by R. J. Blain
“While the court would not appreciate the bill for that, it’s not a bad idea. With your luck, it’s a really good idea, actually.”
“Okay. Have I done anything yet that might land me back in prison?”
“I like that you automatically assume you’re going to do something that will land you back into prison.”
“Well, I’ve met myself. I always land back into prison.”
“Only because you were being used for your artistic ability. That’s not your fault. But I suppose I do need to teach you how to stay out of prison. You aren’t the kind to be happy living in ignorance, are you?”
“I’ve done that enough already. Can we start with the painting supplies?”
“Miss painting already?”
I shrugged. “I’m good at it.”
“Right. Sure. Let’s go buy you some painting supplies. But first, I’ll show you the wonders of a nice bath. This one is a luxury bath, too. It has jets, and I don’t know a single woman who doesn’t like the jets. Dean called around until he found a hotel with a jet tub, as he thought you’d like to indulge. Of course, he didn’t really anticipate you having no idea what a bath is, but that’s all right. I didn’t anticipate that either. Things will be different now, that much I can promise.”
“But will they be better?”
“Yes. You’ll see. Just don’t ask Dean that question. He’ll twist himself into a pretzel trying to prove life is better with him around. And that life is better, period. Actually, ignore me. Ask Dean that question. You deserve a good stallion pampering you, and you’ve passed all of my tests.”
“I have?”
“Layla, you shared your first cupcake without anyone suggesting you should. You personify innocence right up until you tell me you want to shank somebody. Then you’re aware of the realities of the world without really understanding the world you live in. You could teach angels a thing or two about what it means to be pure in spirit. How they cultivated that in a prison, I don’t know, but I won’t see that ruined. And although my brother can be obnoxious, he will take care of you, assuming you let him. That will be an entirely different problem, but one he’ll be happy to have, so don’t you worry about that. For now, worry about enjoying your bath and think about what art supplies you need to paint what you like.”
I could do that. I hoped.
Years of dodging unwanted attention in prison gave me an edge in identifying creeps, but I hadn’t expected two white men in suits to make a run at me while I walked with Xena. To keep men’s filthy mitts off me, I’d learned to act before I thought, and I had jammed my knee in my first assailant’s groin before I registered they were targeting me in the first place.
As a knee to the groin wouldn’t necessarily keep a man down, I grabbed the nearest object I might use as a weapon.
I’d never tried to shank somebody with a purse before, but Xena’s had good heft, and I smacked it into the asshole’s head as hard as I could. It took five solid blows to knock him to the concrete.
“Here. Use this.” Xena held out an empty plastic bottle.
I ignored her, secured my grip on the straps of her purse, and debated how to beat the second man.
He dove behind the wheel of a black car, and his groaning accomplice scrambled to catch up, crawling into the back. The vehicle took off with the back door still open. To my disappointment, the battered asshole somehow stayed inside rather than falling out and being tenderized on the asphalt.
I gave Xena her purse back. “Thank you for loaning me that.”
“You’re welcome. That was a very effective use of your knee. His friend grabbed his crotch in sympathy. And whimpered. I think you relocated his testicles into his skull with that hit. Was beating him with my purse necessary?”
“Yes. He hadn’t gone down with the first hit. Always be sure of your opponent. If they aren’t on the ground writhing and crying, you’re not done with the beating.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised, but I am. Okay. This presents several problems.”
“It does?”
“Well, two well-dressed men just tried to kidnap you, Layla. That’s a problem.”
“But they didn’t.”
“While that’s true, they still tried, and that is a problem. It’s going to be an even bigger problem when my brother finds out. He’ll go ballistic.”
“Math is not my strong point, but even I know several is more than one, and that’s one problem.”
Xena sighed. “You exist to vex me, don’t you?”
“That seems like a reasonable assumption.”
She sighed again, longer and louder. “Someone was waiting for you, knew where you’d be, and tried to kidnap you. That’s three problems.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t care, do you?”
I shrugged. “Your purse made a good weapon. Can I borrow it again if someone tries something like that again?”
“Sure. That said, I think I’m going to buy you a knife. Or a gun. Or a billy club.”
“The prison guards really do not like when the inmates get a hold of any of those three things.”
“You’re not an inmate anymore. I can’t get you a gun since you’re not licensed, but I can get you a knife.”
“Can it be a painting knife?”
“There are painting knives?”
“I can show you, if you show me where painting things can be purchased. Does my card have enough to buy painting supplies?”
“Yes. There’s plenty on your card for painting supplies. I’ll help you with the math in the store. We’ll get a little notebook before we go in, and I’ll teach you how to do math that way. It’ll kill time while my brother deals with a judge and attorneys. Honestly, I think it’ll take him all day. We have a slight edge in our species, but—”
A phone rang in Xena’s purse, and the woman dug into the bag to retrieve it. She tapped on the screen and held it to her ear. “Hello? Oh. Dean. Yes, she’s fine. We’re going to an art store. Everything’s fine. Okay. Sure. I expect we’ll be at the art store for several hours. We’re going to either need a driver, or you’re going to have to take your lazy ass to the driver’s place and do that stupid test to get a license that’s valid on this continent.”
