I laughed. “Hell no! Although I’ve done that too! I do paintings of things and places and sell them to the tourists.” Her body language took a major change.
“Can you paint me?” she whispered.
I sat and looked at her from head to toe as she modestly held the beach towel over her bikini. She assumed that I didn’t think she was pretty enough, but I was trying to evaluate if I could do her justice with a paintbrush.
I sat and spun my spinel ring around on my finger, wondering if I had been played. It didn’t make sense. Too many things looked like she wanted a future with me. I opened the fridge, got out another beer, and sat on my front porch.
“Hey, Louis, you crazy man! How ya do’n?” said my shirt shop neighbor.
“Ahhh, little bit lonely. A little bit confused,” I said.
“What? That Russian girl?”
“Yeah, but she’s Ukrainian,” I corrected.
“She’s definitely hot! I saw her getting on a private jet up at the airport the other day.”
“Oh yeah?” I said.
“Yeah! She was the only passenger, and they left as soon as she boarded. The passport dude even came to the plane and stamped her passport at the bottom of the steps. Man, you know how to pick them. Beautiful and richer’n hell too. Hey man, I gotta go close up the shop! Take it easy!” He ran back across the street.