Текст книги "Painless"

Автор книги: Devon Hartford

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Текущая страница: 26 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

“That wolf is sure getting a lot of action with those pigs,” Christos said.

“It’s a regular porky orgy,” I smiled. “Whose house do you think they’ll go back to?”

“You mean the straw, wood, or brick house?”

“I think they’ll start with the straw house and bang their way through that and the wood one, until they end up in the brick one,” Christos chuckled. “Everyone knows a brick house is mighty mighty. No amount of bed shaking can bring a brick house down.”

“Gross!” I grimaced. “Are you suggesting that wolf is going to have sex with the three little pig sluts? And instead of blowing their houses down, they’re going to, uh, fuck the houses down?”

Christos grinned, “Hey, I didn’t paint the painting.”

“You’re terrible,” I frowned. “But, what I want to know is, why is the wolf wearing a red riding hood?”

“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “Either it’s the wolf who ate Little Red Riding Hood, or it’s a she wolf looking for some sow on bitch action.”

I grimaced. “That’s uber disgusting.”

“Again, I didn’t paint it.”

Christos and I walked to the next painting, arm in arm.

We circled the gallery, enjoying all the art and making more snappy comments about the imagery. One large painting had a crowd around it. Most of the people were talking rather than looking at the painting, so I tried to squeeze past them to get a better look at it.

“Excuse me,” I said as I slid behind some woman dressed entirely in white.

“Watch where you’re going!” she blurted.

I turned to apologize.

It was Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse.

Great. Why was she here?

She wore a white sleeveless keyhole midi dress. And I had to admit, she looked really good in it. The dress contrasted nicely against her tan skin and golden hair. I also noticed she had glittery lip gloss that sparkled almost as much as her diamond earrings. It should’ve looked cheesy, but it was subtle, and on her, it only enhanced. Tiffany was uniquely beautiful.

“Excuse you,” she sneered, holding her champagne glass out of the way. Champagne sloshed around it.

She was also uniquely bitchy. How did such an amazing bitch get into such an amazing body?

I noticed Tiffany was tipping her glass toward me and the champagne was a millimeter from spilling over the rim and pouring on my shoulder.

“Hey, Tiff,” Christos said, catching her hand with his, stopping the champagne waterfall. “You almost spilled your drink,” he said knowingly.

Tiffany frowned at him, staring into his eyes.

Christos stared back. He still held her hand. “Don’t, Tiffany,” he said quietly.

“Let go of me,” she demanded. Christos did and she threw her drink back, swallowing it in several large gulps. “I need another drink now that the riff raff is here.” She shouldered past me, bumping into me hard.

“Hey!” I blurted.

She ignored me.

I rubbed my shoulder where she’d slammed it with her own, “What’s she doing here?” I asked Christos.

“She always comes to Brandon’s openings.”

“Fantastic,” I sighed.

“Don’t worry about her. I’ll deal with her if she gets out of hand.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. She’ll probably get out of hand just so you have to deal with her. That’s what she did on her yacht New Year’s Eve. I saw the way she was drooling over you just now.” Did I sound jealous? I hoped only a little.

“Don’t worry about her, agápi mou. I’m not going to let Tiff come between you and me.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Christos reassured. “Nothing will ever split us apart.”

I winced as a wave of nausea sloshed through my stomach. The word “split” made me think of my parents’ impending divorce.

Christos gave me a compassionate look. “You’re thinking about your parents, aren’t you?”

I nodded mutely.

Christos wrapped a loving arm around me and pulled me into his chest. He kissed my forehead softly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be by your side, no matter what happens.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he murmured in my ear.

I inhaled the warm loving scent emanating from his chest as I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I love you so much, Christos Adonis Manos.”

“I love you too, Samantha Anna Smith,” he said as he kissed the top of my head.

“Get a room!” Romeo said as he came walking up. “And stop being such a cooch mooch, Christos. You’ve been hogging Sam for the last hour. There’s more than enough of her to go around.” He slid his arm between me and Christos and pulled me to his side for a quick hug.

“Cooch mooch?” I chuckled. “Are you calling me a cooch?”