That caught my attention. “Dean has a license that’s not valid on this continent?”
“He was originally licensed to drive in Africa, and well, they don’t really have set rules in that part of the world, so the United States doesn’t like allowing people holding that license to drive on their roads. It leads to accidents. But Dean can drive. And he does a good job. He’s never had an accident. He got a lot of practice in Germany with Mom and Dad.”
I stared at her.
“Dean, just ask the damned judge to get you a license so we can get a vehicle and drive her. You can make those arrangements. Buy a damned car while you’re at it. You can afford it. It won’t take long to get your licensing issue sorted out. You know how to drive, so stop being a pain in my ass. I know you’re a beautiful stallion and the world should admire you, but Layla needs her art supplies, and if I can’t carry a human, I certainly can’t carry her art supplies. I’m planning on turning her loose. She might buy half the store. No, we are not buying a herd of horses so they can carry her stuff. If you get stallions, you’ll get jealous if they like Layla and pissed if they even look at me. You cringe like a wuss around the geldings for some reason, and you hate having to establish to the mares you’re not available for their entertainment. No. That’s final. No horses. Get your damned license like the adult you are. We have those damned species exemptions, so make use of them. I’d get mine, but you bastards won’t let me learn how to drive until I’m able to carry someone. And that, for the record, is ridiculous.”
Xena hung up, growled curses, and shoved her phone back into her purse. “Stupid pig-headed brother!”
“Who is ‘you bastards?’”
“My parents, my brothers, and my older sisters. They seem to think un
less I’m mature enough to carry a ride, I’m not mature enough to drive a car. Ridiculous. I’m the only damned woman my age who can’t drive.”
“Except for me?”
“Well, okay. There are now two of us. It’s so damned frustrating!”
“Why doesn’t Dean have a license, then?”
“He’s a sentimental idiot and feels bad I don’t have a license yet. Actually, I think he’s avoided it because he’s incapable of telling me no.”
Having seen Dean tell Xena no multiple times since meeting them, I raised a brow.
“About things like giving me lessons on how to drive a car. He feels guilty.”
“You two are really crazy, aren’t you?”
“That’s funny, coming from a chick who just kneed a man in the groin and beat him into submission with my purse.”
“If he hadn’t gotten into my space, I wouldn’t have beaten him.”
“You know what? Let’s get out of here before someone calls the cops. Shopping is so much better than dealing with the cops.”
I didn’t have to think on that one long. “Let’s get out of here.”
Xena took me to store after store to prepare me for life as a free woman. First, she took me to a clothing store, subjecting me to several hours of trying on new clothes. Then, as our purchases took five large bags to carry, we returned to the hotel to drop them off before heading to a store that sold phones like hers. The resulting argument amused me. As I didn’t have an address or an identification card, the store didn’t want to sell me a phone. Xena ultimately added me as a user on her account and got me a phone that way.
Given five or ten minutes, I expected she would’ve tried to shank the store employee with her phone.
I questioned the whole phone thing, as I had no idea how to use the damned thing. It went into a purse Xena had picked for me, promising I’d like the purse due to the problem of pockets in women’s pants. It didn’t take me long to realize what she meant.
A few pairs of pants she’d made me purchase had pockets, including the one she’d suggested I wear for the rest of our shopping outage.
Xena saved the art store for last, and the vast quantity of supplies froze me in the entry. Canvases of all sizes waited for me to claim them as mine. Some came primed, some didn’t, and I could do whatever I wanted with them. Xena fetched a cart, and patted it. “To keep things somewhat reasonable, let’s try to limit your purchases to what will fit in this.”
Considering I wanted every canvas in the store, I foresaw a serious problem in my immediate future. “I don’t like that rule.”
“I bet you don’t. Start with the paints, brushes, and whatever else it is you need to paint with, then you can fill the rest of the cart with canvases. If you put the canvases in first, you’ll have to put some back to get the basics.” Xena pointed at a sign hanging from the ceiling. “Paints are that way. What type do you use?”
“Oil.”
“Of course. You’d have to, if they’re trying to use your artwork to create counterfeits. This way!” Xena pushed the cart towards the sign, navigating through a sea of art supplies, sketching supplies, and racks upon racks of markers and other toys I wanted to play with. I’d used markers and sketch books to plan paintings before, and I snagged Xena’s arm, pointing at them.
“What is it?”
“I want those.”
“Okay.” Xena backed up until we stood together, regarding the boggling collection of markers. “You know what? Pick the most expensive markers in all the colors you need. I’ll call Dean and tell him he should get his ass over here and pay for it. He likes saying it’s his job as a stallion to provide for his mare, so he better start providing.”
“Do I have enough money to buy them?”
“Layla, you could probably buy everything in the store and have money left over. If you exceed how much you have, or even get close, I’ll tell you. But you could buy every color—” Xena squinted, bent over, and pointed at something stashed beneath the individual markers. “That set has two hundred colors. Buy that. It’s cheaper per marker that way, and it’s the expensive brand. I’m assuming the expensive brand will be good.”
