The Finished Masterpiece (Master of Trickery Book 3)

by Pepper Winters

My heart picked up its pace.

  Olin Moss: No, he paid me.

  In cash and kisses.

  My thoughts returned to the thick envelope.

  I shouldn’t do it. I knew I shouldn’t. But I couldn’t stop my fingers typing:

  Olin Moss: Random question, but do you know the going rate for a living canvas?

  I liked torturing myself.

  Liked justifying my crazy conclusions.

  Liked chasing rabbits that had no right to make me worry.

  Justin took a few minutes to reply.

  Justin Miller: Eh, I think it’s about three to five hundred per commission. Why?

  I froze.

  Oh, no...

  I’d been right.

  Gil had overpaid me.

  Paid me triple.

  Over triple.

  Why?

  Not only had Gil kissed me while trembling with things he couldn’t survive, but he’d tarnished that kiss with money.

  He’d ruined it.

  Successfully hurt me all over again.

  Will he ever stop?

  I suddenly didn’t want to talk after all.

  I wanted to finish my wine and sleep. To run away from scars and body painters, money and heartbreak.

  Olin Moss: No reason. Hope you have a good night!

  Without waiting for his response, I closed Facebook in a rush.

  I went to shut the laptop, but an email icon showed I had a reply from an office position I’d forgotten I’d applied to.

  Some sterile building with its depressing cubicles and mind-numbing tasks. But at least a steady paycheque that meant I get to keep my clothes on and heart intact.

  From: Static Enterprises

  Subject: Interview for receptionist

  Dear Ms Moss,

  Thank you for your interest in our company and your resume. We are pleased to invite you to an interview tomorrow at three p.m. at our downtown location.

  Please advise if this is convenient.

  I didn’t hesitate to reply.

  A steady job.

  A ticket out of bankruptcy.

  Something to focus on so I didn’t lose myself in the labyrinth that was Gilbert Clark.

  If my interview went well and they offered me the job, I would visit Gil and give him his money back.

  I’d look into his eyes and demand answers.

  I would fight one final time for us.

  Chapter Nine

  ______________________________

  Gil

  -The Past-

  “HEY.” I SHOVED my hands deeper into my tattered jeans pockets and smiled, pretending I hadn’t run here from home or stolen a bottle of deodorant to ensure I smelled semi-decent.

  Olin jolted, one hand flying to her throat, the other clutching her messenger bag with white fingers. “Oh...hey.” Her eyes switched from shock-wide to suspicious-narrow. “Where did you appear from?”

  I smirked. “Somewhere.”

  She glanced over my shoulder at the mostly empty field behind me. Early bird students straggled in, but the majority of the school were still shoving toast and jam down their throats at home.

  Tilting her head against the sun’s glare, she said quietly, “You’re early.”

  “So are you.”

  She shrugged, still not totally at ease with me even though we’d professed a mutual liking of each other last week. That corridor used to hold nasty memories. Now, it held the best one of my life.

  A small smile tilted her lips. “I’m always early.”

  “I know.” I realised my mistake too late.

  “You do?” Her forehead furrowed.

  Shit.

  “Um...” I raked a hand through too-long hair. “I mean...” Words flew out of my brain. Lies weren’t possible. Truth was too hard. My heart crashed against my ribs in panic. “I’ve...watched you.” I couldn’t look at her. “I don’t mean that in a stalkerish way. I mean...I’ve noticed you.” I swallowed hard. “For a while.”

  Her pretty blush was back, pink and innocent. “You noticed me?”

  I nodded, catching her stare. “You’re the kindest person at school. I like watching you.”

  She blushed deeper. “I’m not kind.”

  “No one else carries Millie’s bag to class because it’s too heavy. No one else brings a newspaper from home for Mr. Scoot to read with his coffee in the staff room.”

  I waited for her to run away screaming. To file a restraining order. To tell me to stop being a creep watching her from the bushes.