“You have one, don’t you?” Romeo scoffed, releasing the hug.

“Yeah, but it’s not like I go around calling you a needless penis.”

“I’m hurt, Sam. Are you suggesting my good humor is not wanted?” He made a droopy, sad face, jutting out his lower lip. His shoulders sagged comically.

“Oh, Romeo,” I giggled, “Your penis is always needed.”

“That’s what I’m told,” Romeo grinned. “Do you want to swing by Kamiko’s painting and say hello? I’m afraid someone is going to kidnap her in that dress.”

“Awww, are you worried about her, Romeo?” I crooned.

“Of course I am, Sam. Who knew a cartoon character could be so sexy?” he quipped. “I’d do her if she had a dick.”

I winced. “Wrong image.”

“It would be a very feminine dick,” Romeo said. “Smallish with a tiny little pink wrapper.”

I winced wider. “Not helping!” I warned.

“What’s wrong with dicks, Sam? You like them, don’t you?”

I shook my head, and started laughing. “Romeo, please!”

“What?” Romeo looked at Christos for support.

“Don’t look at me!” Christos chuckled. “I’m all about mooching the cooch.”

I shook my head. “You guys have one track minds tonight. Did we walk into a brothel without me realizing it?”

“Everywhere I go,” Romeo quipped, “I bring the brothel.”

That was one hundred percent true.

* * *

Christos, Romeo, and I squeezed through the crowd toward Kamiko’s painting. At the moment, she stood alone. The show had been going long enough that most people had seen all of the art and were now busy socializing and getting drunk.

“Hey, guys,” Kamiko said nervously.

“How’s it going?” I asked. “Has your painting sold?”

“No,” she said, sounding disappointed.

I had noticed that most of the other paintings Christos and I had looked at had red dots on the placards, meaning they’d sold. I wasn’t about to tell Kamiko that.

“It seems like most of the paintings are selling,” Kamiko sighed.

Oh well. She’d figured it out herself. “Yours will sell,” I encouraged.

“Excuse me, guys,” Christos said, “I think I just saw a buddy of mine. I’m going to go say hey.”

“All right,” I said. “I’m going to stay here with Kamiko and Romeo.”

Christos kissed me on the cheek.

“Don’t I get a kiss?” Romeo smirked.

“Next time,” Christos winked at Romeo before walking into the crowd.

I turned back to Kamiko. She looked increasingly distraught.

“I don’t know what I was thinking entering my painting into the show,” she said. “Maybe my parents were right about me being pre-med. This art thing is hard.”

“Don’t be silly, Kamiko,” Romeo said dismissively. “Your art is awesome.”

Kamiko looked at him despondently.

I didn’t know what else to say.

Brandon squeezed through the crowd toward us, “Hey,” he said. He didn’t sound any more enthusiastic than the rest of us.

Disappointmentballs.

“How’s it going?” Brandon asked Kamiko.

She rolled her eyes. “The truth?”

Brandon nodded.

“My feet are killing me. I’ve been standing here two hours.”

Romeo said, “Kamiko, maybe you should unzip the front of your dress and say you come with the painting.”

Brandon chuckled, “While that might work, I’d like to think Kamiko’s art stands on it’s own two feet.”

“Yeah,” she said sarcastically, “but my painting isn’t wearing platform sandals,” she groaned. “I’m the one doing all the standing.”

“Maybe this will help,” Brandon said, leaning toward Kamiko.

I was suddenly sure he was going to kiss her.

Instead, he pressed a red dot onto the placard of her painting. “It sold,” he grinned.

“What?” Kamiko’s face lit up.

“For two thousand,” Brandon smiled.

Kamiko clapped her hands to her face. “Ohmygod! I don’t believe it!”

“Believe it,” Brandon chuckled. “I had two buyers. The price started at fifteen hundred, but they argued their way up to two grand before one of them bought it.”

“Wow!’ I smiled. “You’re a hot commodity tonight, Kamiko! Isn’t she hot, Brandon?” I hinted with zero subtlety.

“She’s on fire tonight,” Brandon smiled before walking off.

I looked at Kamiko and sighed, “I tried.”

