Color Me Pretty

by Celeste, B.

  Again. The wrong thing to say. If steam could physically blow out of people’s ears, it would definitely be coming out of Theo’s. “If I didn’t have somewhere to be, I’d tell you exactly what my thoughts are on what we haven’t ‘discussed’ before now.”

  I blinked.

  He took another step forward until there was barely any room between our bodies. “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. How smart, kind, and beautiful you are on the inside and out. I really fucking wish…” Teeth grinding, he shook his head. “I don’t have time right now. Tonight.”

  Tonight? “Theo, maybe we should—”

  “Not now, Della.”

  Was he kidding me? He was about to say something that would probably change everything, and he didn’t want to talk about it now? “What is so important you can’t stay here and discuss this now with me? What’s more important than finally talking about u—”

  “It’s complicated, Della! Christ.” He swiped a palm through his hair. “Don’t act like I haven’t been here for you, haven’t been showing you what all of this is to me. If I had women calling, I wouldn’t be sleeping on your goddamn couch and waking up with a raging fucking boner and a knot in my shoulders the size of Texas.”

  Flinching, I knew he was right. Sort of. It wasn’t like Theo ever had a lot of women calling him before. In fact, I didn’t know of any that really bothered him. I wasn’t naïve enough not to think that meant he didn’t have…company when he needed it. That was beyond the point. He was upset, so was I. Everything I was trying to say was making it worse.

  “Fine.” My voice cracked as I stepped back, putting a sliver of space between us. “Fine. Okay. Go have your meeting with Flamell.”

  He tipped his head back and sighed at the ceiling, swiping his palms down his face. “I know I can be an asshole, but I’m not trying to be. It’s not that I don’t want to clear the air between us, I need to handle this first.”

  I nodded.

  Pinning me with his eyes again, he said, “I mean it, Della. I’m not saying that this is more important than you. Understand?”

  Even though I didn’t like the nature of his tone, how condescending it felt, I nodded. Again. What else could I do? Theo had never lied to me before, so why would he now? He hadn’t made me feel like I wasn’t important before, so there was no point to assume that was what was happening. “Understood.”

  He watched me for too long, another sigh escaping him nearly inaudibly, before he shook his head and pulled me into his body. “I’ll see you tonight, okay?” His lips pressed against the crown of my skull as my arms wrapped around his waist in a tight hug.

  I wanted to ask him to stay, wanted to beg him to give me something. I did neither. I nodded into his chest, breathed in his scent, and stepped back to watch him leave.

  When the door clicked closed behind him, I dropped onto the couch and stared at the blank TV screen. As soon as I turned my phone back on a few minutes later, there was a text waiting.

  Theo: I already miss you.

  Divers was loud when I entered, searching for the face that had called me in tears too early for a bar rescue. Tugging my father’s leather jacket tighter around the maxi dress I’d thrown on quickly, I found the head of raven black hair sitting at the corner of the bar counter.

  “Kat?” She turned her head instantly, cheeks damp and eyes bloodshot. Was she…? “I didn’t mean to take so long. Are you okay?”

  She blinked at me. “You came.” Her voice was raspy, hoarse, like she’d been crying for a while. Taking the stool beside her, I slid down as the bartender came over with caution in his eyes.

  “Of course, I did.” I shook my head when the bartender asked if I wanted something to drink. Then, on second thought, said, “Water?” When he set it down in front of me, I smiled and slid it to Katrina. She murmured something, not touching the cold glass.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked her, hoping she’d meet my eyes. When she didn’t, I knew it was something big. “Kat?”

  Her head dipped down—the bright eyeshadow painted on her lids the same extravagant color as normal but nowhere near as comforting as it should have been. She had eyeliner smudged under her bottom lashes, making my frown deepen as I examined her paled expression. “I messed up, Della. Real bad.”

  “How?”

