: Meg Rosenthal
: The Wingman
: Warren Publishing, Inc
: 9781966343400
: The Wingman
: 1
: CHF 8.30
:
: Erzählende Literatur
: English
: 286
: kein Kopierschutz
: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet
: ePUB
Talia Scott is a spontaneous Southern girl whose dream is to become an artist, despite her family's innate skepticism at her career choice. When she leaves her small town to attend Bridgeport College on the other side of the country, she meets Archie Morgan: a quirky, thoughtful boy who quickly becomes her best friend-and wingman. But Talia is hiding a secret that even she wants to run from ... a secret that drives her out of Bridgeport after graduation, thinking she can protect Archie (and herself) from her own inner turmoil and struggling mental health.  Now, two years later, Talia is back. This time, she is on a mission to leave a coast-to-coast street art legacy, starting in the college town that first nurtured her love of art in the classroom. But she's going to need some help from her wingman.   Returning to Bridgeport means Talia must face her biggest fear: letting Archie and her friends 'see' and 'hear' the real her-the person she has suppressed for so long. Can Talia and Archie face their demons, forgive, and finally understand each other? Or will their pasts continue to haunt their futures?

Meg Rosenthal lives in Charlotte, North Carolina in a house decorated with vintage thrifts and fake plants. Her debut novel, The Right Words, was published in 2022. When she's not moonlighting as a novelist, Meg can be found working her day job as a professional horseback rider and trainer. She is an Enneagram Type 3 (The Achiever), has five tattoos, and never turns down a coffee with cream and Splenda.

Archie

Present Day

I checked my phone again, making sure I was at the right address from Talia’s napkin. Saving her contact in my phone again last night felt weird. The number was different, but the name was still the same. JustTalia.

I looked up at the numbers printed above the door and confirmed that I was, indeed, at theright place.

When Talia told me last night that this meeting was to convince me to help her with her return, I didn’t know what to expect. But I certainly hadn’t expected walking into The Glass Menagerie, a literal glass building downtown usually reserved for museum exhibitions. I glanced quickly down at my sneakers, and a brief spell of anger whipped through me that Talia hadn’t prepped me for what Ishould’ve worn.

“Oh, hold the door,” her very recognizable voice chirped as I was opening it.

I started to cut her a hard glance, but the bitterness melted when I saw her. She was wearing a black dress. It left her shoulders bare but covered her neck and hit her legs mid-thigh. She paired the dress with black boots that covered her knees. Her dark hair was coiled at the base of her neck, with several pieces escaping confinement and framing her face. Her light-blue eyes were stark against thethick eyeliner.

“Are you going to go in or going to the gym?” some guy dressed in a suit asked, eyeing my shortsand T-shirt.

“Oh, um, s-sorry,” I stuttered. I guess I forgot I was holding the door because it closed right in theman’s face.

Talia stifled a laugh and lookedaway, smiling.

The guy muttered a few choice words that I didn’t register because I was still looking at Talia as a small crowd approached the building. I was like a salmon swimming upstream, moving toward Talia against the flow ofbustling people.

“Hi,” she said, beaming as we stoodalone outside.

“Why didn’t you tell me this was where wewere going?”

She didn’t miss a beat. She just stepped around me and reopened the door, gesturing for me to go through. “Because then you wouldn’thave come.”

I took one more look through the door at the glass walls and the shape of paintings hanging inside the building. An art show. Or a gallery. Or a museum. Maybe they were all the same thing. Since I wasn’t in the art program like Talia and Grady had been, I certainly didn’t know the difference. Regardless, Talia was partly right. I wouldn’t havewantedto come.