I bark out a brittle laugh. “Apparently the gallery’s clientele don’t feel that way. Neither does the owner.”
“Well, they’re wrong.” Tasha’s dark eyes study me with a deepening concern. She puts her hand on my forearm, forcing me to hold her gaze. “Fuck them, Avery. They’re all wrong.”
I shake my head and withdraw from her comforting touch before her tenderness makes me crack. “It’s no big deal. In fact, I knew this day was coming. I’ve only sold one piece all this time. Margot believes in my work, but she’s not running a charity. And God knows, kindness never paid my rent either. Which reminds me, I’ve got customers to take care of—”
Tasha steps into my path to block my escape. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah.” I hold her concerned, too-wise gaze then shrug. “Believe me, I’ve survived worse. I’m fine.”
She doesn’t move. Doesn’t release me from her stare. Behind her, one of the servers calls to her with an incoming drink order. Tasha holds up her finger to him in response, all of her focus on me. “I’m your friend, damn it. Don’t piss me off by acting like I’m not. Are things that bad for you right now?”
I want to deny it outright, but the words don’t come.
I never can seem to hide much from Tasha, and her expression tells me that I wouldn’t be fooling her even if I tried. But as well as she’s come to know me since we’ve been working together, there are still things she doesn’t know. Things no one knows about me. Not here in this new city, this new life I’m trying to make for myself.
And as much as I’d like to keep my current personal problems a secret from Tasha, she’s obviously not about to let me shut her out right now.
“My building’s being turned into condos and I’m getting evicted from my apartment.” I blurt it out without taking a breath. “I have two weeks before I have to either buy my place or move out of it.”
“Jesus, Avery. A couple of weeks? What are you going to do?”
“The only thing I can do—move out. I can’t afford to stay and even if I had the money I wouldn’t want to buy in that roach-infested building.”
“Shit, honey. Where will you go?”
“I don’t know.” It’s the truth. Even though I can feel Pennsylvania tightening its grip on me where I stand, I’m not ready to admit total defeat yet. I’m not ready to give up.
Tasha nods, contemplation churning in her caring eyes. “If you need someplace to stay while you figure things out, Antonio and I can make room for you at the house. We don’t have a spare bedroom, but there’s a sleeper sofa in the living room that’s yours for however long you need it.”
“No.” I’m touched by her generosity, but I can’t impose on her like that. Her house is full enough with her new baby and a mother-in-law who recently moved in. I shake my head. “Thank you, but no. I won’t ask that of you—”
“You didn’t,” she points out. “But then, you never ask anyone for anything, do you.”
It’s not a question, so I choose not to answer. “I’ll manage. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time. I’ll get through this too.”
On the other side of the bar, another server arrives and calls to us with a new order.
“Be right there,” Tasha shouts over the din of the restaurant. Her soft doe eyes study me for a long moment, a sad kind of understanding in their depths. “You know, it’s okay to let people help you once in a while. It’s okay to let people care about you.”
I can’t tell her that I agree. I can’t even give a weak nod to appease her.
I learned a long time ago that help never comes without a price tag, hidden or not. And even the people who claim to care about you the most can turn against you in the blink of an eye.
She walks away to fill the incoming drink orders from the dining room, and I get busy bringing fresh rounds to the people seated at the long bar. I notice the woman at the far end is still alone and waiting. Her glass of Pinot is untouched, and her cell phone sits next to the drumming fingernails of her left hand.
As I approach to see if I can bring her anything else, she glances at her phone and picks it up to read what I assume is an incoming text. She frowns, then her jaw drops open in a look of utter exasperation. “No . . . Oh, for the love of fuck! You have got to be kidding me.”
Evidently, I’m not the only one dealing with disappointment tonight.
I’m not the type to pry into other people’s business, so I let her outburst go unmentioned. “Do you need anything else right now?”