Reborn at Eighteen The Billionaire's Second Chance novel Chapter 134

Chapter 134

“These are amazing,” Yuki said, looking at herself on paper. “You’re

going to make so much money.”

I wanted to believe her.

Sunday morning, the alarm went off at four–thirty AM. My whole

body ached. I hadn’t slept well. The hospital visit, the confrontation

with Julian, the plan for today–it all churned in my mind.

Raven met me in the kitchen. She looked as tired as I felt.

“Ready?” she asked.

“No. But let’s go anyway.”

We took the subway to Williamsburg. The train was nearly empty at

this hour–just a few overnight shift workers and one homeless man

sleeping across three seats. I held my art box on my lap. Raven

carried the folding table Diego had lent us.

The market at East River State Park was just opening when we

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arrived. The sky was still dark. Vendors were unloading trucks, setting

up tents. The air smelled like coffee and bagels from the food stalls.

The woman at the registration table looked us up and down. “First

time?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Booth fee is sixty dollars. Cash only. You get a ten–by–ten space. No

refunds if it rains.”

I counted out the money. It was cash Diego had lent me. I’d pay him

back after today. I had to.

The woman handed me a map with our spot marked. “You’re in the

back corner. Near the bathrooms. Not the best spot, but that’s what’s

left.”

We dragged our supplies to the corner. The space was small. The

smell from the bathrooms was noticeable. But there was good natural

light.

Raven and I set up the table. I arranged my sample sketches on the

easel. She taped the business cards to the table edge.

“How do we get people to stop?” she asked.

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“I don’t know. Smile?”

She laughed. It was a nervous sound. “Okay. Smiling. I can do that.”

The market opened at eight. For the first hour, people walked past

our booth without stopping. They looked at the paintings, then kept

walking. I tried not to feel discouraged.

My feet hurt from standing. My stomach growled–we’d skipped

breakfast to save money. Raven kept rearranging the business cards,

trying to look busy.

Then a couple stopped. They were young, maybe mid–twenties. The

girl had pink hair and a nose ring.

“Did you do these?” she asked, pointing at my samples.

“Yes.”

She leaned closer. Studied the portrait of Yuki I’d done last night.

“This is really good. Like, really good. Can you do us? Together?”

My heart jumped. “Yes. Of course. Thirty dollars for a basic sketch,

fifty for detailed.”

“Detailed,” she said immediately.

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I set up my charcoal and paper. They sat close together on the bench

Raven had found. The girl rested her head on her boyfriend’s

shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her.

I started drawing. My hand moved fast. I’d done this a thousand times

in my past life–quick sketches to warm up before real painting

sessions. But I’d never done it for money. Never for strangers.

It felt different. Good different.

Fifteen minutes later, I showed them the finished sketch. The girl

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