“Oh,” Kamiko said, “I don’t care about Brandumb anymore.” She looked disappointed, but then her face lit up and she started hopping in her heels and clapping, “I sold my painting! I sold it, I sold it!”

Romeo smiled, “I knew you would, Kamiko. Come here, you cartoon character,” he said with genuine emotion. He gave Kamiko a huge hug. “I knew you could do it. Didn’t I tell you in high school you were going to be a big artist someday?”

Kamiko’s eyes were watering, “You did. You’ve always stood by me, you monocle wearing fairy.”

They laughed and hugged again.

Kamiko said, “Who needs a boyfriend when I have Romeo?”

“Hey, guys,” Christos said as he squeezed past people to get to us.

“Kamiko sold her painting!” I cheered.

“You did?” Christos beamed. “That’s awesome, Kamiko.”

Kamiko nodded, grinning at Christos.

A cute guy squeezed out from behind Christos. He wore a black suit vest over a gray button down shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, black skinny jeans, and a red bow tie checked in black. His thick dark hair was mussed and a sexy curl dipped over his brow. On each forearm he had a tattoo of a cartoon character. Both were from Adventure Time, Kamiko’s favorite cartoon. I totally recognized them from all the times I’d watched the show with her since school started last year.

Kamiko’s jaw dropped, and she gasped, “What the F? Why do you have tattoos of Marceline and Princess Bubblegum?”

Hipster guy frowned at Kamiko like she was completely stupid. “Duh. Because they rock,” he grinned.

His sexy smile had panty dropping potential for sure. Not that I noticed, but it went well with his emerald eyes. Again, not that I’d noticed.

But Romeo had. I think he was drooling at the guy.

“Hey, Samantha,” Christos said, “remember I told you back in November that a buddy of mine did storyboards for Adventure Time?”

I nodded.

“This is him,” Christos grinned. “Everybody, meet Dillon McKenna.”

Dillon shook hands with everybody.

Kamiko looked like a deer caught in headlights. I couldn’t decide if she was fan girling because Dillon worked on her favoritest cartoon ever, or because he was so handsome.

“Charmed,” Romeo said as they shook, sounding totally girlie.

I grinned to myself as I imagined Romeo and Kamiko fighting over Dillon.

Christos said, “Kamiko is a huge fan of Adventure Time. And she painted that painting,” he motioned toward it.

Dillon glanced at the painting, then did a double take. He stepped toward it and gave it a closer look. “Wow, you did this?”

Kamiko nodded nervously.

“This is tits,” he said, looking at it closely. “Why does the face on the koi fish look familiar?” he asked.

We all broke into a laugh, except for Dillon.

“Inside joke,” Kamiko smiled.

Dillon nodded as he scrutinized her painting further. “This is really good. What was your name again?”

“Kamiko Nishimura,” she grinned.

“You sure can paint, Kamiko,” he smiled.

“So,” Kamiko said nervously, “you storyboard for Adventure Time?”

“You watch the show?” Dillon asked.

“Totally! I have every season on DVD! I dressed up as Marceline last Halloween!” She sounded totally nervous.

“You do cosplay?” Dillon asked her, sounding impressed.

Kamiko nodded.

“Nice,” he said. “I made my own Ice King costume last Halloween. I have pics on my phone, if you want to see.”

“Shut up!” Kamiko grinned like it was Christmas.

Dillon nodded as he pulled out his phone, “But I’m going to make an Earl of Lemongrab costume for San Diego Comic Con this summer.”

“What! Do you have tickets?”

“Yeah, we get them because we work on the show,” he said as he thumbed through his phone.

“I can never get tickets to Comic Con!” Kamiko said. “It’s always sold out.”

“I can get you in this year, if you want,” Dillon smiled. “They always have extras at the office.”

Dillon handed his phone to Kamiko.

She examined the pictures. “Wow! Your Ice King costume rocks! You made it yourself?”

Dillon smiled a huge grin and nodded. “Totally.”

Turning to me and Christos, Romeo said, “I think we need to leave those two alone. Kamiko’s eyes have turned into candy hearts, or something equally juvenile.”