  Instead, she studied me in a way that stripped me bare, gave me no place to hide, and made me so grateful I’d been honest. “Is that why you liked watching me? Because I help where I can?”

  I’d never had such intense conversations with anyone. Never been trapped wanting something so fucking much all while petrified of losing it. “Everyone needs help sometimes.”

  “Do you need help?” Her gaze dropped to my scruffy T-shirt and the patches on my jeans. She didn’t sneer at my poverty. She didn’t back away at my bad luck. She was the only student to look at me without any biased opinion or expect me to be violent just because I preferred my own company.

  “In what way?” I did my best to keep my voice neutral and not echo with warning.

  Out of anyone, Olin deserved to know who I was. But I wasn’t ready to share. Not yet.

  “You’re very guarded, anyone ever tell you that?”

  “I don’t talk to other people.”

  “Just me.”

  “Just you.”

  We shared a smile, tension slipping away and leaving us on equal footing again.

  “Life isn’t just about survival, you know,” she whispered softly.

  I reared back. “I didn’t say it was.”

  “I know.” She chewed the inside of her cheek before adding, “I just...I told you things I’ve never told anyone the other day. It made me feel so much better. Crazy really how sharing something I’ve been keeping inside suddenly didn’t make me so sad.” She shielded her eyes from the sun. “I guess all I’m saying is, I owe you.”

  “Don’t I owe you?”

  “No. You gave me a secret. You said you...um, liked me.”

  I looked away. “That doesn’t really count.”

  “It does.” Her smile turned softer. “Besides, I don’t expect to know more unless you really want me to.”

  “Why did revealing your secret make you feel better?” I deflected the subject off me, striding toward the yawning entrance of our school, stupidly pleased when Olin kept pace.

  The building with its red bricks was weathered and its glass smudged, but the institutional box with its no-nonsense architecture had a sense of sturdiness that said, for the hours of education, I was safe within its walls.

  Tension from a sleepless night and a cuff around the back of my head at two a.m. this morning slid down my spine as the shadows of the foyer welcomed us back.

  Tuesday.

  A good day.

  Four full days within a classroom where the mess of my world couldn’t find me.

  I sighed heavily, annoyed that my thoughts had darkened while Olin walked by my side. It wasn’t fair to her goodness to be thinking of the cesspit I lived in.

  Olin took her time answering, her face determined as if her answer was important. Which it was. Everything about her was important.

  I wanted to ask every question and steal every answer. I wanted to know what her favourite drink was. What did she do after school? Did she have any hobbies? Did she have a dog or a goldfish? What did she think about late at night in bed?

  I trembled with the need to skip past the awkwardness and find comfort in each other. I wasn’t cut out for honesty and ripping scabs off emotional wounds. I was drawn to her because she was safe. Telling her who I was didn’t feel safe.

  It could ruin our friendship. And friendship with Olin had the power to be the most valuable thing in my life.

  Entering our classroom, Olin finally said, “
I think it made me feel better because it doesn’t sound so bad out loud. Sure, I miss my parents. Sure, they’re not home a lot and I’m an only child. And sure, compared to my friends who have mums and dads who cook for them and scold them for not doing their homework, I’m a little lonely. But...I’m also so much luckier than most.”

  My heart once again swelled for this incredible, forgiving girl.

  “I have a house. A bed. Blankets. There’s electricity for heating and TV. There’s a kitchen to make pancakes. There’s even space in the garden that’s a perfect place to dance.” She sighed happily. “So you see, I might not have everything, but I have so much too. So that’s why I feel better. It made me focus on what I do have and not what I don’t.”

  “That’s why you help others...’cause you’re grateful?”

  “Isn’t that why anyone helps? Because of empathy and the knowledge that someone out there has it way harder than you? Even on those bad days, we’re still alive and—”

  “It’s not that simple.” I walked away, tossing my bag beneath my desk. Kicking it farther into the shadows, I didn’t want her to see the ketchup stains or rips. I’d pulled it from a dumpster behind a local fast food joint a few months ago because I had no money to buy one and my father would never dream of providing for me.

