in his top drawer, fingers wildly
searching. Scissors, pens, and paperclips clattered against one another as he
shoved them aside. That Leo was concerned about my made up splinter ailment
sort of made me go all gooey inside.

“
Nah, I
’
m fine.
”
I waved him off.
“
Florence or bust!
”
I blurted, throwing my hands in the
air like a madwoman. Maybe he had some duct tape in that drawer because I
really should think about taping my mouth shut to avoid shouting silly things
like that.

“
Florence or bust,
”
Leo agreed with a laugh that was
really loud and uncontrolled. I couldn
’
t
help the smile that spread onto my face as a result of knowing he at least
found my antics entertaining.
“
But
for now, lunch or bust. There
’
s
this new cafe, Namaste, a block over that I
’
ve been wanting to try out. Grab your
coat. We
’
re
gettin
’
some grub.
”

CHAPTER TEN

“
I see how you did that.
”

The
cafe was packed, the chattering buzz of half the city filling the booths,
tables, and even the small patio to the brim, then bubbling over. It was a
cacophony of plates rattling, voices humming, and the almost melodic slam of
the cash register syncing into a chorus that felt so very New York. My insides
vibrated with excitement because this was exactly what I adored about the city:
how every aspect of it was alive. Pulsing.

“
How I did what?
”
Leo dipped his hand into his back
pocket to pull out his wallet.

“
Got me to go to lunch with you.
”

His
shoulders bounced with a silent laugh.
“
Julie,
I got you to come work for me. I
’
d
say I
’
m
past the sting of rejection from my denied lunch proposal.
”

“
It stung you?
”

We
shuffled forward as we waited our turn in line. A girl with a beehive of red
hair and a ring through her nose like a cow
’
s rang up a customer in front of us
on her machine.

“
Like a bumblebee.
”
I wondered if the cashier
’
s hairdo brought that analogy to his
mind because I
’
d
been thinking the same thing.

“
Male or female?
”

“
What?
”
Leo shook his head a little like it
wasn
’
t
securely fastened to his neck.
“
I
don
’
t
know. Male, I guess.
”

 
“
Well
that comparison won
’
t
work
‘
cause
the drones don
’
t
actually have stingers. The females do, and they can actually sting more than
once since their stingers aren
’
t
barbed like a typical bee.
”

He
stared openly.

“
Okay, then a female bumblebee because
I have a feeling you
’
re
not done stinging me.
”

I
blanched.
“
Why
would you say that?
”

If
ever there was a time when I wished for terribly slow customer service, it was
now, but I wasn
’
t
granted that wish because Beehive Girl waved us forward with a summoning flick
of her wrist.

“
What can I get you two today?
”

I
hadn
’
t
spent any time looking at the actual menu until now, so I just repeated Leo
’
s order. I hoped it wasn
’
t tofu, because even though I
considered myself adventurous when it came to culinary feats, tofu was pretty
much just the glue that you used to eat in kindergarten in adult form. I didn
’
t like eating paste anymore.

As
our cashier paused for the receipt to print, her fingers waiting expectantly
where the roll of paper would come out, she looked me up and down and said,
“
I really like the color of your
dress.
”

Black?
Okay.
“
Thanks,
”
I smiled as she tore off the receipt
and handed us our drink cups.

Leo
managed to track down the only empty table in the restaurant, if you could call
it a table. It looked more like a pallet that you
’
d find in an alleyway, and the two
“
stools
”
were overturned metal pails,
scattered chips of paint clinging to their edges like they were the last
remaining survivors in an epic battle that obliterated the rest. The lipped
edge of it dug uncomfortably into my butt, and I noticed that we didn
’
t have any utensils or napkins. My
eyes roved the room until I located a sink in the back corner that read
“
Wash Station.
”
A line a least eight people deep
stood behind what looked like a sink where I assumed you were responsible for
washing your own cutlery.

Well,
this was certainly interesting. I decided whatever it was that I ordered, I
would be eating it with my hands.

It
was hard to focus on any one thing in the cafe, but my ears kept connecting
with the shrill tenor of the cashier
’
s
voice as she repeatedly told each customer that she liked the color of whatever
various type of clothing they were wearing.

Leo
slid onto his seat and set our water cups onto the pallet-turned-table.

“
Do you see what she
’
s doing?
”
I asked, becoming increasingly
appalled as I watched each phony interaction unfold.

“
What?
”
He turned around on his bucket.
“
Who?
”

“
The cashier.
”

“
She
’
s taking orders.
”

I
pursed my lips and shook my head.
“
No,
she
’
s
complimenting the customers.
”

“
Oh, that
’
s nice.
”
Damn was he cute when he said that.
Even though his eyes became smaller when he smiled, they gleamed so brightly.

