Page 7 of Sins and Secrets

The stool rolls and he’s gone.

I need to fill three hours of small talk with Lukas. I can do this. We have a lot in common. I have about fifteen years of experience to build on. Surely, I can come up with something. “How was Seattle?”

“I got back a year and a half ago.” I feel pinprick pressure on my back. I flinch and he says, “It’s only the marker outline. No ink yet, okay?”

“Ok.” No needles yet, I’ve got this. “How was it to be back where you grew up?”

“Weather sucked, but it was nice to be with old friends and a few mentors.” He’s quiet for a beat. “It's not home.”

“And here is?”

“This shop is.” He cracks his knuckles before returning to his work.

The studio is bright and clean, and each artist has their own chaotic station filled with toys, stickers, and trophies reflecting their personality. Between cartoon dinosaurs, realistic looking Pokemon, concert posters, and anime stickers, it has an 'all are welcome’ vibe. “I can see why. It's amazing.”

“Thanks.” His voice drops like I’m not supposed to hear his gratitude. “How's your grandma?”

The question seems innocent enough, but it guts me he has to ask. “She died two years ago.”

Nana was complicated. She was one of four grandmas who were the glue holding different crime families together. Nana was my mother's mom. Crime runs deep through the blood of the women in my family. But everyone else worked hard to make sure it skipped me.

Lukas lifts his fingers away from my skin. “Shit, I'm sorry.”

“Nana had a good life. She died peacefully in her sleep.” It was a better fate than most of the people I know.

Hydrangeas need to be cut back in the fall for better and stronger growth, but the year she passed away, it didn’t happen. Now the flowers don’t bloom as bold and bright, and it looks sort of straggly, like a ghost of its former glory. I lost more than my Nana. Honestly I didn’t even think about them until now.

His voice drops. “We don't have to do this. Small talk.”

Message received. Conversation over. I’m not sure what stings more, him carving into my flesh with needles or his rejection.

“Outline’s done,” Lukas says. He moves around from behind me and hands me a mirror. “If there's anything you don't like, tell me now.” He sounds stern and annoyed. “Don't pull one of your Waverly moves where you say it's fine when it's not.”

Well, that definitely stings worse than the needle.

To get away from his judgment, I sit up, and black specks fill my vision. The wobbles start as the ever-shrinking world spins out of control, and my head throbs.

Arms wrap around my shoulders. “Easy, nice and slow.”

Lukas smells like rubber gloves, rubbing alcohol, and sandalwood. His heady scent makes me even more dizzy. He holds me steady as the pounding slowly fades away and my brain stops screaming. I should say I’m okay, but I’m soaking in the guilty pleasure of being so close to him for a second longer.

The backdoor swings open and blinding light floods in through the studio, breaking the spell. “I'm fine now.” See? I can fake it till I make it.

Sliding off the table, my feet touch the ground like a cat touching snow for the first time. Lukas keeps his grip on me. It isn't until I’m stable that he takes his hands off but lets them hover inches off my skin, ready to grab me again if I start to fall. I twist to look at my back in the mirror, and the very detailed purple outline of hydrangeas looks incredible and complex. God, this is going to take forever. “It's beautiful.”

“What about the leaf on the corner? Do you want it up higher?”

“No, it's perfect.” It’s a thousand times better than I imagined.

“Are you ok, or do you need a break?”

Lukas watches me through narrowed eyes, but I'm already laying down. “I'm fine, you can do your thing.”

The rest of the time goes by without any incidents. Lukas works and doesn't speak. I only know when he's done because he taps on my back. “Jade will give you instructions about care until your next session.”

This time, I lift myself carefully, not wanting to black out again. Lukas looks at me like I’m a baby antelope he’s trying not to startle.

“Waverly,” he starts, “try to stay out of trouble.”

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