“I think they’re little pink smiley faces right now,” Christos chuckled.

Christos, Romeo, and I all smiled at each other while we slowly retreated, leaving Kamiko and Dillon to geek out about Adventure Time, cosplay, and the San Diego Comic Con.

* * *

CHRISTOS

The DJ turned up the volume as the crowd grew more boisterous. People had to talk loud to be heard, enhancing the nightclub vibe.

I don’t know why I hadn’t thought to introduce Kamiko to Dillon sooner. They were perfect for each other.

Samantha demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me your Adventure Time friend was so hot? And perfect for Kamiko?”

I frowned, “Are you reading my mind?”

“What?” she asked, confused.

“Never mind,” I grinned. “Anyway, I guess I had other things distracting me back then.” I gave her a knowing look and leaned down to kiss her lips.

Romeo grunted, “Somebody get me a bucket. There’s so much true love around here tonight, I’m going to puke.”

“Oh,” Samantha said compassionately, “I’m sorry Romeo. Christos, do you have any hot steampunk friends for Romeo?”

“I’ll have to check,” I smiled.

Brandon came walking up. “How are you all?” he smiled. “Enjoying the show?”

“Great show, Brandon,” Samantha said.

I think her mood had improved ever since Kamiko had sold her koi painting. I knew Samantha was trying to keep a game face about her parents’ split, but you could only fake so much. Her guts were probably flip flopping every sixty seconds morning, noon, and night. I know mine had when my mom had left my dad over a decade ago.

Fuck, my guts still knotted when I thought about my mom.

(mom)

“Thank you,” Brandon smiled his stock Mr. Pleasant smile. “Christos, can I talk to you for a few moments?”

“Sure,” I said. I raised my eyebrows at Samantha and Romeo.

“Let’s go look around, Sam,” Romeo said. He pulled Samantha off into the crowd.

“What up, Brandon?” I asked.

“I wanted to check in about your progress on your paintings. Care to take a stroll in the sculpture garden?”

I nodded.

We walked out back. The sculpture garden wasn’t quite as crowded as the inside of the gallery, and it was outside so we had a vague sense of privacy in the hedges mazing around under the starlight. Brandon was all about appearances, so taking me back here meant he had something to say that was going to irritate either him or me.

When we were secluded, he asked, “How’s that portrait of Isabella coming along? Did you make the changes like Stanford Wentworth suggested?”

I chuckled. As if.

“What?” Brandon smiled.

Did I tell Brandon now that I’d destroyed the painting of Isabella in a fit of rage? Or let him find out when it was noticeably absent from my solo show? Fuck it. I didn’t feel like dancing tonight. “I’ve decided to go in a different direction for the show.”

Brandon narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

“I’m trashing the idea of using models. It wasn’t working for me.”

“I thought they were looking pretty good.”

“You heard Wentworth,” I chuckled. “You were there. He said the paintings were lifeless.”

“I could sell them,” Brandon scoffed.

“You could sell a car to a canary.”

Brandon frowned, “Why would a canary want a car? They have wings.”

“Exactly.”

Brandon dismissed my comment. “Christos, you and I have known each other a long time.”

 I nodded.

“I’m trying to build your career,” he said.

I said, “But I don’t want a career painting models I don’t give a shit about.”

“Beautiful women sell, Christos. They never go out of style.”

I arched an eyebrow and nodded at him.

“At any rate,” he continued, “I can’t build your career if I don’t have any paintings to sell. Here’s a suggestion. We sell the nudes you have now next month, at your solo show. Next year, we transition you into more meaningful subject matter. The important thing is we keep your momentum going. I have fifteen possible buyers lined up for your paintings. I even have one for the Isabella portrait. I don’t care what Stanford Wentworth said, I can get us one-twenty-five K for it.”

Whoops. I could use $125,000. Nothing like attorney’s fees to drain your wallet down to zero. Fucking Hunter Blakeley.

Sadly, if I dug the tatters of the Isabella painting out of the dump now, I don’t think Brandon would get fifty cents for it.

He asked, “How much longer do you think it would take for you to finish fifteen paintings?”

