Chapter 3
WILLOW
Electric blue streaks across the canvas as I move my paintbrush in quick strokes. I smudge the edges into the emerald green, making the lines blur where earth meets sky.
I sit back on my stool to peer at the canvas.
The sound of a TV drifts through the open window to the courtyard of the hostel. Inside, most of my fellow work team are slouched on couches, watching a house-flipping show. I prefer to spend my evenings doing the one thing that calms me—painting.
The whir of the A/C unit masks the sound of the road behind the stone walls of the hostel courtyard. The occasional human voice drifts in as people leave the bar down the road.
It’s not where I’d choose to paint, but I’m used to making do. The scene I’m painting is in my imagination, a place where the trees are emerald green and the sky sparks and the reflection of the sun on the river is so bright it burns your eyes.
The door to the inside cracks open, and Boxy slides through. My skin crawls, and an icky feeling settles in my stomach at the sight of the skinny man with the rat face. He licks his lips and doesn’t even try to hide the stare he gives my breasts.
“What ya painting?”
I hate people seeing my work until it’s finished, but before I can cover the canvas, he’s crept around to stand next to me. His arm brushes mine, and I step off my stool, putting it between us.
He frowns at the canvas. “I hate all this new age art shit.”
I take a deep breath to stop the retort that forms on my lips. A man like Boxy might take any interaction as flirting, and I’m definitely not flirting with him.
“I’m going to turn in.”
I gather up my paintbrushes and take them to the outside sink on the other side of the courtyard.
“A few of us are going for a drink. You should come.”
Turning around, I see he’s followed me across the courtyard. He’s too close, and I hold the brushes up to my chest to form a barrier between us.
“No, thanks.” I want to tell him to fuck off, but he could be dangerous. My gaze flicks to the window, wondering if they can see us from out there.
“You too good for us or something?” He sneers.
Swallowing my fear, I shake out my brushes, and he jumps backward as water flicks onto his shirt.
“Just tired.”
I push past him to get to my paints, and he moves with me. I glance at the canvas. It’s half-finished, and I like the colors, but if I have to sacrifice it, I will.
I lunge for the door and reach it before Boxy. I quickly drag it open and tumble inside. Janelle looks up from the couch and frowns when she sees Boxy slink in behind me.
Getting up off the couch, she gives Boxy the evil eye. “You want help bringing your paints in?” She asks me, and I nod.
Once we’ve collected the paints, we head to the room we’re sharing.
“What did Boxy want?” she asks once we’ve shut the door behind us.
“He wanted me to go for a drink, and I said no.”
She shudders. “He doesn’t get the hint, does he?”
Boxy has tried it with every female here. I shrug. “Men like that never do.”
But I don’t want to think about Boxy.
I put the half-finished canvas on the floor and fold the easel to store under the bed. It’s the one luxury I brought with me.
While Janelle gets ready for bed, I pull up my email app on my phone. There’s a message from my brother, and I sit on the bed with my knees tucked up to read it.
All okay here. Not much to do. But I’ve found a little work.
Hope you’re holding up okay.
Tyler
I read the message several times, trying to figure out what he’s not telling me. I should be happy that he’s safe, but anxiety gnaws at my gut.
A little work could mean anything. I just hope like hell it’s legal work.
I think about the text I got today.
You owe me
It could only have come from one person, and I don’t owe that asshole anything. If anything, he owes me. I’m stuck here doing community service while he’s running free. But that’s not how he sees it.
I bring my focus back to Tyler. We agreed not to tell each other where we were. The less we know, the better.
I just need to know he’s safe. He’s out, and he’s got work.
I start a reply to him.
Hey bro!
I hover over the letters on my phone. What can I tell him? That I’m stuck in a hostel with other minor offenders, that one of them scares the hell out of me, that I’m getting threatening texts.
I can’t tell him any of that.
My new boss is some kind of army sergeant.
I close my eyes, thinking about Hudson’s warm hand in mine and the sparks that shot up my body.
You seem like you need a good spanking.
Heat flares in my veins, and I catch my breath. I can’t tell my brother any of this.
He’s so uptight, I can’t help but mess with him. Reminds me of school.
Love you
Willow
I’m smiling as I set the phone down on the bedside table. Hopefully, I can make my brother laugh, and hopefully he stays out of trouble.
Janelle’s already snoring softly, so I change quietly and slide under the covers. I’m almost asleep when my phone buzzes.
It’s a message from an unknown number.
One more drop and we’ll call it even.
An icy fear grips my heart, and I sit up in bed, suddenly wide awake. My phone shakes in my trembling fingers as I stare at the message.
They have my number, but they don’t know where I am, I remind myself.
They can threaten me all they like, but they don’t know where I am. I just need to get through this community service, then I can find my brother, and we can both settle somewhere far, far away.
I will not let their threats derail me.
With trembling fingers, I set my phone to silent and slide it under the pillow. But sleep takes a long time to come.