The City Still Breathing Read Online Free Page A

‘You’re fucking gorgeous.’
    â€˜Sure sure.’
    â€˜You are. To the max. You’ll be all over the place – billboards, TV .’
    â€˜It’s not about that, it’s just … I want it so bad. I’ll work my ass off.’
    â€˜You’ll be fine. You’re gonna be great.’
    â€˜And you’ll do the photo shoots. My personal photographer.’
    â€˜Sure.’ His hand’s still there but now he’s pulling away.
    â€˜When you can. You’ll be busy with school and putting on art shows at little museums. I’ll help you hang the photos. I’m good at that.’
    He leans back to make room for the plate Lucy drops in front of him. Heaps of everything, bacon piled on the side, oozing grease. She refills Francie’s mug. ‘No school today?’
    Slim answers by driving his bacon onto the tabletop with his fork. Lucy almost chokes on her gum. ‘Slim Novak, you little devil.’
    â€˜It’s Slider. My last name is Slider.’
    â€˜What?’ Lucy’s eyes bug out like a cartoon character and Francie swallows a giggle.
    â€˜Yeah, I changed it.’
    â€˜Your poor mother,’ Lucy says with a huff and then she’s off with her coffee pot, spreading joy.
    Slim picks at his potatoes. Francie grabs a piece of his toast, too bleached for him to eat. ‘If we leave right after this, we’ll be there by one, right?’
    â€˜Mm.’
    â€˜I can’t wait to get there. We can go get some food at this rad little Mexican place around the corner from Morgan’s – you’ll love it.’
    â€˜Mm.’
    He’s not looking at her, but she doesn’t need his eyes to see right into him. Some people say that whole eyes-are-the-window thing, but with Slim it’s his forehead. Which eyebrow is up, how many creases, one two or three, what shade of red is streaking across – an equation only she understands. Not just a window but an airplane hangar into his soul. ‘You’re not comin, are you?’
    â€˜What?’ Dropping his fork. ‘What are you talking about – I told you we were going. We’re going.’
    â€˜You’re acting all weird – what’s your damage?’
    â€˜I’m tired.’
    â€˜That’s not it.’
    Big sigh. Francie you’re such a child. ‘I had to pawn some stuff, okay?’
    â€˜What stuff?’
    â€˜The lens pack, my flash … the Nikon.’
    â€˜Your gear?’
    â€˜Yeah.’
    â€˜But you loved that camera.’
    â€˜Yeah, well I pawned it at Oz’s.’
    â€˜Why the hell?’ She can feel her voice rising and she catches Lucy giving them a nasty look from a table over.
    â€˜For money – that’s why you pawn stuff, Francie.’
    â€˜But we got enough for the trip.’
    â€˜Yeah, for the trip, but that’s not enough.’ He’s been playing with the salt shaker, wiggling it like a little man across the tabletop, like this conversation isn’t worth anything. But she grabs his hand and the touch brings his eyes up.
    â€˜Why didn’t you pawn your stupid watch then?’
    He pulls his hand away and picks at that chintzy gold thing around his wrist. ‘It was my dad’s, Francie.’
    â€˜It’s not even real.’
    â€˜Francie.’
    A dumb thing to say, even she knows it. ‘We gotta get your gear back – we’ll just return the money.’
    â€˜Fuck it. Listen, Francie – ’ He reaches into his jacket pocket and comes out with a crumpled envelope, and his eyes are no window, but she can see he’s going to say something real and true for the first time in forever. But then he looks past her and the envelope disappears back into a pocket.
    â€˜Hey hey hey!’ This moment broken by Heck sliding into the booth next to her, already munching away on a slice of bacon he’s grabbed from the tabletop. ‘So