  When she finally looked up, there was guilt weighing down her eyes. It made me lock up, my stomach heavy like I was expecting the worst. My father gave me the same look once. It was the day he was sentenced, right before they took him away for good. Right to his death. He’d looked at me, his eyes burdened, bittersweet emotion in his rugged smile, and said, “I love you, Adele. Remember that.”

  “How, Kat?” I repeated, voice breaking, a knot of nerves hanging onto each letter that passed my lips.

  Her hands drifted from her lap to the counter, fingers wrapping around the glass but not moving it an inch. “Sam.” Shoulders tightening, she clenched the glass with white knuckles until I thought she’d break it. “Della, do you still have it?”

  Brows pinching, I asked, “Have what?”

  Her eyes looked around the room before meeting mine again. “It. Do you have it? What I gave you?” My lips parted for a moment before snapping closed.

  “Oh my god.” Oh god. The purse in my lap suddenly felt heavier. Much heavier. I hadn’t thought a lot about what I’d kept hidden in the inner compartment since the day I’d dropped it in there.

  Kat’s eyes widened wider than mine. “I messed up, Della, but I’m trying to fix it. You have to believe me.”

  “What are you—”

  “Give it to me,” she whispered urgently, her hand snaking out toward my bag. I kept a firm grip on it, jerking it away. “Della, I mean it. I’m not trying to use. You can’t have it.”

  “Are you crazy?” I hissed, getting off the stool and glaring at her. Was that why she made me come? Why she’d been crying? Because she was coming down and needed another hit? “You need help, Kat.”

  “I’m not going to use it—”

  “Is there a problem?” The bartender looked between us again, his eyes focused on Kat and her shaky hands and red-rimmed eyes. I didn’t blame him for being suspicious. She was clearly unwell. And I’d walked right into it.

  “No,” I told him after a moment of breathing. I didn’t want to cause a scene, and certainly didn’t want the cops called. “We’re all right,” I assured him when he didn’t move. It took him a moment before he bobbed his head and walked back to the other end of the bar as an older gentleman called out a food order.

  Turning to Kat, I gave her a once over again. Slowly. I was beginning to understand why people always talked about my appearance. It was easy to see when other people were falling apart, even if they hadn’t experienced it firsthand. Watching Kat, her ticks, her harsh breathing, her darting eyes, I’d seen what everybody probably saw of me for so long.

  A broken girl.

  “You need help,” I told her again, hoping she’d listen to the urgency in my own tone. I didn’t want to see her break. I’d known what that was like and wanted to help. I knew Ren, Tiffany, so many people, have told me not to worry about other people’s problems. I couldn’t ignore it. Kat had been my friend once. We were long past that, though. Our friendship was a distant memory.

  Taking a hesitant step toward her, I took a deep breath and added, “It’s okay to admit. It doesn’t make you weak, I promise. People will probably say it does, but you just need to surround yourself with people who will support you instead.”

  I swore I was getting to her when I saw her eyes soften. Then, at the last second, her jaw ticked, and she scoffed. Scoffed like she had the day I walked away from her at her place when I wouldn’t join them. The day she’d given me what she was after. How could I have forgotten I’d had it? It wasn’t like she’d given me counterfeit money. I had drugs in my purse. Drugs that I kept because I thought she’d been right at one time. I believed I’d needed that escape, that possibilit
y of what she said it could do for my weight and energy.

  How stupid was I?

  She stood, pushing herself up from the counter and shaking her head adamantly. “I’m not asking for me. If you care as much as you pretend to, then listen to me. I want to help.”

  “And I want to help you—”

  “Samantha’s father is after you!” Her rushed words caught more than just my attention. A few people sitting around us looked our way with drawn brows.

  “What?”

  “Samantha’s dad, Richard Pratt.” She stepped toward me again, but I didn’t move this time. “I messed up. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I can’t fix it if you don’t give it back.”

