Chapter 2

Lilly

“Lilly, I need some money.”

“What for?”

Natalie sighed and rolled her eyes. “Can you just give me the money already?”

I paused filling in a bat’s wing on my client’s arm and looked over my shoulder. “Natalie, why don’t you wait in my office? I’ll be done here with Butch in a few minutes, and then we can talk about it.”

Natalie kicked back her sneaker-clad foot, leaving a light gray mark on the lime green paint I’d just applied two weeks earlier. “No! I shouldn’t have to explain everything I do.”

I turned back to Butch who gave me a look that said hold your ground. He knew about Natalie. Most people did. He decided to speak up. “Hey, Natalie, I know where there’s a party tonight.”

“Oh, Butch, could you just not tell her that, please?” I whined “It’s hard enough keeping her out of trouble as it is.”

Butch opened his mouth and lifted his other hand toward me, indicating I’d misunderstood his intent. “No, Lilly, really. This is a straight party. Some guy got a gig displaying his paintings down at the gallery on Fifth Street. He’s like, super happy, and then is having one of those fancy wine and cheese things at his apartment afterward.”

“Wine? Really, Butch?” I asked him, incredulous.

“OK, so maybe it’s not absolutely innocent, but I’ll be with her. I’ll keep an eye on her, I promise.”

“Yeah? And what happens when you have too much wine? Who’s going to look out for you?”

Butch, as burly as he was, feigned hurt. “Are you saying she can out-drink me?”

I sighed and shook my head. This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have. “No, what I’m saying is that Natalie needs to stay away from booze and find a job. And I don’t mean here,” I added, giving her another look.

Butch’s voice turned soft. “You know, Lilly, I’d much rather take you to the party.”

“You trying to flatter me into giving you a discount, big guy?” I teased him. I was personally responsible for almost every tattoo on his body, and he had a lot of them.

“I’ve never made a secret how I feel about you, and damn! I’m running out of blank skin!” His voice had a teasing tone, but his eyes told me otherwise.

“Butch, when I’m ready to find myself a great big hunk of a guy, I’ll be knocking at your door,” I told him, patting him on the arm. “Now get ready, ‘cause this next part is going to hurt.”

Fear leaped into his eyes, and I had to stifle a chuckle. I finished him up, and as he was leaving, I pointed to my office door, and Natalie tossed her head like a ten-year-old but went in.

I closed the door behind us and sat down on the chair next to her. “Nat, we’ve got to talk about this.”

“Don’t want no lectures.” Her hair looked horrible—greasy clumps where the blonde should have been.

“And I’m not giving any. I’m just trying to tell you that you have to step up and carry your share. Between college loans and the overhead on this salon, I’m tapped out. We might have to move into the back room and give up the apartment.”

“Yeah, right,” she responded in a tone that said I’ve heard all this before.

“Hey, I’m serious. The utilities are behind a month, and there’s a jar of peanut butter and a half loaf of bread I bought two weeks ago in the cupboard. I don’t know about you, but that’s not going to cut it.”

She sat there, staring at me, unresponsive with glassy eyes.

“Look,” I went on, and my stomach clenched at what I was about to say. “I know you’ve been getting into my purse and the till here at the salon. We can’t afford your habit, Natalie. There’s just not enough to go around.” I hated this conversation.

“Who the hell is going to hire me?” she argued. “I can’t hold down a job, you know that.”

I tried to make my voice gentle, but I was seething inside. “You could if you wanted to. No one wants to work, Nat, but since Mom and Dad died, it’s all been on me. I don’t mind working, but I can’t keep all this going when there’s a hole in the bottom of the bag, you know? I don’t want to hide money from you, but you’re putting me in that position.”

“Fuck that,” she cursed, coming up out of her chair and throwing the door open hard enough the wall shook. I was surprised I didn’t hear breaking glass.

Natalie was almost to the door when she stopped, paused, and turned to face me. “By the way,” she said in my direction. “I picked up a little something for you. Might not be your size, and you might want to wipe it off first, but it’s yours, little sister.” She pulled something out of her purse and threw it at me. It landed at my feet as I heard her slam the salon door. I looked down, tearing up at the way our talk had gone. There on the floor was something I’d never seen, but I was no fool. It was a purple dildo.

“Oh god!” I cried out and jumped back.

At that exact moment, the salon door opened, and I thought Natalie had come back in. I heard a deep voice say quietly, “Shall I come back when you’re done?”

My face was hot, and I looked up to see a silhouette in the sunlight that streamed through the salon door. He was tall and lean, his posture relaxed with his thumbs hooked into his jean pockets.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. My sister just…well, never mind. Look, if you’ll have a seat, let me tidy up,” I coughed, well, actually choked. “I’ll be right with you.” I was so humiliated and had no idea what the guy thought was going on, but I went into the back room and came out with a dustpan and broom. I tried to sweep it into the dustpan, but the bristles of the broom were soft nylon and the dildo was too heavy. The bristles just brushed over it. Jesus! I looked around frantically for something to push it with—maybe a piece of cardboard or a hammer.

The man stood up and came toward me, bending over to pick up the dildo and tossing it into a nearby trash can. “I am assuming you meant to throw it away?” he drawled in a mocking voice.

“Oh god, yes! That’s not mine, so that you know,” I hurried to add. “I’ve never seen it before, honest. My sister…” I couldn’t continue without saying too much.

“Relax. You wouldn’t be the first woman to have one, even if it was yours. Secondly, there’s nothing wrong with using one. In fact, I’m told they’re good for relaxing a tight ass,” he added, and I looked at him in shock. Was he suggesting…? “Hey, just teasing. Maybe I could get a little smile?”

I took a deep breath, relaxed my shoulders, and quickly stuffed some newspapers over the offending object in the trash. “I’m sorry. This is just so embarrassing. I don’t want to get into it, but it’s not mine, and honestly, I’ve never seen one before. Thanks for the… the help. Anyway, did you come in for a tat?” That was the first time I could really look him in the eye. I choked on my saliva. He was gorgeous. Exceptionally tall, he made me feel like a child, and I’m a full five-feet-four. He was darkly tanned, and his teeth were a perfect white slash above a strong jaw with a cleft. It was his eyes that caught me, though. An incredible shade of dark, dark gray, they held a lively but stormy promise that captured me. It was hard to look away.

“Thought I might,” he answered, and it felt like minutes had passed while I was caught up in inspecting him. There was a casual strength about him—very athletic and panther-like—but he appeared to be relaxed. I was drawn toward his energy. I could feel he was safe, and I always trusted my instincts. They had yet to prove me wrong.

“You have any idea what you’re looking for?” I asked, turning toward the counter where I kept a binder of graphic selections.

“It won’t be in there.” He pointed to the binder. “It’s just a name.”

“Oh, OK,” I nodded. That wasn’t an uncommon request. “The name?”

“Leila.”