I found the box and pulled it out from the shelf. It took up a lot of space in the cart, and I frowned.
“Don’t worry about the cart rule. It was a stupid rule anyway. Just keep it to two carts. That’ll fit in whatever the hell vehicle Dean picks up.”
“Dean is going to get mad at us, isn’t he?”
“He’ll stop being angry the instant he sees how happy you are with your new art supplies. Just look really happy when you’re unwrapping everything. That’s how stallions roll. It’ll give him something to do, anyway. It’s easy to get lazy when you’re old and bored. So, funding your art supplies will keep him motivated.”
“Being a unicorn sounds like hard work.”
“Ain’t that the truth. We have to run around in our human form most of the time, since people freak out if they see a unicorn. Can you imagine it? My family is as mixed as it gets. I’m African, my brother’s Greek, my mother’s something-or-other. Actually, Mom doesn’t talk about it, because her people don’t actually exist anymore. Dad looks African, but he’s actually early Roman.”
“Early Roman?”
“Yeah. Dad’s old. Mom isn’t his first mare. His first mare died a long time ago. But most people were dark-skinned unless from a northern clime, and the northerners had a rough time of it. Dad’s darker than Dean, lighter than me, but he looks more like Dean than I do in build and facial structure. Just don’t get Dad started. He’ll start yelling in Latin, Greek, or some other old language. It’s fun when he starts up in Spanish, since his form of Spanish is from when it was first being developed, so nobody who speaks modern Spanish can understand him. If he gets really upset, he’ll start up in Aramaic. It’s part of what we are. Once we hear a language, we can learn to speak it. It’s magic. You’ll develop it should my brother successfully convert you. And the converted keep their original magical abilities, too.”
“I don’t have any magic.”
Xena snorted, and she checked the box of my markers before checking over the racks. She grabbed a few extra markers and tossed them into the cart, before adding several large sketching pads. “You’ve been told you don’t have magic because someone without magic is easier to control and imprison than someone with magic. If the goal was to keep you under their thumb, you probably have some form of ability but were never tested. Ignorance is a good way to keep untrained magic under control if there’s no conditions for the magic to grow or be used.”
Huh. “I hadn’t thought about that.”
“That’s exactly what they want.” Xena narrowed her eyes while regarding my acquisitions. “Okay. You’re covered on markers. If you’re going to be coloring with markers, you’re going to need sketching pencils and that kind of stuff. That’s over here. We’ll grab the most expensive set they have and hope that’s good enough, plus sharpeners and whatever else you might need.”
I had done sketching with pencils, and I recognized one of the brands as something I’d been given to use. I pointed at them. “I’ve used those.”
“And that would be the most expensive set of the lot. They weren’t joking about cultivating your artistic ability. Damn. Can’t make masterpieces without good base supplies, I guess. Oh, well. Dean will pay it, especially when it makes you happy.” Xena added the pencils and more sketch books to the cart. “Onto the paints. Point at the brands you know, and we’ll go from there.”
A dizzying selection of oil paints waited for me, and nothing resembled the tubes I’d used. I shook my head. “I guess they weren’t a brand.”
“Or they hid the brand. They could have been hand mixed to get the formulas right. They sell the pigments so you can make your own paints.”
“I don’t know how to do it.”
“Well, going with the most expensive has worked so far, so we’ll do that. And you don’t need to match pig
ment types with original paintings for this. Modern paints will do what you need, and if the quality isn’t what you want, I guess we can look into mixing your own. Dean will just love having to supply you with everything you need to do that.”
Judging from her tone, Dean would hate everything about it. “What happened to us using the notebook to do the math?”
“I didn’t realize how much stuff we’d be buying. We’ll do the math at the hotel when we’re going over everything. That’s close enough.”
While I lacked a good grasp of life outside of prison, I could understand why Dean would want to keep a close eye on his younger sister. In his shoes, I’d be wary about leaving her unsupervised.
Xena’s phone rang, and she dug for the device while I raided the paint supplies, grabbing a bulk set of colors and filling in the blanks for what I’d need, while also buying extra tubes of the colors I’d use more often.
“Hi, Dean. Did you get a vehicle? We’re going to need it. Layla is rampaging through the art store, and she’s currently buying ten tubes of white paint for some reason. No, wait. Even more. That’s a lot of white paint.”
To screw with her, I picked up a few extra tubes of white to add to the cart. I found large tubs of primer, which also went into the cart along with various types of clear coats.
“Huh. I think she can read when there is paint involved. She’s examining the labels and figuring it out without much difficulty, so maybe she has some preliminary reading skills.”
I picked up the primer and pointed at the word. “I do know this one. Actually, I know a lot of these words because we’d talk about them during my assignments, and I learned to associate them with the word. That counts as reading?”
“Close enough. Yes, Dean. That’s the store we’re at. We’re both going to need to be fed. Shopping is hard work. Also, she has clothes, but I don’t think we have enough suitcases and bags. I took care of the other mandatory items a woman needs to survive in the world. So, after we’re done in the art store, we should be set.”