Chapter Nineteen - Gorgeous Gorgonzola

SUNDAY NIGHT!

Be cool. Don't let them all think I've been watching the clock the whole day in anticipation of sundown. I was able to close at two and tried to get in as much sleep as I could via a quick nap. That worked until five, leaving me sitting in my apartment trying to do anything but wait until seven.

Juggling an eggplant lasagna in one hand and the keys in the other, I manage to unlock the front door without falling face-first into dinner. Though, something tells me not even bits of dirt and leaves in the lasagna would slow Cheddy down. Laughing at the image of sauce dripping down his square chin, I push open the door.

"Excuse me, Dearie?"

A woman hustles across the street without looking once. She waves a hand, flashing a forearm's worth of bangles at me. With curled gray hair pinned back under a bandanna and dressed in a peasant skirt and blouse, she's the kind of woman my mother would accuse of being a witch.

"Yes?" I ask, nervous that she'll want to balance my crystals or read my chakras. In college, another student offered to give me a tarot reading for fun. When my mother found out, she forbade me from ever going into that building.

Slightly huffing, she pauses just under the streetlamp as the light kicks on. She smiles, shifting the wrinkles on her face. "I'm Alva. I own the store just over there. It's a soap shop if you're ever in need of goat's milk soaps that'll soften your skin to butter."

"Ah. Thank you. I'm not really looking now, but perhaps later." The lasagna's getting hotter by the second in my hands. "I'm Violette, by the way. If you care."

"It's nice to see the cheese shop back in business. There's been flocks of people trailing in and out of your door all day. Did you buy it?" Alva stares me up and down as if she's either trying to guess my age or net worth.

My cheeks burn almost as badly as my palm. "No. I inherited it from my great uncle."

"Poor Mateo," she says and places a hand on her heart.

"You knew him?"

"Of course. We have a coalition on this street. You should join. Let me just see…" Alva dives into her purse that stretches to her knees. I expect her to pull out a floor lamp, but she places a brochure in my hand instead. Or tries to, anyway. Alva settles on leaving it on top of the tin foil. "He was a good man."

I smile with a pang in my heart. Instead of it getting easier, it hurts to think about how much time I lost with my only good relative. I'll never get it back. Bowing my head, I try to slip inside without opening the door too wide.

"And I don't give any truck to those old rumors."

My hand smacks into the glass and I peer back at her. "Rumors?"

She teases her curls below her bandana without care, almost like I'm not even standing there. Then she jerks and shrugs. "Silly things. You know how mongers love to gossip. They'd claim to see Mateo late at night with four strange men in his shop. And sometimes, they were even nude."

Oh no. I gulp and stare around the block. I hadn't given any thought to those other windows across and down the street. Are they all watching? Did they see me with four naked men too?

"Really?" I choke out, failing to keep my voice level.

"Don't concern yourself about it, Dearie. These are old rumors from decades back. Your uncle was an upstanding man and not some…deviant."

That word. My hair stands on end. Deviant. My mother uses it a lot too, usually about people who didn't do a thing to her. "Well, I need to get inside. Clean up. Close up. Usual shop things." I duck in through the door and pull it closed behind me. Before it shuts, I call out, "It's a pleasure meeting you."

"You as well—" Alva's voice muffles, so she shouts even louder. "—Dearie! And if you need any soaps, don't forget to stop by Alva's Suds for a good cleaning."

"I will," I assure her, giving a little wave. With her good deed done, Alva tugs her purse and barrels back across the street without a thought to traffic. Standing just under the banners advertising half off cheddar, I peer around the block wondering how many people are watching me right now. How many have seen me, the filthy girl that's been with three of the four…?

"Sonofa! Owe, owe, owe!" I run while juggling the lasagna and drop it on the counter. Hissing, I shake my red palm to try to find some relief. My whimpering and meager cursing are interrupted by the whine of a trap door flying up.

"Hi, Vi!" Cheddy shouts. He's first up the ladder, and first to wrap his arms around me. For a brief second, I'm his whole world. He bends down to kiss me, then he catches the mystery casserole. "What's that?"

"Your dinner," I tease.

"My blushing beauty," Cam greets me before he offers a hand to Brie.

"Guys, look, dinner!" Cheddy hoists the dish above his head like it's the one, true king. Then he tears off the foil and cries even louder, "Lasagna!"

"Eggplant lasagna," I tell Brie who smiles with gratitude.

"Well, divvy it up, my man," Cam says to Cheddy. He catches my eye and gives a wink before he glances at Brie.

I catch on as Brie starts to nervously fidget with something in the pocket of his apron. Then it hits me that they're all not only dressed but wearing aprons.

"Um, Violette?" Brie begins before he drops his gaze to the floor. His lips move, but I can't make out a word he says.

