Read Online Turned to Stone by Jorge Magano - Free Book Online Page A

contrasts. Amanda wore a tight purple top that showed off her generous figure. Her body was abundant, but not obese, and passersby couldn’t help but look at her. Her calves showed beneath a floral skirt that contrasted with her tall leather boots. A lock of dark blonde hair fell provocatively over her right eye, forcing her to blow it out of her face every few steps. Paloma, on the other hand, cut a darker figure. Her hair was bobbed, and she wore a gray suit and black raincoat.
    “Were you going to see your mom?” Amanda asked, releasing Paloma from her embrace.
    “No, she’s eating with a friend today. And you’re going to do the same.”
    “What?”
    “Eat with a friend.”
    They crossed the Paseo del Prado arm in arm and strolled past the touristy souvenir shops toward a restaurant they liked near Plaza del Emperador Carlos V. It was the definitive place for platos combinados and menús del día , where Japanese tourists could be found eating paella at all hours of the day. A waiter in a white shirt and black apron greeted them and showed them to a table surrounded by a semicircular couch. When Paloma took off her sunglasses Amanda’s suspicions were confirmed. “So you were fine, huh?” she said, noting the mascara marks around Paloma’s honey-colored, unusually reddened eyes.
    Paloma gave her a sad smile and shrugged her shoulders.
    “Do me a favor and let’s have a stiff drink before lunch, like in Sex and the City .” Amanda waved the waiter over. “Excuse me, do you make cosmos?”
    He smiled. “Vodka, Cointreau, and lemon juice.”
    “And cranberry.”
    “Of course. Two?”
    Paloma nodded and the waiter disappeared into the forest of tables, occupied primarily by pink-skinned tourists who had burned in the Spanish sun. Only when he’d completely disappeared from sight did Amanda turn her attention back to Paloma.
    “So tell me. Is this about Oscar Preston?”
    Paloma nearly choked at the sound of that name. “Who? That bastard? No, this has nothing to do with that creep.”
    “Well, start from the beginning then. How did the meeting go?”
    “Honestly, it could’ve gone better. Ricardo Bosch told me a bunch of stuff he’s said to me before: he’s delighted with me, he’s bearing in mind my doctorate, my thesis, and my master’s in museum studies—”
    “And your command of English and Italian,” Amanda added.
    “He didn’t say anything about that, but I’m sure he’s taking that into consideration, too. No doubt he’s taking it all into account, including my decision making, my teamwork, my art courses in Rome . . .”
    “Honey, that’s great. So what’s the problem?”
    “Well, now, after a month of making us jump through hoops to compete for the new deputy director position, he suddenly says this isn’t an easy decision and he’s going to need to assess our research credentials.”
    “You’ve lost me. What does that mean?”
    “He’s going to take into consideration the articles and studies we’ve published in journals and catalogues. And that’s a real bitch for me. Preston has published at least a dozen.”
    “You’ve published some, too, I’ve read them.”
    “Nothing compared to what Preston has done. But wait for it: Ricardo also wants us to submit an original piece of research at the end of November. One that, in his words, ‘will serve as a dissertation.’ I mean, what does he think? That we’re still at school or something?”
    “But honey, that sounds exciting. Do you know what you’re going to write about?”
    “Yeah, I have an idea . . .” For a moment Paloma stared ahead blankly, as if someone had pushed “Pause” on her thoughts. Then her expression hardened. “But I’m worried that there isn’t any point. Preston kisses Ricardo’s ass every chance he gets, and Ricardo likes that. I’d be too ashamed to do that. It’d make me feel sick.”
    “Just be patient. Ricardo’s not stupid. I bet he realizes what’s going