Brandon needed a reality check. He was under the impression I’d been busily working away in the studio these past few months, cranking out more paintings of his L.A. models. I’d kept hidden until now the fact that I’d fallen way behind because of the Horst Grossman trial and because I’d decided to go in a different direction with my art.

“Months,” I said.

Brandon’s eyes goggled. “Months? I don’t have months. I’ve got shows lined up for the rest of the year. I can’t shift things around. Christos,” he said, sounding deeply disappointed, “I can’t keep these buyers waiting around. If I don’t close them now, they’re going to go elsewhere.”

“Why don’t you sell them on some of your other artists?”

“These are big name buyers. They’re not interested in my other artists, Christos. They’re interested in you. They want the Manos magic. I need your paintings. Now. How many do you have?”

“Three are finished. The ones you’ve seen of Avery, Jacqueline, and Becca. I’ve got three more in progress.” I was thinking of the LOVE painting of me and Samantha, the solo portrait of her, and the surprise I had brewing for everyone.

“Six? I thought you had seven. I know I sent you seven models and you were working on all of them. What happened?”

“The, ahhh…well…” I was going to have to tell him, “The painting of Isabella is R.I.P.”

“What? Why?” He was frowning.

“I told you, it wasn’t working for me.”

“You didn’t change it, did you, like Wentworth asked?”

“No,” I scoffed. “He’s an idiot.”

“Good. Because I’m telling you, I can sell that painting for six figures for sure.”

Fuck. He may as well know. “It’s gone.”

“What, did you sell it already?” he chuckled nervously.

If I had, I would be a total prick and Brandon would reconsider our business relationship. I wouldn’t blame him. Lucky for me, I hadn’t. “I, um, tore it to pieces.”

Brandon’s eyes goggled wider than before. “Why the hell would you do that?” He actually sounded angry. Brandon never lost his cool. “I had a buyer lined up. The guy buys nothing but high priced nudes. He wouldn’t think twice about paying a hundred grand for yours. You’re crazy, Christos.” Brandon shook his head and frowned, looking half defeated. Then he paused and his angry expression eased into an easy grin. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you, Christos?”

I shook my head, “No. I tore the shit out of it and threw it away.”

Brandon’s eyes goggled a third time. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

I nodded.

“Christos, you’re killing me,” he sighed. “I can’t put up a solo show with six paintings. The gallery will look empty. I’m going to need more.”

I felt bad. I had put myself in this position. “Look, maybe I can make it nine.”

“Nine?” he asked skeptically.

“I never finished the three ones of the other models.”

“Why not?”

“I told you, I started on new pieces.”

“Christos, what are you doing to me?” he pleaded. “How far are you along on all the unfinished paintings?” He sounded totally exasperated. “Are you going to have any of them done in time?” Now he sounded like a disappointed parent.

Poor Brandon. I couldn’t blame him. I was fucking everything up and I knew it. I sighed, “The three new ones will definitely be finished. If I hustle, I can get the other three finished too.”

“You’ve only got a few weeks to do it, Christos. Is that going to be enough time?” He said it like he knew it was impossible but he was being too polite to call me on it.

“I hope so,” I said quietly.

Brandon eyed me like I’d gone from being his hot property to a thorn in his side in the span of five minutes.

Because I had.

I felt bad. I was taking a huge risk with my new artistic direction. Brandon didn’t deserve the stress I was piling on him. Despite the fact he annoyed me at times, he’d always been good to me and my family over the years, and he’d been counting on me to deliver a certain amount of work in a certain amount of time. Now I was blowing my deadline. But what the fuck. I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life painting for other people.

I thought the whole point of this artist thing was to do what you wanted?

Fuck.

Maybe I was being a bit too narrow minded in my view of things.

* * *

SAMANTHA

Madison and Jake had already gone home from the gallery because they were getting up early to surf in the morning. Romeo was chatting with Dillon and Kamiko out back in the sculpture garden. Now that Kamiko’s painting had sold, she was ready to relax.

I wandered around in the main gallery, still entranced by all the art. It blew my mind that so many people had sold paintings tonight. Most of them were inexpensive by gallery standards, ranging between $500 and $3,000. That meant Kamiko’s had been one of the higher priced pieces to sell. I was so proud of her.