  Samantha’s dad? Wasn’t that who Theo had warned me about before? He hadn’t liked any of the girls or their families, but he warned me with a conviction that was beyond riches and selfishness. He knew something that he wasn’t telling me, and Kat knew too.

  “What is he trying to do?”

  I could tell how badly she pleaded for me to listen, but I needed something. Handing over what she wanted could end just as badly as not. Where would that leave me? Us? “You need to tell me something that would make me believe you’re not just asking for…” I gestured toward my bag, hoping the prying eyes didn’t know what was going on.

  The bartender was watching us a little too carefully in between customers, and I wanted to move the conversation somewhere else but needed the comfort of a public place for protection. I wished I hadn’t felt that tinge of panic in my gut, the mistrust, but it was going to save me in the long run from people like Kat.

  What she said was something I hadn’t expected, hadn’t anticipated at all. “Everybody knows that you and Theodore West are each other’s weaknesses. You love each other, Della. Richard Pratt wants to exploit that like he’s done before.”

  I stared.

  Unblinking.

  Unbreathing.

  “You love him,” she stated. There was no question, no doubt in her thickened words. “He loves you too. Sam’s dad uses people’s love for those they care about against them. He’ll do it to you too.”

  I swallowed. “You don’t know that.” I hadn’t been talking about Sam’s father.

  To my surprise, she knew that and smiled. It was sad and distant but knowing. “But you do.”

  Closing my eyes, I counted to three and inhaled slowly. The thump thump thump of my heart was hard and heavy in my chest, echoing throughout my body as I reached for my bag and unzipped the top to dig out what she wanted. When I looked at her again, she’d stepped toward me, taking my hand like two friends comforting each other. That wasn’t why she did it. The small baggy disappeared from my palm and into hers, her hand dropping back to her body mere seconds after getting what she wanted.

  “I do,” I told her thickly, staring at the floor. Theo hadn’t told me he loved me, but I knew it. It was because I loved him that I couldn’t fight her on this anymore. For once, I was choosing to fight my own battles. I was choosing myself.

  I chose him.

  “Get help, Kat.” That was the last thing I told her before walking out of Divers, calling Dallas, and waiting at my apartment for the person I’ve loved forever.

  Theo.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Theo

  Dallas was quiet when I opened the back door of the sleek, black tinted car and slid onto the cool leather seat. The subtle clearing of his throat over the air conditioner blowing had me eyeing him in the rearview. “What?”

  “Della met with Katrina Murphy today.”

  Jaw hardening, I straightened in the seat, forgoing the seatbelt. “When was that?”

  He pulled out onto the street, getting in line with the backed-up traffic. “An hour ago, boss. Maybe a little more. I tried asking her if she was all right, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Thought you should know that it looked like she was crying.”

  What the hell was she doing with the Murphy girl? She’d told me months ago they weren’t friends anymore, especially since the other two were being prima donna bitches to her like their fucking mothers were to everyone. “She didn’t say anything?”

  “No.”

  “You sure she was crying?” It was rare Della did that around anyone. She told me once she didn’t like people seeing her weak, which was bullshit. Her mother always told her it was okay to cry. What the hell had she told Della for years when she was little? “The sky isn’t weak, is it, sweet Della? It cries too sometimes.”

  Elizabeth always told Della stories about Greek mythology—how everything and everybody had a place. Della would always ask her to tell her a new one or repeat her favorites. Shit, she’d compared me and a few of Anthony’s other friends to the Gods themselves. Maybe it was that day I knew that little girl owned me. Her words didn’t pump my ego, they wrapped me around her finger. Either way, Zeus had been her favorite. She’d told me stories about the sky and the storms and how much she wished she were a goddess. I’d told her she was. Elizabeth would always smile and shake her head at me.

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Fuck,” I sighed, looking out the window. I’d planned on going home to change before meeting Della, but things changed. “Take me to her complex, would you?”

  I saw the faintest smile in the rearview, before he’d answered, “I already planned on it. Knew you’d want to see her once I told you.”

