Chapter Five #2
The silence stretched for three full seconds while she stared at my canvas. The orange paint had dried in uneven patches, looking less like a sunset and more like something a toddler had smeared during a tantrum.
“Well,” Miss Patty said, her smile straining at the edges. “This is certainly…bold.”
“Bold,” I repeated.
“Yes. Very…primal. Almost like cave paintings, but with more...modern sensibilities.” Her hand gripped the crystal for the millionth time. “Everyone has their own journey with art.”
I refused to acknowledge the sting.
Behind me, someone made a sound that might’ve been a suppressed laugh.
“Keep going,” Miss Patty said, her voice a little too bright. “Remember, there are no mistakes!”
Coming here had been a mistake.
She moved on, and I caught Ollie pressing his lips together to keep from grinning.
“Don’t,” I muttered. I couldn’t take it if he laughed.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking your painting has character.”
“Your painting looks like it belongs in a gallery. Mine looks like I murdered a sunset.”
His shoulders shook with silent laughter, and he reached over to squeeze my arm. The touch was brief but grounding, reminding me why I was here. Not for the painting. For him.
“Next step!” Miss Patty announced from the front. “We’re going to add pink to the middle section. Use your medium brush and blend it with the orange.”
Ollie switched brushes and got to work. His movements were confident, the pink melding with the orange in a gradient that actually looked intentional.
My baby was an artist.
I grabbed my medium brush and dipped it into the pink paint. When I tried to blend it with the orange, the colors turned muddy instead of gradual. Brown streaks appeared where there should’ve been a smooth transition.
The brush bent under the pressure I was applying. Then it snapped.
The bristles separated from the handle, falling onto my canvas and sticking to the wet paint. I stared at the broken pieces then at the mess on my canvas.
“Everything all right over there?” Miss Patty called out, her voice cutting through the room.
“Fine,” I said. “Just need a new brush.”
“There are extras in the cup, dear.” Her smile never faltered, but something in her eyes suggested she’d already written me off as a lost cause.
She wouldn’t be the first person.
At the back of the room, Tom was mid-sip from his own flask, which he buried inside his sweater the second he caught me looking. He gave me a chin lift. I gave him one back. Huh. Seemed I wasn’t the only one trying to survive Patty’s bullshit.
I grabbed another brush and tried again. This one lasted about two minutes before the handle cracked in my grip.
“Gorgeous work, Ollie!” Miss Patty walked past again, her hand going to the crystal. “You’re blending like a professional.”
“Thank you.”
“And, Gerald, naturally, your gradient is perfection itself.” She squeezed the crystal, her smile stretching wider. “Such an eye for detail.”
Gerald preened under the praise, adjusting his glasses and sitting up straighter.
When she reached my easel this time, her steps slowed. The floaty quality had disappeared, replaced by something more grounded and significantly less enthusiastic.
“Oh,” she said. “You’ve…broken some brushes.”
“Happens.” I was ready to bounce, hang outside until Ollie finished his painting.
“It really shouldn’t.” Her fingers wrapped around the crystal, gripping it so hard the leather cord dug into her neck. It was a coping mechanism. “Perhaps you’re applying too much pressure? Art requires a gentle touch.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Please do.”
She drifted away, and I reached into my cut while her back was turned. The flask was cool against my palm, tucked exactly where I’d stashed it before we’d left. One quick twist of the cap and I brought it to my lips, taking a pull of whiskey that burned down my throat in the best way.
“Much better,” I muttered, capping it and sliding it back into place.
Ollie glanced over, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He didn’t say anything, just went back to his painting with a small smile playing on his lips.
Miss Patty headed toward the front, her arms spread wide like she was about to conduct an orchestra. “Now we’re going to add the purple to the bottom of our sky. This is where the magic really happens, beautiful souls!”
Magic. Right. The only magic happening here was how she managed to make every compliment sound like an insult when directed at anyone who wasn’t Gerald.
Around me, brushes swished against canvas. The incense continued burning, making my eyes water. Or maybe that was the fumes from whatever chemicals were in the paint. Either way, the combination wasn’t doing my mood any favors.