"My god, man, slow down before you drown in lasagna," Cam commands. He wrenches the entire dish away from the famished Cheddy.

Leaving the two of them to figure it out, I slide in next to Brie. "Is that one of your paintings?" I ask, spotting the familiar rectangle outline in his apron pocket.

Brie flushes fuchsia, and he bites his lip. Then he nods hard and stares at the ceiling for a change of pace.

"Can I see it?"

"Well, I…there's just a few, um. I don't know if…"

"Oh, show her already, Brie!" Cheddy shouts. Sure enough, a line of tomato sauce and cheese dribbles down his chin. "He went on and on about it all night."

"Your chin," Cam says, tapping his at Cheddy.

"No." He laughs hard. "That's your chin. This is mine." He smears the stain clear across his palm, then runs it through his hair. Cam answers with a slow sigh. He returns to his dish but keeps an eye back on me and Brie.

"Okay," Brie says. "Okay, I'm gonna." He pulls the canvas out, but it's facing his stomach. "The thing is, I don't know if it's good. It's not good. But I just, I wanted to—. Here!" Clenching his eyes tight, he flips it around.

Holy shit. It's me. But like me through all the best beauty filters. No acne scars, no rosacea across my nose and forehead, with my hair behaving instead of sticking straight up on the crown like a light socket shocked me. I'm sitting on a park bench with sunlight streaming through my dark blond and pink hair. Oh, it's Cheddy's park with the fountain just behind my shoulder.

"It's okay if you hate it. I'm not very good. I just thought, maybe you'd like to. I don't know." Brie's still got his eyes closed as he extends the painting out like it"s an angry badger.

"Brie, it's beautiful."

"Really?" His eyes pop open, a smile rising, before he frowns. "You're only trying to assuage my feelings."

"No, no. What's assuage? It's good. I mean, it's fantastic. You made me…" I can't stop staring at my own eyes. The acrylic ones sparkle with dots of blue and green catching in the park's sunlight, unlike the real ones that, at best, can muster up ditch water gray. "Beautiful," I whisper.

"Because you are," Cam says. "Not to downplay Brie's achievement in capturing your vivacious spirit with a brush, but it can't be too challenging given the porcelain he had to work with."

"Did you just say Vi's a cup?" Cheddy asks.

"Yes," Cam deadpans, then he smiles. "A gleaming bone china so delicate a single sip could shatter it."

"So you, are you saying you like it?" Brie asks.

"I love it!" I gasp, overwhelmed by the mass of foreign compliments.

They're being nice. It's not like they meant any of it. They need you.

I know, but I can still enjoy them, at least a little bit.

"Here." Brie passes over the painting, and I reach for it. A thud drops in my stomach. Even if I spent a hundred hours on my hair and makeup, I'll never look as pretty as that Violette.

"No," I cry out, causing all three of them to look at me. "I…I think you should keep it."

"Oh. Okay."

"So you can see me whenever you want," I whisper to Brie. His cautious smile becomes genuine, and he nods.

"Hmm." Cam scoops up the painting and turns it around to inspect it. "If that's the case, I have a few suggestions on the next one. Violette reclining in the bath with her glorious hair spilling down the side as she sucks upon a ripe, crimson strawberry. Are you writing this down?"

A loud clap breaks us from having to answer or think about Cam's request. Dressed in not only an apron but with a white hairnet, Roq looms impatiently. He crosses his arms and tilts his chin. "Are you ready to learn how to make cheese?"

"Yes. Please. I was watching a few videos and doing some Googling. In anticipation," I say, damn near boiling over in excitement.

"That is…something," Roq says. "Cheddy, Cam, I will need your help in heating the milk."

"What about dinner? Freshly prepared by our mistress herself." Cam extends the lasagna pan which Roq only gives a cursory glance.

"That can wait until the milk is acidifying. Come on. What's this?" Roq's steamroller is thrown by the painting in Brie's hands.

"It's, I…I wanted to—" Brie begins to explain as Roq pulls it from his fingers.

Roq gives it a quick once over. What's he going to do with it? Tear it in half? Throw it on the fire? Cackle while it burns and Brie cries? Without saying a word, he pulls one of the old framed photos off the wall and hangs the painting in its place. "That brightens the place up," he declares. "Now, come on, before the milk curdles."

With a sad sigh, Cam and Cheddy put down their lasagna plates. I drape the tin foil back over it in the hopes it'll keep a little while longer. As Cheddy joins Roq, I lean close to Cam to ask, "Can that really happen?"

"Only if Roquefort breathes on it."

"I heard that!" Roq shouts as he slides down the ladder.

Cam and Cheddy take my hands, both of them helping me to the ladder. "Au fromage," Cam whispers, before he plants a kiss to my cheek. "Then ménage à trois."