  Blinking slowly, I eyed him. “That obvious?”

  “You’re there for her,” was all he said.

  A noise rose from the back of my throat that wasn’t really an answer. Dallas chuckled anyway, amused for a reason I had no interest in exploring. He could think what he wanted, I wasn’t going to think about it more than I needed to.

  After a moment of silence between us that was filled with cars honking, people yelling, and construction work from 3rd Avenue, I said, “Do you know if she was okay?”

  That damn smile grew. “She seemed as okay as she could be. Just upset. I know she used to be friends with Katrina, but…” I waited impatiently for him to finish as he moved forward once the light ahead turned green. “Well, the girl is using. Word on the street is that she’s distributing to the Pratt and Vandyke girl. A few others, too. Flamell has some pictures of them over on the south side, near the warehouse where Richard Pratt has a few businesses. The Murphy girl was with a group he couldn’t identify. Dealing for him, probably.”

  I couldn’t believe it. “You’re just telling me this now? Flamell didn’t say shit to me about that. If there’s more evidence that Pratt is letting people like his goddamn friend’s daughter distribute, then—”

  Dallas sighed heavily. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to get involved, boss. Think about Della. Flamell knows you two are close. If you take that information and run with it, what would that do to her?”

  “She was around somebody who’s clearly unstable. If she’s using and dealing, Della shouldn’t be around her.”

  “I’m sure she knows that.”

  “Then what the fuck is the problem?”

  “They were friends,” he pointed out lightly, locking eyes with me in the mirror. “Even if they aren’t anymore, we both know Della will always hold some sort of loyalty to people that were in her life. She wouldn’t want to see Kat brought down.”

  Fuck me. He was right and he damn well knew it when he nodded once. Sometimes, I wanted to shake Della until sense was brought to her, but that was selfish of me. Her loyalty wasn’t a bad thing. “She’d want to see her get help instead,” I agreed, shaking my head.

  Dallas hummed in agreement.

  Cursing, I looked at my watch. “What’s Flamell going to do about it then?”

  There was a brief pause. “What you can’t.”

  I stared at the back of his head until understanding sunk in. “He’s going to go after the girls to get them to talk. There’d be no way for Pratt to get off with a slap on the wrist with actual witnesses testifying against him on top of the other
evidence.”

  Again, Dallas nodded.

  Sitting back, I watched the scenery pass slowly by us. Rush hour was always a pain in the ass, but it wasn’t too different from any other time of day when you were in the city. It was suffocating, loud. I’d considered moving more times than I could count, but never did. I didn’t want to be too far away from Della.

  I spoke up again. “Everybody seems to know what Della is to me. Isn’t always a good thing considering Pratt is trying to use it against me. Here I thought I was discreet.”

  “Do you want people to know?”

  “Eventually,” I murmured.

  “If you don’t mind me saying—” I chuckled over his cautiousness, it never stopped him from sharing his two cents. “I don’t think people care as much as Pratt, or you, think they would.”

  “And why is that?”

  A shoulder lifted as he glanced at me in the mirror again. “You two are the kind of people that others inspire to be like. They want fairytales, not ghost stories.”

  “Who says we’re a fairytale?”

  “You’ve loved her for a long time.”

  “Not like—”

  “Exactly, boss. You’ve loved her in a thousand different ways. That kind of love is the well-rounded story people want. You don’t only see her as some young girl who looks up to you. You see her for what she grew into. You’re supportive and protective and willing to do anything for her, just like her parents would have wanted.”

  “I doubt Anthony would have been okay with what I’m doing with his daughter, Dallas,” I mused dryly.

  He laughed softly. “Probably not. But, not to be disrespectful, he isn’t around to tell you not to. He made his bed and doesn’t have a say in how you and Della make yours.”

  I let that sink in for a moment. “You think it really wouldn’t matter to people?”

  “I think hope goes a long way.”

  “Hope?”