Maybe one day, I’d sell a painting for a thousand dollars.

Out the corner of my eye, I noticed Tiffany stumble toward the entrance. She looked totally drunk. I think she was leaving, but she was in no shape to drive.

I ambled toward the doorway as she left, watching her sway onto the sidewalk outside. Maybe she would wrap her car around a telephone pole on her way home and I wouldn’t have to worry about her getting me kicked out of college at my upcoming SDU tribunal hearing.

I sighed.

As much as I hated Tiffany, I couldn’t let her drive home totally drunk.

Then I noticed her stumble into a guy smoking a cigarette outside. He wore a tattered leather jacket and was leaning against a parking meter. She leaned into him and clutched the lapels of his jacket. He looked surprised. But then he took a good look at Tiffany and a smile crept across his face. He dropped his cigarette and tamped it out with his boot. I guess Tiffany knew him because he put an arm around her waist and held her up.

There were two young women smoking outside, huddled together and talking to each other. Had the jacket guy been talking to them when Tiffany came outside? I wasn’t sure. Odd.

Three guys from inside the gallery walked past me, laughing at something one of them had said as they stepped onto the sidewalk. Jacket guy stared at them. One of the three guys nodded at him and said, “Hey.”

Jacket guy nodded back.

“There you are!” Romeo said from behind me. “I’ve been looking all over for you. I think Dillon and Kamiko needed some private time, so I left them alone in the sculpture garden. Besides, I couldn’t take any more cartoon talk. They’re still talking about Adventure Time. I think Kamiko is in love. Do you want to see if the bar has any booze left?”

“Sure,” I said absently as Romeo grabbed my hand and pulled me inside the gallery.

We walked toward the bar. The crowd had thinned substantially. People were heading out the door. It wouldn’t take long to get a drink. Not that I was going to have any alcohol. I was the designated driver tonight.

Tiffany.

Jacket guy.

Something about that hadn’t looked right.

“I’ll be right back, Romeo,” I said to him, pulling my hand free from his. I danced past several people strolling casually toward the door.

By the time I was on the sidewalk, I knew something was wrong.

Tiffany and jacket guy were gone.

“Tiffany?”

I whipped my head left and right. I didn’t see her. I turned to the two girls still smoking outside. “Did you see which way that girl with the platinum blonde hair and white dress went?”

One of the smoking girls said, “You mean the chick with that guy in the leather jacket?”

“Yes.”

“I think they went that way,” she pointed with her cigarette.

“Thanks.” I took off at a dead run.

Oh my god, Tiffany.

Now that I was thinking about it, Jacket guy had looked a little too mangy to be her type.

“Tiffany!” I shouted.

I passed an alley and stopped. I peered down it into darkness. I didn’t see her. And I didn’t see anything they could be hiding behind like a dumpster or trashcans or whatever.

I sprinted down the sidewalk until I stopped at a four way intersection. My heart was hammering in my chest. Not from the running, but from the panic machine gunning in my stomach. I looked up and down the cross street. It had lots of bright streetlights in both directions. But straight ahead, the street was dark. I think I saw movement ahead.

Yup.

The small dot of Tiffany’s hair and white dress glowed faintly in the moonlight.

“Tiffany!” I shouted. The light was red, but I ran anyway. A car blared its horn and swerved around me. Luckily, it hadn’t been going very fast. I dodged clear and crossed to the other side of the street.

I sprinted down the sidewalk, screaming at the top of my lungs, “Tiffany!”

It was definitely jacket guy with her, his arm around her waist. They turned down a street before I caught up.

When I rounded the corner, jacket guy had Tiffany pinned against a brick wall. Her purse was on the ground. Tiffany was pushing at him with limp hands. She was too drunk to fight. She fell down on her knees. Jacket guy grabbed her by the sleeve and I jumped on his back, pounding the back of his head with everything I had. He stood up and stumbled backward, slamming me into the window of a parked car. White lighting shot up and down my back as pain exploded in my body.

I slid down the car. My butt thumped onto the sidewalk.