  I supposed she was right.

  I might not have much, but I had a bag. I had a bed to sleep in—when I wasn’t being abused. I had school.

  I have her.

  My hackles dropped as I turned to face her.

  “Life can be as simple or as complicated as we make it.” Olin slipped her bag off her shoulder, letting it slouch onto the floor by her desk. “But I’ll shut up now. I get the feeling you don’t really want to talk about this.”

  I scowled. “What gave you that impression?”

  She made no move to sit. The empty classroom echoed a little, the sterile walls and lack of decoration making it seem as if we didn’t belong without a teacher present.

  What would Ms Tallup say if she knew we were here alone?

  I shuddered a little.

  I loathed Ms Tallup. I loathed her as much as I feared her, and I had a healthy dose of fear. I’d lived through far worse people than a strict woman with a stick up her ass, but instinct was a powerful thing in my world.

  And instinct told me to be careful of her.

  “You’re shutting down on me.” Olin smiled gently.

  “How can you tell?”

  She laughed. “The clenched fists are a dead giveaway.”

  I looked down, deliberately spreading my fingers. “Oh...sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  Awkwardness settled again. Silence thick and filled with nervous heartbeats.

  The quietness grew too painful. I blurted, “If your parents are absentee, what do you do after school?” At the same time, she rushed, “You know, you smell like oranges.”

  We froze, letting our voices tangle together.

  We smiled hesitantly.

  We laughed softly.

  The tension cracked and ebbed away.

  I relaxed, tasting the ease that could be between us. What would that be like? To trust her above all others? To care for her? To protect her? To...love her?

  I knew what connection was supposed to be like thanks to books and the occasional glimpse of TV, but I had nothing to compare it to in my own life. No role model to copy. No guidelines to follow.

  All I had was the undying, unselfish desire to be whatever Olin needed, and it drove me mad that I didn’t know what that was yet.

  “The smell is my deodorant.” I shrugged. “It’s overpowering.”

  She leaned closer, inhaling deep.

  My heart literally exploded.

  Her eyes glowed. “I like it. Whenever I think of oranges, I’ll think of you.”

  “You think of oranges often?”

  “I will now.” Her gaze dropped to the floor as another blush dusted her cheeks. “I mean...um, of course not. Who thinks of fruit? That’s just weird.” A strained chuckle fell from her lips.

  Her reaction to innocent flirting made me tremble. Made me want to keep her.

  I’d never kissed anyone.

  I wanted her to be my first.

  To taste those pretty lips and feel her delicate body against mine.

  I swallowed hard as my heart thundered and body swelled.

  I thought I could handle just being her friend until I made her mine, but I hadn’t factored in the insane amount of affection I already had for her and the hunger that had been building for years.

  I want you, O.

  More than you can ever know.

  Once again, silence squeezed between us, making everything so damn difficult.

  What came next? What should I say that would be articulate, funny, and hide just how desperate I was to have her be mine?

  “You know...” I squeezed the back of my neck. “Your name starts with O. Like oranges. Maybe I’ll associate you with fruit too, and we can both think of each other when—” I cut myself off with a groan. “Forget I said that. Super cheesy.”

  She giggled; silence once again banished to the empty corners of the room. “You’re not at all like I expected.”

  Our eyes locked. “What did you expect?”

  “Oh, I dunno.” She waved her hand. “Brooding, sarcastic...mean. You skulk into class and don’t talk to anyone. You have a reputation for being dangerous.”

  “Dangerous?” I grinned, enjoying the fact that she’d been aware of me more than I realised. “Do you think I’m dangerous?”

  She looked me up and down, raking heat along my skin with her stare. “Maybe. I don’t know you yet.”

  “You know me better than anyone in this school.”

  “How is that possible? This is our second conversation.”

  “I’m selective.”

