Page 85 of Stroked Long
“Hey, are you just going to stare off into space, or are you actually going to clean those brushes?” Lola asks, as if she’s the boss of me.
“I’m cleaning them,” I defend, looking down at the brushes and realizing they aren’t even under running water.
“Sure. Come on, Ruby. I want to go home at some point.”
“You can go home. Everything else is clean, I just have to finish these brushes.”
“And what about the glue in your hair?” Earlier on, I recruited Lola to help me extract the Elmer’s Glue out of my hair on lunch break; I was luckily able to wash it out.
“Took care of it.”
“And your shoes?”
I shrug. “Might have to Picasso their asses and call them my art shoes.”
“Could be kind of badass, being an art instructor and all.”
“Could be. Thanks for your hard work today, apparently all the rats of the classroom decided to come in today.”
“Just another day at the club.” She wipes her hand with a paper towel and then asks, “Any movement on the foundation stuff? I would really like to help out at the gala. It would give me a great experience to put on my résumé.”
The gala. Goodness I haven’t even thought about it, not when I’ve had Bodi Banks on my mind and trying to chip away at the wall he’s erected around himself.
“We could really use the help, especially with setup.”
“Really?” Excitement beams off Lola. “That would be so awesome. What about the pictures? How are you going to get those made? Do you need help getting Bodi to paint?” She wiggles her eyebrows and instantly my hackles rise. “He’s so hot.” Yup, now I want to punch her.
Whoa, settle down, Ruby. The girl is way younger and just crushing on a famous swimmer.
Yeah, a famous swimmer who happens to belong to me.
But does he? Oh hell, I’m fighting with myself. So not healthy.
Forgetting the old angel and devil war going on in my head, I answer her, “At training camp in San Antonio, we are going to have swimmers take some time to do paint strokes against the canvas. Since they will all be there, it will be easy.”
“That’s awesome. Are you going down there to do it?”
Huh, we never really discussed those details.
“Still working things out.”
She sighs and puts her purse over her shoulder, looking at the ceiling wistfully. “It would be so cool to be there, watching all those swimmers getting in and out of the water, especially Bodi.” Leaning forward she says, “Him and Reese for sure have the biggest packages I’ve ever seen.”
And this conversation is now officially over.
“Aren’t you going to be late for something?” I ask.
Checking her phone for the time, she scrunches her nose. “Shoot, I’m going to be late for my hair appointment. I will catch you tomorrow, Ruby. Thanks for taking care of the brushes.”
“Mm-hmm.” I nod and smile at her as she exits the room.
Sheesh, when did high schoolers become so forward? When I was her age I wasn’t talking about men’s bulges. Hell, I don’t even think I knew what a bulge was. Nope, I was too busy taking cross-stitch classes at the local Michaels, along with cake decorating classes. And where has that gotten me? I can cross-stitch a cake on a canvas with a man’s bulge coming out the top. So . . . there.
Finishing the brushes, I make sure to avoid getting water in the ferrule of the brush because that can lead to mold, which affects the stroke of the brush. Even though the brushes I’m working with are from the dollar store, I still try to treat them properly, despite the abuse they take from the kids.
Maybe one day I won’t have to yell at a child during the day not to stick the entire bristle of the brush up their nose.
But I’m painting my boogies.
