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I tapped my finger on the arm of the rickety chair, trying to ignore the fact that my butt was slowly sinking toward the patchy grass beneath it. I would not give him the satisfaction of getting up. Especially since he turned back to look at me before he disappeared around the side of his house.
I resisted the urge to wave at him even as grass tickled the edge of my shorts.
Once he was out of view, I popped out of the chair and clambered up into Skully the Skoolie. Named mostly for one of my all-time favorite characters on this spinning rock we called home. Dana Scully from X-Files didn’t sound like she should be my favorite since she was very studious and analytical, but I just loved watching her try to block Mulder’s wild and impulsive mind.
I was more of a Fox Mulder myself.
But I appreciated Scully’s bright and beautiful brain. And she was a kickass redhead like me.
Most people were watching teen dramas, but my sister and I had lived for older tv shows and 80s movies. Mostly so we’d have something to talk to our parents about. We didn’t have much in common with the very studious Dr. and Dr. Monaghan.
Some of my best memories with my mother were when I was sick and we’d watch TV Land with fat bowls of cheap ramen noodles.
I tapped the trio of crystals dangling above my…bed. Ish? My newest friend Luna had put together the crystal arrangement for me. I needed all the good mojo and luck to get this rolling rust heap into shape. I’d managed to create a makeshift bed with some foam for padding and my favorite sleeping bag. RIP to the former seams that were now joined with some flannel I’d found at a craft store. It was surprisingly comfortable.
I’d slept on far worse.
My bed was a problem for another day. For now, I needed to work on my next order to be able to pay for upgrades.
I’d showered and gotten myself together at my sister’s place. I really needed to figure out the whole running water and electricity thing, but that was for another,anotherday.
Or until I got hungry later.
Tabitha Monaghan—soon to be McNeill—was usually sleeping at her man’s house. And until she gave up her lease, I would be using and abusing her apartment.
Not that she noticed.
I could see why. Her Hot Cop manslice was very distracting. As were the dogs and the big old baby belly making her act a bit more like me with all my scatteredness. She was getting pretty huge and an interesting mix of terror and chaos churned around her most days.
Terror I understood.
The baby thing made me antsy, but I would be here for my sister, no matter what. I’d been out of her life for far too long. How itchy the baby made me wasmyproblem, not hers.
Not to mention the joy she radiated that was still foreign to me. Being tied down sounded scary as hell.
And so did the stretch marks. I had enough of those on my boobs, thanks.
Okay, so they weren’t much to speak of, but they’d arrived practically fully formed the summer I turned fourteen—even itty bitty titties had stretch marks.
I dropped on the makeshift bed. I wiggled around until I found a less lumpy spot to cushion my butt. I really needed to get on finding a mattress that fit in here.
I pulled my iPad out of the charging station I’d built into the wall. I didn’t have as many bills as the average bear, but I still needed to work for a living. Even if that included drawing monster peen.
Hidden in a brightly embroidered bag hanging on a hook was my drawing glove. Digital artwork was definitely not where I’d seen myself going when I left Syracuse after high school. And yet here I was.
I’d always loved to draw weird anime characters through high school and that had morphed into my own style over the years. I’d been an early adopter of the online marketplaces, and I’d sold a lot of commissioned sketches to put food on the table.
An inordinate number of Castiel and Dean Winchester fan drawings had been the bulk of my orders for a long time. I could see the appeal in Dean for sure. He had that rugged and yet pretty aspect that was catnip for most women, including me.
I also found it hilarious that cis-het women loved the idea of him boning an angel. Who was I to keep them from their fantasies? Those drawings had become a lucrative corner of my portfolio.
And that had transitioned into my current portfolio. Monster porn—err, romance.
I loved my damn job.
A few sketched lines for a warmup turned into a strong jawline and full lips. A slightly crooked nose led up to a strong brow line.
Smirky lips with just a hint of fang decided to make themselves known. Happy accidents always ramped up my excitement. A few taps later, I sharpened the lines a little and made the eyebrows far more arched than a regular man.