  “I heard you were a loner.”

  “That too.”

  “Why?” She cocked her head, sending dark blonde hair scattering over her baby blue top.

  “Because I don’t trust easy.”

  “Can you trust me?”

  I pinned her to the spot with honesty. “I already trust you.”

  She frowned. “And what did I do to deserve such an honour?”

  My heart fell and the simpleness of our conversation veered into tricky territory. Moving toward her slowly, I dared reach out and, with a slightly shaking hand, cupped her cheek.

  The second I touched her, whatever remaining pieces of myself that were still mine switched owners.

  I was hers.

  Totally.

  Undoubtedly.

  My mouth went dry as my heart crashed around my ribcage.

  She froze. Her teeth sank into her bottom lip. Her eyes turned wide. “Um, Gil?”

  I swallowed hard, unable to tear my gaze from her mouth.

  I couldn’t reply.

  I put all my attention into not clutching her close and kissing her. My self-control almost snapped, my fingertips bruising her beautiful skin, but she didn’t pull away.

  She didn’t believe the rumours to avoid the surly, argumentative bad boy.

  She gave me the benefit of the doubt and that made me so damn grateful that she trusted me.

  Trust.

  You’re mine, O.

  You just don’t know it yet.

  My thumb traced her cheekbone. I stepped closer until we were inches apart. My voice was as heavy as my heart as I whispered, “Who said anything about it being an honour?”

  She gasped as I pulled her into me, deleting the space between us. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing, but I couldn’t stop.

  Her gaze travelled from my eyes to my lips to my jaw. And the raw desire on her pretty innocent face shadowed with dismay.

  Swaying backward, she slipped from my touch.

  I let my arm fall, jerking in surprise when she touched me in return.

  I couldn’t breathe as the softest fingers traced my jawline, dancing
over stubble I couldn’t quite shave, sending my pulse hammering in my ears.

  I’d never been touched so kindly before. Never had blood gush around my body in such a frenzy.

  “Olin...what—” I cleared my throat, cursing breathlessness and crazed heartbeats. “What are you doing?”

  Leaning into me, she ran her finger by my ear, a frown replacing tentative desire. “You’re hurt.”

  Her voice no longer hypnotised me but brought me back to reality with a painful crash. “What?”

  She held up her hand, revealing a streak of blood between her fingers. Her eyes widened with concern. “Oh, no. You’re bleeding.” She moved to come closer, to investigate the wound she should never have found.

  I backed up instantly, rubbing at the streak of violence I hadn’t seen.

  So he did break the skin last night.

  I’d felt the pain of his old class ring whack into my skull.

  I’d swallowed stolen aspirin to dull the throb.

  “Gil...are you okay?” Olin wiped the redness on her jeans, not caring it smeared on the denim. “Come here, I’ll care for you. We’ll go to first aid and—”

  “I’m fine.” My voice no longer held any teasing or tenderness. It was cold and sarcastic—the same tone I used with every student and teacher.

  I refused to let her think I was weak.

  That I couldn’t protect her just because I couldn’t protect myself.

  I needed to leave.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Not bothering to grab my backpack, I rushed from the classroom just as Ms Tallup arrived.

  Chapter Ten

  ______________________________

  Olin

  -The Present-

  “THE JOB IS yours, Miss Moss. If you’d like to join our team, of course.”

  Sitting on the bus, travelling from downtown to the industrial area, I ran through the interview in my mind. The women’s nasally voice repeated in my brain. “The job is yours, Miss Moss. The job is yours.”

  It was a good thing they’d offered employment.

  A great thing.

  However, I couldn’t quite get excited, which made me feel like a terrible human being.

  I’d accepted graciously, gratefully, and taken the contract to read overnight. They wanted me to start tomorrow. The salary was shockingly terrible, but the job didn’t demand highly skilled people—merely desperate ones to answer the phones, troubleshoot the website, and be a general ‘fetch-it girl’.