“I’ll bring my book to the shop tomorrow, so you can have it. It was a cute read. A little bit of spice, and a totally swoon-worthy crush. I think you’ll like the main character a lot. She’s feisty,” I say, turning back to Fran.
“I’m sorry for being pushy. I just really hoped to get to talk fantasy reads before you left. No one around here wants to talk about hot fae or morally gray dragon shifters. I’ve been trying to get a book club up and running forever now but no one bites.”
“I can always call you. We can still talk books, even when I’m back in the city.”
“Count me in too, Fran! I read all the things,” Viv says.
Fran’s face lights up. She claps her hands together.
“Goodie!” She pulls out a spiked seltzer and cracks it open. “Cheers to Paint and Sip night! Rachel is thebestteacher.”
“No, you need to add a curve. It’s a boat, for goodness’ sake! It’s not a floating box!” Viv laughs.
“Leave her alone, Viv. How bad could it—” Fran leans over and looks at my canvas. “Oh. Yeah, hun, you need to add some curve to the boat.”
“I did!”
“Ehhh…” Fran’s voice hits a higher pitch than I’d ever heard it. Viv giggles to the right of me and Reg sighs, clearly exasperated by our incessant noise. He looks over to see what the ruckus is about but bypasses my canvas for another.
“Frannie, yours is”—Reg clears his throat—“it’s really nice.”
Fran looks over her shoulder, then back at her canvas, then back over her shoulder. “Thanks, Reg. I look forward to looking at yours too, when it’s done.” He’s turned his canvas away from all of us, so no one can see what his painting looks like. Fran said he does that every time in case his painting looks like shit. He’s very sensitive, so we’re told.
“All you have to do is tap, tap, tap, with the black lightly and it’ll look like a tree. Don’t overthink it,” Viv suggests as I flick my paintbrush against the canvas, hoping it’ll turn into a tree.
“Iamtapping!”
“You know what, it looks fantastic. Here, have another sip of your wine.” She lifts my glass and hands it to me.
“Wine will not make me a better painter, Viv.”
“Well, it can’t make you worse. Drink up.”
“Oh, Fran! The colors are beautiful!” Rachel appraises her painting as she wanders by to check our progress.
“Liv…” Her voice dies on her lips. I turn to look up at her only to find her covering her mouth, cheeks red from the laughter she’s trying to stifle.
“This is bullshit.” I slap my paintbrush onto the table.
“Go ahead, Rach, tell her what you think of her box on the water surrounded by black cotton balls that are supposed to be silhouetted trees, and some Van Gogh Starry Night shit in the sky there,” Viv teases.
“Oh, fuck off,” I mumble, trying my best to scowl when all I want to do is laugh. It’s true. My painting is awful.
Rachel struggles to speak between gasps for air and fits ofgiggles. “Babe, it’s awful. I’m so sorry, but this isnotyour thing.” She swipes the tears from her eyes.
“Some teacher you are!” I protest, but the vitriol isn’t there. “It is pretty awful. Kinda looks like a three-year-old painted it.”
Fran, Rachel, and Viv burst out laughing at my expense, and I can’t help but join in. I love these ladies.
Reg clears his throat, and we all wipe our eyes, our giggles fading.
“Reg, are you ready to show us your work?” Rachel claps her hands together, and Reg nods. He turns his canvas so that it faces us.
“Oh, Reg, it’s beautiful.” Rachel gasps.
The colors splash across the canvas in a vibrant medley. The boat doesnotlook like a box. In fact, the shading is so lifelike that if I didn’t know he painted it, I’d think it was a photograph.
“Wow. I did not know you were such an artist, Reg!” Viv clasps her hand over her heart.
