Page 110 of You're so Bad

It’s funny, but I haven’t been thinking about Bianca and Colter and their war against my monster mugs. They’ve barely blipped on my mind after Bianca sent the message cancelling today’s photoshoot. A couple of weeks ago, it seemed incredibly important to show her that she couldn’t get to me, but now…

Do I really care what she thinks of me?

“Maybe we shouldn’t bother destroying them,” I say.

“Quit your crazy talk.” He takes my hand and starts walking in the wrong direction with a confidence that makes me laugh.

I swivel him around. “I think you’ll find they’re this way. Why’s it crazy talk? I honestly couldn’t give a shit about either of them or their wedding.”

“But if we make Josie’s predictions come true, we’ll be cementing that woman’s career as a psychic. People will talk about her predictions of the future for years to come. We’ll be modern-day heroes. Besides, we’ll also teach Bianca and Champ a valuable lesson.”

“And what’s that?” I say as we get close to The Paint Place.

“Fuck around and find out, that’s what.”

He whistles as he steps in and catches sight of the piece Reese is working on. They started off sketching, then sketched on the canvases and took out the paint. He’s painting a little black cat. Bean, to be specific.

“Well, dip me in chocolate and call me a sundae.”

Reese turns and grins. “This place is the shit, Leonard.”

“It sure is,” he agrees, nodding to Rafe.

There’s a smile playing on Rafe’s lips, and even though he looks like he wants to pull some macho bullshit, he’s too pumped up to go for it. “This kid is something else,” he says.

Reese looks embarrassed, but Leonard says, “I got the sense that a future Picasso stole my shoes.”

“Don’t you know anything about art, man?” Reese says. “Picasso drew messed-up faces and shit.”

Leonard puts his arm around my back as he laughs. “No, my friend. I don’t know jack about art. Maybe y’all can teach me.”

“I was waiting for you to ask,” I tell him.

ChapterTwenty-Eight

Leonard

I’m a shit painter, but it’s fun. Rafe’s a good guy, but he does pull me aside, as predicted, to tell me that ifIfuck around, I’m gonna find out. I’d have thought less of him if he hadn’t.

“I have a feeling you’re not the only one who’d teach me a lesson,” I say, nodding in Tiger’s direction. She’s talking to Reese with a hand on her hip, her gaze on his canvas. Maybe painting isn’t the poison she’s picked, but she’s still in her element in this place, and it’s sexy as hell. “She’s not the kind of woman you screw over. Colter’s about to learn that.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Because of her, or because of you?”

“Both of us. They did her dirty, and they deserve to be reminded of it.”

“I’m with you on that. You’re the one who helped the kid?”

“Shauna did too,” I say, because he’s staying at her house, and she has a much clearer sense of what she’s doing than I probably ever will.

“You did good,” he says. And even though I’ve only known him for a couple of weeks, it means something, hearing that.

We spend another hour or so messing around in The Paint Place, and then Shauna takes us over to The Clay Place to give us a clay demo. Of course, my giant dick is sitting out in the middle of the work room. Damn, I forgot what a veiny bastard we made. It’s a masterpiece.

Reese notices it immediately, of course. “Is that—”

“Probably exactly what you think it is, kid. My woman here agreed to help me put together a little birthday present for a friend.”

“Seems like a big present,” Rafe says, his mouth twitching.

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