Free Bad to the Bone by Melody Mayer Page A

All the work wasn't even close to being finished. In fact, Jorge was supposed to arrive at any time with some sort of addendum clause to the lease that he wanted the landlord to sign.
    Her parents were also supposed to stop by later. This was one of their rare days off from the Goldhagens. They were going to visit some friends of theirs from Mexico who worked downtown at a clothing manufacturing company, and then come to Century City to see Esme's new place of business.
    It would be good to have Jorge on hand, she thought. Herparents, Alberto and Estella—especially her mother—had been dead set against her leaving school to start her own business, even after she promised to get her GED. They did not work as hard as they did for her to be a high school dropout, they'd told her. She was such a smart girl, she'd gotten excellent grades, she would get a scholarship and be the first person in their family to go to college. How could she throw all of that away?
    Esme felt a gnawing of guilt in the pit of her stomach. For the zillionth time she questioned the decision she'd made. She was letting her parents down. But opportunity had knocked, and she couldn't turn it away. At the rate she was going, by the time she was twenty-one, instead of graduating from college, she'd have enough money saved to buy her parents a fabulous house far, far away from Echo Park. Then, she told herself, they would finally appreciate the choice she had made.
    Anyway, her parents loved Jorge. Maybe having him here when they showed up would deflect some of the criticism that was inevitably coming her way.
    Once Luanna had the cards, Esme walked her to the front door of her studio. It was two-fifteen, which meant she had a few hours before she had to go back to the Goldhagens' to take the twins swimming. After that, she was to meet Steven at the Kodak Theatre, where the performers for the Rock Music Awards were rehearsing, to go over exactly what Esme, Lydia, and Kiley would be doing to help out.
    “Thanks again,” Luanna said, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from her yellow pin-tucked Michael Kors shirt. “I definitely will send some people your way.”
    “Great,” Esme replied with a smile. “It was a pleasure tomeet you. I hope you love your tattoo.” She had the post-tattoo gab down cold. Would Luanna come through with some referrals? Who knew? But it made sense to be polite to everyone. You couldn't charge what she charged and be a surly bitch. Esme had learned that in show business, everyone acted as if they were your best friends, even though tomorrow they wouldn't remember your name.
    No sooner had Esme shown Luanna out, and deposited the twelve hundred dollars in a wall safe Jorge had insisted she install, that there were three quick rings on her buzzer telling her Jorge was downstairs at the locked glass door. She buzzed him through, then checked herself in the small waiting-room mirror—she wore a sleeveless red ruffled silk top with a cinched elastic waist, tight jeans, and high, strappy sandals from a boutique on Melrose. No more shopping at the “All Shoes $9.99” store in the Echo for her. She went to let her friend in.
    He bounded out of the elevator wearing a backpack—Esme knew it had to be weighty with textbooks—and carrying a laptop computer in a black case. He wore black jeans and a black T-shirt under an open red shirt, and there was a grin spread across his face. He'd recently had his hair trimmed, Esme noted. He looked good. On the skinny side, yes, but there were muscles under that shirt, she knew. He wasn't nearly as tall as Jonathan, nor as traditionally handsome, and yet somehow he managed to be a chick magnet—her girlfriends were always hitting on Jorge.
    “Here for a tattoo?” she joshed.
    “No ink on this skin,
chica
. No tats is the new cool.”
    “I hope you're wrong—that would put me out of business.” She opened the door; he followed her inside. “How's college?”Jorge was a year ahead of her in