Jacket guy whirled around, looking surprised. His lips were peeled over crooked clenched teeth. He was hunched over like an animal. He swung his booted foot at my face, but I rolled to the side and scrambled to my feet. His boot clunked into the car door where my face had been, denting it. Then he lunged for me and I raked my nails across his cheek.

“You cut me, bitch!” he shouted.

I saw Damian Wolfram’s face fall into place over jacket guy’s. Anger blew up inside me like a neutron bomb and my vision went red. I swung my arms at him like helicopter blades, aiming my nails at his eyes. He stumbled back and tripped over Tiffany’s legs. I kept swinging my arms. I had no idea what I was doing, but I wasn’t going to stop.

My fingers peeled back skin from his other cheek. He scrabbled away like a squirrel on all fours. When he got to his feet, he stopped and glared at me. He touched his bloody cheek and examined the blood that came away on his fingertips.

“I’m going to cut you open, bitch,” he said as he pulled a knife out of his pocket. He flicked the serrated blade open with his thumb.

Oh no. I was screwed.

He advanced toward me. If I ran, he would never catch me. But I couldn’t leave Tiffany alone with him.

Jacket guy’s face was no longer Damian Wolfram’s. It was just ugly jacket guy who had fingernail gashes dripping red. I noticed spittle on his lower lip. I became obsessed with that spittle. It was so white in the darkness. I couldn’t stop looking at it, I think because I didn’t want to think about his knife. I didn’t know what to do. Someone was going to get stabbed but I wasn’t ready to accept that fact.

He took a step toward me.

Spittle. Spittle. Spittle.

He started to chuckle like a rusty hinge, waving the knife slowly through the air in lazy circles.

His eyes suddenly went wide, drawing my attention to them, breaking the spittle spell.

“You’re not cutting anybody,” Tiffany said. She was behind me. I turned and saw she sat on the ground, holding a small silver pistol in both hands. She was staring right at jacket guy. “Unless you want me to blow your balls off, asshole.”

“Put the gun down,” jacket guy said.

“Are you insane, douchebag?” Tiffany sneered. “I’m going to give you to the count of three to run away.” Tiffany slurred her words, obviously drunk, but she held the pistol surprisingly steady. “One…”

Jacket guy smiled like a cobra, “You’re not going to shoot.”

“Two…”

He took a confident step toward Tiffany, “You’re too drunk. You’ll miss me by a mile.”

“I’ve been taking shooting lessons since I was ten years old, you prick,” she chuckled. “Which ball do you want to keep, the right or the left? Ah, fuck it, I’m going to see if I can get both with one bullet.” She cocked the gun like they always did in the movies.

Cha-CHAK!

“Three…” Tiffany said.

Jacket guy ran away so fast, he was a blur.

I gulped, and felt my heart slide back down my throat.

“Asshole,” Tiffany said as she lowered the gun.

I knelt next to her, my legs quivering like jelly. I couldn’t stand up if I wanted to. My stomach was on spin cycle. “Are you okay?”

Tiffany took a good look at me. After a moment, recognition dawned on her face, which soured when she realized it was me. “I’m fine.” She carefully eased the hammer thing on the back of the gun. I knew that meant it wasn’t about to go off anymore. She slid the gun in her purse with a loud huff. She tried to stand up, but was having trouble.

“Do you need help?” I asked, hands resting on my thighs

“No,” she blurted.

I watched her struggle to all fours, but that was as far as she was getting. “Here,” I said, and looped my arms around her arms and stood her up.

Tiffany leaned against me.

Adrenalin still flickered in my veins. My hands shook, my knees wobbled, shit, even my hair was tingling. I was surprised I could stand, let alone hold her up too.

“Which way is your car?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” she slurred, totally frustrated, like I was annoying her.

“Oh my god! Sam!” Romeo squeaked behind me. “What the hell happened?”

I turned Tiffany and myself around to face him.

“What the hells bells?” Romeo gawked. “Are you and Tiffany scissor sisters?”

“Yes, Romeo,” I said sarcastically. “We were just about to flick each other’s beans for awhile before locking crotches.”