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bars or fetched glasses of water. Given away her favorite pair
of shoes because a new girl had come in and didn’t even have
a single pair.
Dani wasn’t made of stone. She couldn’t pretend to be, and
she didn’t want to be. However, she’d been careful in the past.
Careful with her feelings. Careful to keep her guard up. She’d
seen women she thought were pretty. Beautiful even.
Physically attractive. She’d never acted on it. She’d been with
people before, but she couldn’t really call it dating. Maybe
companionship for two lonely people coming together for a
short time, until that burden of loneliness eased. She’d never
deceived anyone into thinking she was ready for strings, and
she’d never let herself be deceived in turn.
When the bell dinged at the front, Dani tucked away the
papers in the small back cabinet, grabbed her deck of cards,
and was ready when her first client of the day walked in.
She spent the rest of the day throwing herself into work.
That was something she could understand and deal with.
When she locked up the shop at six, she was hot and sticky
even in the air-conditioned store, and two minutes away from
exhaustion.
Normally, Dani was glad to go around back and climb the
stairs up to her apartment. She loved seeing Mr. Pickles at the
end of the day. Emily’s parked car behind the building told
Dani she was still there and walking into the apartment
knowing that someone else was up there felt strange. Really,
really strange.
She found Emily in the kitchen, a thin plastic drop sheet
spread over the table, tubes of paints and brushes scattered
over the surface, a canvas set up on the tabletop easel.
