Page 95 of There Are No Saints

Apple Music → geni.us/no-saints-apple

Sonia grabs my shoulder, already well on her way to drunk. It takes me a second to recognize her because she’s dressed as Beetlejuice, complete with plunging black-and-white-striped suit, corpse makeup, and her gray bob sprayed lime green.

“Congratulations on selling your painting!” she cries with a valiant effort not to slur her words in the presence of her boss. “I wasn’t surprised, but I’m damn happy for you.”

“I know you are,” I say, squeezing her shoulder in return. “You’re my fairy godmother, after all.”

“Sheis?” Cole demands. “Then what am I?”

“I don’t know,” I say, looking him up and down. “You’re more like . . . the goblin king in the middle of the maze.”

“What does that mean?” he frowns.

“Haven’t you seenLabyrinth?”

I can tell by his scowl that he hasn’t.

“You’re missing out!” Sonia cries. “David Bowie in those tight pants . . . it’s classic.”

Cole gives a dismissive shrug, but I can tell he’s annoyed. He hates not knowing things.

“Do you want a drink?” he asks me.

“Sure—whatever they have. I’m not picky.”

He disappears into the crowd, searching for the bar.

Sonia cocks her head to the side, regarding me with a curiosity that cuts through her inebriation.

“Do you know why Cole smashed his solar model?” she asks me.

I stare at her. “Are you talking about the Olgiati?”

“The one and only.”

“You’re kidding. Isn’t that worth like . . . all the money?”

“Three million at least. He shattered it with a golf club. Busted it into a billion pieces.”

My stomach churns. I hate the thought of something so unique being destroyed.

“You think he did it on purpose?”

“I know he did.”

“Why?”

“That’s what I’m asking you.”

I shake my head. “I have no idea why he does anything he does.”

“I thought you might . . . it was the same day he hung your painting on his wall.”

Now I do understand, though I try to keep my jaw from falling open so Sonia doesn’t see it.

Fucking hell . . . he smashed his favorite glasswork because of me?

My skin goes clammy wondering what he would have done with that golf club if I were standing in the room with him instead . . .all of a sudden I feel like I got off light with a non-consensual tattoo.

---