A Reason To Grow

1. Careena

One

Careena

THREE MONTHS BEFORE

“What do you mean I can’t use this building anymore?” I stare at Arthur Kent, straining to dial my glower back to a normal and socially acceptable glare. “The rent is paid on time. I keep the rooms clean. You even said doing the self-defense classes there was fine.”

“Yes.” Arthur pools his chubby brown fingers together. His black eyes flit on everything in his cramped and cheese-scented office but me. He looks like the Creole version of the little kid from Up. I liked that kid. I don’t like Arthur right now.

“Then why are you doing this?”

“Because your contract’s up and I am choosing not to renew with you as is my choice.”

I see right through him. “You have another renter. Don’t you?”

“Careena—”

“Who is it? How much more is he offering to pay you?”

“That’s none of your—”

“I can’t believe this.” I shoot out of my chair and pace the office. “Honestly, Arthur, the economy is in the toilet right now.” My voice rises as I buck the wall and spin. “Everybody has a camera phone so imagine how photographers like me struggle to keep afloat.”

“I understand, but if you'd just—”

“People think we sit around at the park and snap photos of ducks and couples in love for inspiration, but that ship has sunk, Arthur. It’s the freaking Titanic. This weekend alone, I shot a bratty sweet sixteen party and spent three hours on my feet taking pictures for a graduation ceremony.”

“CAREENA!”

“What?”

Arthur pulls his collar away from his shirt. Sweat beads on his forehead. “If you'd let me finish…” he shoots me a disapproving stare that prompts an insane desire to flick my tongue out in response. I keep my tongue in my mouth and listen. “There might be a way.”

“Name it. Anything.”

“You can use the backroom as your photography studio.”

“The back…” I cough. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, it may need a little work but with some effort, you should be able to turn it around. It’s got lots of space and—here’s the best part—your rent would slice in half.”

My heartbeat flutters when I hear those words and, the atrocious dump in the back of my studio is looking better. I try not to let Arthur see his bait worked, but interest shines in my voice when I ask, “What’s the catch?”

He grins. It’s a smile that warns I won’t like what he says next. “You need the new owner’s permission to use it. Your customers will have to walk through his store to get to yours.” Arthur sees my expression and tacks on. “That’s until I get a new door installed.”

“Forget it.” I hike my purse strap over my shoulder. “I’ll call a lawyer. I’m sure I’m supposed to have advanced notice in things like this.”

“Wait! Wait!” Arthur scrambles out of his chair. His thick fingers surround mine. They are cold. “Think about it, Careena. The hassle of moving will cost thousands in time and money. Not to mention the loss of customers. You won’t find another building in this area with the price I’m offering.”

“I have my pride to think about.”

“It shouldn’t be too hard to convince the guy.” Arthur pats my hand. “You’re pretty enough.”

I snatch my hand back. Arthur insinuating I use my ‘pretty enough’ face and body to get what I want is annoying, but I’ll put up with it this once because a discount in rent would be a godsend. There’s a time and place to fight the good fight. I’ll educate Arthur on political correctness later.

“Give me the new owner’s information. I’ll get in contact with him.”

He sighs. “You made the right choice.”

“If I embarrass myself and he says no, I’ll take it out on you.”

Arthur chuckles nervously. “Got it.”

“Text me his address and phone number.” I wave to Arthur and head out of his office as my phone rings. I pick up. “Careena speaking. How can I help you?”

Someone snorts in my ear. “Tanner speaking. I’m looking for my sister. Is she around?”

I drop the professional tone. “What do you want? I’m busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Very funny. I’m hanging up.”

“Geez. Relax.” Tanner laughs. “Mom asked if you need a ride to the restaurant.”

“Restaurant? What restaurant?” I scramble through my mental calendar. “Were we supposed to meet at Sam’s place today?”

“We’re having lunch with Juan before he goes on tour, remember? Twelve o’clock at the Glenford Hotel near the airport?”

His words spark a memory. “I forgot.”

“I can tell.” Sounds like Tanner is smiling. “Are you going to ride up there?”

“Don’t be silly.” I head for my bike and unlock it. “I can’t ride ten miles up the highway.”

Mom mumbles in the background. Tanner responds to her and then says, “I’ll pick you up at your studio in fifteen minutes.”

“I’ll meet you there.” I slide my phone into my pocket and swing on the bike. My car is in the shop, but I love riding. Not only is it a great source of exercise, it’s also good for the environment. If I wasn’t late for everything, I would ride all the time.

I sprint down the street. The wind blows my hair away from my face. I should have put my hair up before I started riding, but Tanner distracted me. Now my curls will frizz. I tighten my grip on the handlebars and pedal faster, intent on arriving quickly so I can fix myself up before my brother arrives.

The sun bakes the top of my head. Pedestrians fill the sidewalk, prancing into the bicycle lane. I veer into traffic, struggling to avoid the cars rushing past and the people dipping into my path.

Colorful shops line the block. Palm trees wave from fenced in yards, their leaves arching toward the puffy white clouds in the blue sky. Huge black speakers mounted outside the music store blast soca music. The bass thumps so hard my heart vibrates in response.

My studio rises in the distance. It’s a sprawling, white square building with a huge billboard atop the flat, concrete roof. Just up the block are three high schools and the local junior college. It’s prime territory, and I hate that I have to give it up to some prick with more money than me.

At least you’ll have the backroom.

The thought does little to console. Pushing Arthur’s upsetting news from my mind, I open the front door and steer my bicycle inside. The shutters are drawn, but I can make out the large desk in the foyer and the wooden chairs pushed against the wall where my framed photos are on display.

I stalk past the waiting room and slam into the bathroom. Pulling my purse over my head, I set it on the sink and stare at my reflection. As predicted, the wind assaulted my hair, but it’s not beyond repair. I like to leave my curls out in all their frizzy, wavy glory, but I scoop my hair back and tie it into a bun.

I scoff at my bulging brown forehead, wishing for the millionth time that I looked good in bangs. My face is a little too angular to be called ‘pretty’. My eyes are almond-shaped and topped by thin eyebrows. I've got plump lips, so it looks like I’m always pouting.

Lisa’s the beautiful one in our family with her brown skin, sultry eyes, and perfect hair that falls straight to her waist, but I’m not jealous. I like to think my features are too striking to be defined by traditional standards of beauty.

My phone lights up and vibrates so hard it nearly dives off the counter. I catch it before it smashes to the ground. A message from Tanner pops on screen. He’s here. I give my reflection a nod of approval and jog outside.

“Took you long enough.” Tanner grins at me as he leans against his fancy rental car. He’s dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a white shirt. His pale face is already turning pink. My little brother can’t stand in the sun for one second without reddening.

“Just open the door.” I pat him on the cheek as I near him. “You look handsome.”

“I know.” He helps me in and jogs around the hood to take the driver’s seat. “Why did you sound upset earlier?”

I tell him everything that happened, and Tanner curses Arthur and his mysterious renter all the way to the restaurant. By the time we park beside Dad’s beat-up van, my stomach is splitting from laughter. If I said the words, Tanner would do everything in his power to help me.

Just knowing that is enough.