22. Kiera #2
But my feet were still killing me. And considering how full the tables were, there was no sign I’d be getting a break anytime soon. I really need to pick more sensible shoes for this shit.
My lovers, however, had other plans.
Scoping out a douchey finance bro who was puffing on his vape at the nearest table, Leo marched over, pushing his drink off the table.
“What the fuc?—”
“Table’s taken.” Leo crossed her arms over her chest, putting her tensed shoulders and forearms on full display.
His eyes quickly shifted from her to Spencer, who was already pulling out a stool for me. And while I couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking, I’d have bet it was something along the lines of ‘I’d like to walk out of here with both legs working.’
Grumbling, he kicked his cup at Leo’s foot before stalking off into the crowd with a sour look.
My head whipped between Leo, who’d already grabbed the douchebag’s seat, and Spencer, who was holding out the opposite one for me still.
“A seat for the lady?” She inclined her head with a smirk, offering me a hand to help me up.
“You guys didn’t have to do that.” I frowned, “Why don’t you take the seat?”
“I like to stand,” Spencer lied. “Besides, you need the seat more than that jack-off, anyway.”
A part of me wanted to turn the seat down. If she could stand, so could I.
But that part of me was stubborn. And stubborn wasn’t going to have to take care of my achy joints at the end of the night. I should take the rest while I can get it. Who knows where the fuck else these two will drag me tonight?
Grasping Spencer’s hand with a reluctant smile, I hoisted myself up onto the high stool, instantly feeling the pressure release from my feet.
From my perch, I skimmed the crowd. The view from up here was much clearer.
Hopefully, if all went to plan, tonight was about locating the next link in the chain.
From what Leo had conveyed, The Oracle mainly wanted us to find Grant’s boss, and figure out where the money was coming from.
And they had reason to believe that the traffickers might be here tonight, but that was as specific as my intel got.
But while my mind was focused on the mission, my lovers’ thoughts were elsewhere entirely.
Leo rested her elbow on the table as she swiveled in her seat to face Spencer. “Has Kiera shown you her art?”
Spencer gasped, clutching a hand over her heart as her gaze swiveled to me. “No! You do art?”
“Yes — No — I, we have a mission to focus on!” I tried to keep my composure, but I could already feel the heat rising in my cheeks.
“We’re focused. We’re just good at multi-tasking,” Spencer winked.
“Plus,” Leo added, “Sitting around silently wouldn’t be a very lowkey way to gather intel. No one's going to let their guard down if they think we’re watching.”
“Hey, you’re avoiding my question!” Spencer pressed her palm against the table top, leaning lower to catch my eye. “What kind of art do you do? Since when?”
“I’m not entertaining this,” I crossed my arms, returning my gaze to the dance floor.
But Leo wouldn’t let it go. “Want to see?”
Spencer and I both whipped our heads around as Leo pulled her phone from her pocket and lit up the homescreen. At some point — probably while she’d been pilfering through my shit — she’d snagged a photo of one of my bird sketches and made it her phone background.
“Are you joking?” Spencer gawked. “That’s fucking amazing, Bunny!”
My eyes widened as I pressed my palms into the tabletop. “You need to delete that!”
“Why?” Leo frowned, moving her phone out of my range. “It’s beautiful!”
“It’s embarrassing!” I threw my hands up. If it hadn’t been before, my face would have turned totally red by now. “It’s all… scribbly! The wings are all lopsided.”
Spencer laughed. “If you think that’s embarrassing, you should see me try. My shit’ll look like chicken scratch compared to this.”
Leo smiled down at her phone before returning her gaze to me. “Let’s make a deal: I’ll change my homescreen if you draw me a new one.”
“I don’t draw any more.” I crossed my arms, hunching slightly on my seat. “I’ll send you something by a professional, and then you’ll see what good really looks like.”
But rather than taking my bait, Leo dug in, unwilling to shift the attention off of me. “Is that something you’d want to do? Be a professional artist?”
At that, a genuine laugh bubbled from my stomach. “Oh god, I’d need way more practice to be that good. Training, too.”
“Okay…” Spencer sidled up beside me. “Then why not get it? If this is your natural talent without any teachers, I can’t imagine how good you’d be with some lessons.”
The compliment stirred up a warmth in my chest that tingled right through the rest of me. Getting to explore my creative side would be a dream. But dreams were dangerous things.
I’d never considered the possibility — not fully. There was no money to pay for something like that and no point getting attached to some fantasy that would never pan out.
And that was okay with me — there was no chance of getting disappointed by something I never really believed in. No need to rely on someone else to provide me with what I needed.
Other people were fickle. I was the only one I could really count on. It was why I’d started drawing in the first place — it gave me somewhere to escape to inside my own head, something separate from all the chaos, something that only relied on my own talent.
But Leo and Spencer didn’t need my sob story. So instead, I just shrugged.
“I mean, I’d love to work with a live model or take a class sometime, but…” I gestured to my wig, to the disguise that just barely kept me safe. “Clearly that’s not happening anytime soon.”
Leo frowned at my excuse, but Spencer shrugged and let it go. “Fair enough.”
With the topic finally exhausted, my angels’ eyes went back to scanning the dance floor. The heavy silence that settled over the table was a relief: not quite comfortable, but at least I wasn’t the center of attention anymore.
A part of me felt guilty for chastising Leo. She’d only been trying to support me. And it wasn’t her fault I didn’t know how to handle it.
But before I could catch her eye and offer an apology, Spencer’s eyes caught on something across the warehouse: our mark. “Bingo.”