That Night | JenLisa FF

Part 9

Jennie smiled awkwardly at Lisa for what felt like the billionth time. The waitress finally arrived with their food. As much as she loved looking at Lisa, she couldn't wait for this to end. It was hell. Neither one of them knew what to say. Their eyes would catch and then flit away. They sucked at inane chitchat.

"Looks good," Jennie said, immediately feeling like a moron.

"Uh, yeah," Lisa agreed, studying her plate with inordinate attention.

Jennie took a bite of the salad. It felt like sawdust in her mouth. She forced herself to chew and chew until she could finally swallow. She washed it down with a mouthful of water.

"So," she said, sounding anything but casual, "you're looking for new representation."

"I am," Lisa concurred.

"Well, uh," Jennie said with a nervous smile, "not that it's any of my business, but I was wondering what went wrong with your last agent. I'd hate to repeat the mistake."

Lisa smiled tightly. "We had a personal falling out and she just put me and my career on the back burner."

"Oh," Jennie said quietly. "Well, I'm sorry."

For some reason, Jennie's gentle nature unnerved her. She seemed so genuinely reluctant to do anything to cause her pain, anything to make her feel awkward. Lisa couldn't understand. For the last ten years, she'd mentally painted her as the temptress, the seductress, the cold-hearted bitch. That image didn't mesh with the quiet, rather withdrawn woman in front of her.

"So, if we're going to sign a contract, I suppose we should discuss specifics," she said casually.

Jennie perked up, smiling as she looked at her. "You want me to represent you?" she asked. "But I haven't even given you, my sales pitch."

Lisa shrugged. "I don't need to hear it," she said. "I'm willing to gamble. If you want to stop by my place this evening, I can show you, my work."

Jennie's smile died slowly. "I can't come by," she said.

"Oh, well, yeah, of course," Lisa said hastily. "I didn't mean to imply that you wouldn't have plans."

"I do," Jennie said nervously, "have this thing, that is. Nothing exciting. Mac and cheese and some Netflix, I'm sure."

"I see," Lisa said slowly. She should have known better than to trust Jackson's information. Of course, Jennie wasn't single.

Jennie knew exactly what she thought and decided that there would never really be a good time to broach this subject. Better now than later. "I have a date," she said.

Lisa nodded; her jaw clenched tightly.

"With my daughter."

Lisa couldn't form a coherent thought for at least twenty seconds. "Your daughter?" she finally managed to parrot dumbly.

Nodding, Jennie said, "Chiquita. We have a standing date every Sunday night. Junk food and Netflix."

Taking a deep breath, Lisa said, "I ... didn't know you had a child."

Felling like a teenager caught necking, Jennie blushed. This was ridiculous. Why was she blushing? "Yeah," she said, "Canny's nine. She's a great kid."

Lisa didn't have a clue what to say. In the million scenarios she'd dreamed up for Jennie while she was absent from her life, none of them ever included children. But there it was. Jennie had a child. Pete's child. The knowledge ate at her. She took a deep breath and released it slowly. "I heard that Pete was living in Miami," Lisa said, testing the water. "Does Canny see him much?"

Jennie bristled visibly. "Pete isn't allowed within a hundred feet of Chiquita," she ground out.

Lisa's eyes widened, but she didn't make any response. Obviously, there was no danger that Jennie was still pining over her husband. Something had happened. Something very, very bad. "I don't know how busy you are, but if you wanted to come by any night this week, I should have time," she said. "You could bring Canny," she tacked on quickly.

"I, uh, I'm not sure," Jennie said. "But I'll ask Canny."

*****

"So how was lunch?" Canny asked cautiously, turning her attention away from 'Avatar The Last Airbender'.

Jennie took a deep breath, looking at her daughter. Canny was a beautiful child with long, curly chestnut hair that defied all attempts to tame it and brown eyes framed by lashes so long and thick they gave her an unearthly appearance. "It was all right," she said cautiously.

Canny ventured closer, cuddling up against Jennie on the couch. Jennie's arms automatically went around her daughter, pulling her closer. They watched several more minutes of the movie in silence before Canny asked, "So, was it a date?"

Jennie considered her reply carefully. She had run from Pete before Canny was three. Since her, there had been no male in their lives. Jennie had spent the last six years rigorously segregating herself and Chiquita from men. It had been rash, to be certain, but Jennie had done what she needed to do to keep her daughter safe and to get her own life on track. She didn't regret her actions. Though, it did now put her in an awkward position with the arrival of Lisa in her life, and consequently Canny's. "It wasn't a date," she said. "she's an artist and we had a meeting to discuss the possibility of me serving as her agent."

"What's an agent do?"

"As Lisa's agent, I would help put together exhibitions of her work, help get her displayed in some prominent galleries, find buyers for her work and broker the sales. Basically, in exchange for a percentage of the profits, I would make it so all she had to worry about was painting. I'd handle all of the business."

Canny considered this for a moment. "That seems like a fair trade."

"Hopefully."

"So, are you her agent now?"

Jennie smiled down at her child. "Yes."

They got through another ten minutes of the movie before Canny asked, "So do you like her?"

Given that Canny had only the foggiest memories of Pete and that Jennie hadn't dated anyone since then, she wasn't exactly sure what to say. "Lisa and I are friends," she replied.

"Do you want to be more than friends?"

Jennie looked at Canny, nonplussed. "Watch the movie."