Page 64 of Beautiful Lies
“Outside. Behind the shop.”
“Smoking?”
“Painting.”
“Painting? Really?” she asked, excitement in her voice. “That’s great. I can’t wait to see it.”
“You’ll see it in the gallery.” What a terrifying thought. I didn’t want to see any of my work displayed in a gallery. I cast a critical eye on my work. It wasn’t good enough.
“Wait a minute. You’re not going to show it to me?”
“You love surprises.”
“Well, yeah, but … you won’t let me see it?” she asked incredulously.
I chuckled. “Nope.”
“Oh,” she said, somewhat deflated. “I’m staying in Bay Ridge for a few days. Until my dad gets out of the hospital. Hopefully, I’ll survive all that time with my mom and Lana. Joe just got here … Lana treats him the same way my mom treats my dad. But he still loves her.”
“Love makes people do crazy things.”
“Yeah, I guess it does. Well … I’ll let you get back to your painting.” We hung on the line, neither of us making a move to hang up. But I didn’t really have anything to say. The darkness was closing in on me. I felt that old familiar emptiness gnawing at me.
“I’m glad your dad’s okay. I’ll talk to you later.”
She let out a breath. “Okay. Bye.”
I cut the call and lit a cigarette. It would be easier for Ava if we cut our losses and she moved on with someone new. Even if Ava decided she was ready to be in a relationship with me again, her mother would never accept me into the family. What kind of future could we possibly have together?
Fuck. I smoked my cigarette and lit another one. Three cigarettes later, and I couldn’t fill that hole inside me. I ripped the canvas off the plywood and stuffed it in the garbage can.
Grabbing my hoodie, I walked out the front door and locked it behind me. I needed something to take off the edge. Whiskey, maybe. Alcohol had never been my problem. I’d spent a lifetime trying to be everything my father wasn’t. Funny how that didn’t quite turn out. As I walked the streets, I justified it in my head. Whiskey was the lesser of evils. What harm could it do to throw a few back? I was a drug addict, not an alcoholic, I reasoned, even though I knew damn well it was a slippery slope.
I lit another cigarette, hoping it would take away that itch for something stronger. The devil on my shoulder urged me to give in. Just a little taste. Think how good it would feel. The burn of the whiskey when it hit your throat, heat spreading throughout your body, numbing the pain.
The bouncer at the door asked to see some ID. I showed him my license and he peered at my face then back at the license before he collected my cover charge and stamped my hand.
I descended the stairs to the basement club, subconsciously looking for Danny Vargas. I hadn’t been to The Candy Store in two years, but this had always been one of his hangouts. I weaved through the crowd, scoring a spot at the bar next to two women in tiny dresses. The blonde smiled at me, her eyes roving over my face and down my body. “Hey.” She leaned in close and dragged a finger down my chest. “Just when I thought this night was a bust, you walked in…”
“Sorry, babe. I’ve got a girlfriend.”
She pouted. “Why are all the good ones taken?”
I wasn’t good. Far from it. But my line did the trick, and she and her friend disappeared into the crowd in search of something better. “What do ya need?” the bartender asked.
“Jameson. A double.”
He grabbed the bottle from the shelf and poured a double, setting the glass in front of me. I handed him a twenty and stared at the amber liquid before I wrapped my hand around the glass and lifted it to my lips.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I read the text from Ava.
AVA:I don’t care what my mom says. She doesn’t know you like I do. I’m not sure anyone does.
Two seconds later another message came through.
AVA:I love this tattoo. The dragonfly is my new spirit animal. It symbolizes change and transformation.
What in the hell was I doing in this club?
