Page 6 of Cocky Secrets

Tooexciting?

Maybe.

But I so rarely do anything dangerous. I guess, though, if Vi hadn’t vouched for him, I’d not be as excited as I am. I wouldn’t show up at all, in fact. I’d be smart.

But she did vouch.

He fought for a friend of Billy Mae’s in court. Hmmm. Protected her against whatever pain she’d gone through, and probably stopped it from happening again in so doing. I don’t want to — or need to — know the details of the wrongs done to that friend. I hear enough about horrifying things when The Ciphers discuss their missions. I can imagine, on my own what happened. But don’t wish to.

Instead I focus on the positive and smile to myself, thinking for the millionth time:Bear fought to protect someone.

And tomorrow I’ll paint him.

Wearing no clothes.

A hero without his armor.

Once more I glide my nail-bitten fingers over Bear’s careful scrawl, holding the beautiful notebook gift whose cover is embedded with a perfect oak tree. Either he wrote his name and address carefully, or he has perfect penmanship. Not usual formen, I have found. At least not with The Ciphers. They write like someone is chasing them.

The worst of them is Tonk Sr., Carmen’s husband. Despite being so tall and imposing, he writes like a child, which I’ve always believed is because he was raised in pain. His father was abusive, and beat him regularly. He didn’t find his owninner poweruntil he met Carmen, back when he was the newest in the club. The Ciphers were on that horrible mission in California, way back when, breaking up a human trafficking ring. The impact of its secrets are still fresh in my mind even though they were revealed some years ago now, on the traumatic day when Celia found out where she came from, how she and Carmen were saved by Tonk Sr. That was the fateful day when TonkJr. found his calling. He was such a jewel, shining his light on the darkness revealed to us all until it dissipated into pure love.

And gratitude.

Bear. The “B” he wrote is beautiful. Bold and sweeping. Perfect penmanship. Strong. But no last name.

I gave him mine. Why did I do that? What if he looks me up?

He’d find nothing.

I’m not on a single social media platform. Never have I been. I only know about them from the news, and then from Tonk Jr. showing me what people are up to, out in the real world, once when he came to visit. I have no friends outside of our club. So why would I post what I’m doing to a platform where facts about myself, and my location, could be discovered?

If Bear looked me up, he’d findnothing.

Not even a birth certificate.

My brothers and I were born here at the plantation. So were Celia and her brother Tonk Jr., and of course Sofia Sol, the daughter of our President, Jett Cocker and his powerful wife, Luna.

And not just us, but all the little ones. Though I guess I can’t call Scythe and Denita’s kids, Shay and Mylar,littleanymore.

Those of us past driving age have fake licenses. ‘Birth certificates’, if you can call them that, were done by hand to mark the day only. They are kept in a wooden box Jett keeps under a loose floorboard, never turned in to the United States government.

Doctors, paid, kept quiet.

Our current physician and surgeon, Dr. Durnell, tends to bullet and knife wounds here at the house, as well as healing any normal sicknesses any of us might have obtained which won’t go away on their own. All of our doctors throughout time have been paid under the table, paid well, for their entirely discreet house calls.

Dr. Durnell used to work at the local hospital, which is how we found him. He was its second best surgeon. The best one was too honest and by-the-book to bring into our world. A bit of research proved that to Jett who made the final call. So he and Luna, together, approached Dr. Durnell — a married couple less frightening than one buffed biker with salted blonde hair and eyes the color of a brewing storm. Dr. Durnell was persuaded to join us when he learned that The Ciphers help the innocent.

What am I doing?

Should I even go?

A copcan’tknow these things.

Maybe I don’t need to worry about it. Bear has no reason to look me up, right? Because I’ll spend little time with him, just paint what I need to get down, leave, and do the rest at home. Yes…that’s the smart way. But how will I get the canvas back here? How will I hide that I’m painting a man’s naked body? It’s not like I can plant my 20” x 30” canvas in the corner of the sitting room, where I normally sit cross-legged and paint my little heart out. Not with this piece…if I could get it home.

Wait?

Is that the sound of…

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