“
No,
”
I corrected him.
“
It
’
s not nice. Listen.
”

Over
the near roar of noise around us, I could make out her saying,
“
I really love the color of your
sweater,
”
to a middle-aged man sporting a cashmere button-up cardigan.

“
Yeah, I don
’
t love that color,
”
Leo said, pointing to the man
dressed in chartreuse.
“
To
each his own.
”

“
No,
”
I huffed, getting more and more fed
up with this gal
’
s
completely insincere praises.
“
She
’
s reusing her compliments. She
’
s telling every single customer that
she likes the color of whatever it is they
’
re
wearing.
”

“
Maybe she
’
s recycling. Seems like everything in
here is recycled. I
’
m
pretty sure the napkins are made from toilet paper.
”
He waved a roll in front of my face,
the craft colored end fluttering like a tiny paper flag.

“
That
’
s wrong. You can
’
t dole out insincere compliments.
That
’
s
totally unethical.
”

 
“
It
’
s unethical to reuse compliments.
”
Leo said it like a statement he was
trying to make true by uttering it. Somehow it still came across as a question.

“
Yes. You can
’
t reuse stuff like that. That
’
s like Being Human 101 type stuff.
You have to be sincere.
”

“
No repeating of compliments. Got it,
though I
’
m
not sure why you
’
re
so bothered by it.
”

I
lifted my water cup to my mouth and took a sip, but the cardboard of it started
to dissolve immediately upon the moist contact with my lips. Peeling off the
soggy residue it left on my mouth, I said,
“
It
’
s unoriginal.
”

“
Definitely something you are not.
”

 
“
Unoriginal?
”

“
Julie, you are the most original
person I have ever met.
”
Leo
’
s
eyes slammed into mine and I dumped my water onto the table, one act triggering
the other. Liquid soaked into the wooden boards and I grabbed the toilet paper
to sop it up.
“
Except
that. That
’
s
getting unoriginal since you
’
ve
done it five times now.
”

“
Four.
”

“
Who
’
s counting?
”
When he reached across the pallet to
draw the napkins from my hands, a spark ignited as our fingers came in contact.
He literally shocked me.
“
Sorry,
”
he said, rubbing the pad of his
thumb and index finger together to minimize the sting. He was right. I wasn
’
t done stinging him.
“
Do you want me to go say something to
her?
”

“
What?
”
I took the sopping paper towels and
arranged them into a ball.

He
didn
’
t
wait for an answer and stood up from his metal pail with a jolt. Waiting his
turn in line, I watched him approach the cashier, his upper half leaning
slightly over the counter as they exchanged several words, a glance toward me
over his shoulder, and lots of nodding as though she was intently listening to
what he had to say.

After
a couple moments, he wove his way back to our table and sat down across from
me.

“
She says we make a cute couple.
”

“
Excuse me?
”
I choked on my water, or maybe it
was a wad of soggy cardboard. I couldn
’
t
be sure.

“
I told her you felt like you didn
’
t get your money
’
s worth since she was reusing her
compliments, so she gave you an entirely new one.
”
He slid a piece of paper across the
pallet.
“
And
a coupon for a free meal during your next visit.
”

“
Did you tell her we weren
’
t a couple?
”

“
No,
”
he said.
“
She didn
’
t specify. And we are a couple. A
couple of people. A couple of colleagues. A couple of friends. It
’
s still a pretty all-encompassing
compliment, but I haven
’
t
heard her tell anyone else they are a cute couple, so I think we should take it
as a win.
”

At
that moment, the same cashier came over with our order perched on top of an
upside down trashcan lid. She slid two things that deceivingly resembled
burritos our direction, looked back and forth between the two of us several
times, and then swiveled away to her post behind the counter.

“
So you seem to know a lot about bees,
”
Leo said, unwrapping the foil casing
around his food to peel it down far enough to bite at the top portion.

“
My uncle is a beekeeper and I worked
as a bee smoker for him the summer when I was twelve.
”

Around
a mouthful of food, Leo asked,
“
And
what is a bee smoker?
”

I
tried taking a bite of my lunch, but I was sure there was actual glue inside.
“
They
’
re responsible for calming the bees.
Smoke masks the pheromone the guard bees release, so you can actually get in
there while their defenses are down.
”

“
That sounds like a pretty interesting
job.
”
How he was able to devour half of his tortilla-wrapped paste, I had no idea.
But he continued eating like it was actually made from ingredients belonging to
a real food group.