I smile and turn back to the road. “I can tell.”
“Why do you even want to be a server anyway? You like pandering to rich snobs who barely look you in the eye?”
“It’s called tips. And I don’t make any.”
He reaches into the cup holder where the earrings are rattling around and picks up a single red post earring. “What do you need money for? You got a pile of rubies and diamonds just chilling in your car.”
“They’re rhinestones. It’s cheap garbage.”
He holds the earring up to the light from oncoming headlights. “Shafer red,” he notes.
“Pure coincidence, I assure you. But if you like it, it’s yours for five bucks.”
“That hard up, huh?” His jaw twitches. “Look, maybe ... maybe I can throw you a little something from my tips.”
“Feeling guilty, huh?” I shake my head. “Well, thanks, but you’re the last person on earth I want to owe any favors.”
I know without looking he’s got a dirty little smile on his face.
“If you want to make money, why don’t you get a job at Cameo’s for a few months?”
I almost choke. “The strip club?”
“Why not? You don’t have to dance if you’re that uptight. Be a cocktail waitress.”
“Okay, let’s make that the last piece of unsolicited career advice you ever give me.”
“What? It’s a compliment.”
“No, it’s not. No woman has ever taken something like that as a compliment without having to convince herself first.”
“Okay, Jade. And I’ll stop speaking for all males when you stop speaking for all women.”
I snort.Ain’t gonna happen.
“So what the hell are you money hungry for anyway? I thought Lenni said your dad was loaded.”
“Loaded? Yeah, right. She must not have been talking about money.”
“Your parents aren’t paying your tuition?”
“Well, they are, but I’d hardly call them wealthy. Anyway, I’m saving for grad school, which they refuse to pay for unless I choose a program they approve—which will happen when hell freezes over.”
“What program are you after?”
I almost lie to him. I’m so tired of the looks I get when I announce my plans to someone—the doubt, the surprise, the amusement. But what do I care what Reeve Dalton thinks? “I’m going to Spain for an art history program.” I glance over at him but he looks unaffected.
“I didn’t know you were studying art.”
“I’m not.”
“You speak Spanish?”
“Eh. Working on that.”
“So you don’t know anything about art or Spanish, but you’re moving to Spain to make art all day. Cool. Makes sense.”
“I’m not making art. I’m studying art history,” I huff.