My canvas looked worse with each passing minute. The orange, pink, and brown mess at the top was now joined by purple streaks that resembled nothing close to a sunset. More like a bruise. A really ugly bruise that had been left out in the sun too long.
“Exquisite, Gerald!” Miss Patty’s voice rang out. “The way you’ve layered those colors is simply divine.”
“Thank you, Miss Patty.” Gerald’s smugness had reached critical levels. The guy was practically vibrating with self-satisfaction.
This is for Ollie. Don’t ruin his fun.
“And, Ollie, darling, you continue to impress.” She stopped next to him, her hand going to that crystal again. “Such natural talent.”
“Thanks.” Ollie’s voice came out quieter this time, like he was starting to pick up on the pattern.
When Miss Patty reached my easel, her smile had gone completely brittle. “This is…” She paused, searching for words. “Quite abstract. Very…chaotic energy. Perhaps art isn’t your calling, dear.”
I turned to fully face her. “Perhaps I’m merely reflecting my inner self.”
Reaching into my cut again, I pulled out the flask and took a long pull. The whiskey slid down smooth and hot, and I met her eyes while I did it. Let her see exactly how much I cared about her fucking opinion.
“Perhaps you should focus more on the painting and less on the drinking,” she said, her smile tight. “This is a creative space, not a bar.”
“It’s called paint and sip.” I gestured at the flask with my free hand. “I’m sipping.”
“Wine is provided—”
“I don’t like wine.” Another sip, slower this time. “This works better for me.”
Her nostrils flared slightly, and her grip on the crystal tightened until I thought it would snap. “The beverages provided are part of the experience. Bringing outside alcohol disrupts the energy of the space.”
“My energy feels great.” I grinned at her, all teeth and zero warmth. “Really creative right now.”
Someone snorted from the back of the room.
Miss Patty’s smile stretched so wide it looked painful. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable at a different establishment. One more suited to your…particular needs.”
“My particular need is sitting behind me.” I took another drink, maintaining eye contact. “I paid for the class. So I’m gonna sip and paint chaotic energy.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point? Because from where I’m sitting, the point seems to be that you’ve decided I don’t belong here, and you’re looking for any excuse to make that official.”
Color flooded her cheeks, creeping up toward her hairline. “I never said—”
“You didn’t have to.” I stood, the stool scraping against the floor. “Your attitude has been broadcasting your displeasure this entire time.”
“Diesel,” Ollie said, his voice urgent. “Ignore her. Come on, your painting is actually kind of cool. It’s got this psychedelic vibe to it.”
“That’s against the rules! Miss Patty, are you going to allow this?” Gerald’s voice cut through the room like a fire alarm.
Every head in the room swiveled toward Gerald then back to me. The tech startup guy had his phone out now, like he was considering whether this was worthy of documenting for social media.
“No one asked you, Gerald.” Ollie’s voice had an edge I’d never heard before, completely at odds with his usual warmth.
“I’m simply pointing out—”
“You’re being a tattletale.” Ollie set his brush down with enough force to make the easel rattle. “Mind your own business.”
“It’s everyone’s business when someone is breaking the rules.” Gerald adjusted his glasses, his expression radiating righteousness. “Miss Patty has every right to—”
“Miss Patty can speak for herself.” Ollie stood up, shoulders back. “And you can shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”
“Are you threatening me?” Gerald’s voice went up an octave.
“I’m suggesting you mind your own fucking business before you find out what a threat actually sounds like.”
My kitten had claws.
The room went dead silent. Even Miss Patty looked shocked, her hand frozen on the crystal.
“Ollie,” Gerald said, his voice reasonable. “There’s no need for—”
“There’s every need.” Ollie took a step toward Gerald, his hands clenched into fists.
“You’ve been sitting there all night acting like you’re better than everyone else. Looking down at Diesel because his painting doesn’t match yours. Well, guess what. Nobody cares about your perfect gradient, Gerald. Nobody cares that you’ve been coming here for months. You’re still an asshole.”
I grinned like a goddamn idiot. The male was defending me. Didn’t matter I could make Gerald piss himself with a single look. Ollie was ready to throw hands like he was protecting my honor.
My wolf sat up and took notice.
“I am not—”