I Want You To Want Me. Kathy Love

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      Also I want to thank my editor, Kate Duffy, and my agent, Jenny Bent.

      They’ve made this year much easier for me.

      And finally, and most important, thanks to my daughter, Emily.

      She reminds me everyday what matters in life.

      I love you, Boo.

      Chapter 1

      “Is there something wrong with the left breast?” Erika Todd asked her friend as she peered at the torso in front of her.

      Maggie tilted her head, considering. “Yes. It’s—crooked or something.”

      Erika’s head tilted too. “Maybe it needs to be bigger.”

      “Or higher.”

      Erika sighed, throwing down the clay-encrusted towel she’d been using to wipe her hands, and turned away from the sculpture. “Argh! I just can’t figure out what my problem is. I’ve been struggling with all of my pieces lately. And I’m getting more than a little frustrated.”

      “Maybe it’s just a matter of getting used to your new surroundings. A lot has been going on for you in the past three months,” Maggie said.

      Erika shrugged. “I suppose, but it’s all been good stuff. I should be feeling inspired, not…” She glanced back at her latest creation. “Lopsided.”

      “Well, you’ve been pushing yourself,” Maggie pointed out. “Moving is hard. Maybe you just need to allow yourself a little break.”

      Erika nodded even though she didn’t agree. She hadn’t found the move hard. In fact, taking the apartment in Maggie and her husband Ren’s building had seemed natural. The right move. She loved New Orleans. It spoke to her creativity.

      All signs to the contrary. She frowned at the sculpture again.

      “Well, I don’t have much time. My show is in a month, and I’d hoped to have three new pieces done for the exhibit.”

      It was Maggie’s turn to simply nod. Her friend knew how important this show was to Erika. The Broussard, a renowned gallery in the French Quarter, was doing a show dedicated just to her work. She needed it to be perfect.

      After years of struggling, working jobs she hated, living on macaroni and cheese and ramen, listening to her father tell her she had to think about getting a “real” job, things were finally falling into place for her, and she didn’t want to lose momentum. This was her dream.

      But maybe Maggie had a point. Obviously, working continuously wasn’t creating the results she wanted either.

      She surveyed the piece again, then sighed. “This piece is supposed to be called ‘Fallen Angel.’ Not ‘Fallen Boob.’”

      Erika СКАЧАТЬ