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I can’t tell her. The idea of who he is makes my stomach sick, and more tears fall down my cheeks. “No one of importance,” I lie.
“Then why are you crying? If he hurt you, I will kill him.”
“I’m just being emotional. I guess I built up the idea of him being someone completely average and hoped for that life too.”
“Katrina, I love you. But you will never be average. Your family will never be normal either. And despite all that, you are amazing, kind, and loving. It’s time you accept all those facts and move past this phase you’re in.”
“I’m the black sheep of a mafia family. Kindness gets you nowhere. And being so-called ‘amazing’ is a sugar-coated way to say stop crying.” I look out the window, watching the streetlights blur together as we move toward our side of town. My tone is low and full of defeat. “Can you drop me off at my gallery? I don’t want to see anyone right now.”And I can use all this emotion to create some new paintings.
My sister glances over at me, looking uncertain. “Are you sure being by yourself is the answer?”
“Please?”
She nods, still unsure, and I can see she wants to say something else. Finally, she does. “You’re not using again, are you?”
“I promise, Luna. I will never touch any drug again.”
It’sbeentwoweekssince Luna picked me up, and I wish I could control my thoughts better.Hecontinues to seep into my mind regularly, with no warning. Like now, as my cheeks flush from a memory of Demetri eating me out.
The guy currently in front of me takes it as a compliment to him, as he flashes me a wide smile. Heisa nice blank canvas to work on, but he does nothing for me. “Can you paint my side here?” he asks.
“Have anything in mind?” I prompt, moving my body paints around on the tray.
Tonight, I’m at the hottest new club, and they’re paying me to do body paintings on the staff. It’s amazing how shirts get tied up shorter—if not completely taken off—the cleavage comes out, and the skirts rise when people want to be made into a piece of art. All the waitresses are fully done. They ended up down to their panties, and bandage tape over their nipples. Regulations of the business kept them from getting completely naked, I guess.
“How about you work your magic, and I’ll return the favor after?” he flirts.
“I’m married.” I flash my fake—albeit a real diamond—wedding ring. It’s easier to work in this kind of crowd if everyone thinks you’re off the market.
The back of my neck prickles, and I look around me, a shiver slithering down my spine. I swallow my nerves and focus on the paint, even though anxiety still rocks through me. I hate the feeling. Recently, it doesn’t take much for anything to knock me off-balance.
“You’re going to have to take off your shirt,” I tell him, since he’s still holding it up, showing off his toned stomach.
“If you change your mind—” He pauses as his shirt goes over his head and he reaches into his back pocket. “—here’s my card.” I nod for him to put in on my little table. I have no intention of ever contacting him, but sometimes it’s easier to accept a number than to fight it.
I begin my painting, and the music fades away. It’s the best thing about painting. Everything disappears, and I’m relaxed. Before I’m done, I look to see who’s next, and I see my brother. Before my string of bad luck, I don’t think Luca had ever seen me paint. Now, he just happens to be in the area whenever I’m working.
“Hi, Luca.” I sigh, not that he can hear it over the song that’s playing. “Looking for a new tattoo idea?” I wiggle my eyebrows.
“No, I was just in the area and thought I would stop by.”
“Feel free to stay and be amazed.”
I signal for the girl next in line to step up. “Can you do something around my belly button?” she asks, rolling up her already cropped top.
“This part of town has a lot of action happening tonight,” Luca comments.
I keep my focus on the girl in front of me. “Pretty typical when a new club opens.”
“You meet the owners?”
“Just the manager.” I dip my brush into the paint as my mind races with ideas.
“All right then. Have a good night.”
I give him a head tilt for a goodbye as I paint my first stroke around the girl’s belly button, and the night soon flashes by as I lose myself in the designs I create.
“Do you need a break?” one of the waitresses asks.
