“Who told you that?”
“Nikki.”
“And she is…?”
“My cousin. She’s one of the Vixens. She used to sleep with Eros.”
“Jesus, you guys really are an incestuous bunch, you know that? Is everyone here related?”
She shrugs, unaffected. “We’re all connected in some way, I guess. It’s like a big dysfunctional family.”
“I’m getting that,” I mutter.
“So?” she prompts, bouncing on her toes like a Chihuahua on crack.
“Settle down. You’re giving me a headache.” Or maybe it’s the lack of food and sleep. Either way, an energetic, prying Jada is not how I want to start my morning.
“Sorry,” she says, plopping down on one of the stools behind the booth. “So, what’s up with you and Sebastian? Are you, like, dating? I hear Selina is pissed.”
“Nothing’s up with us,” I tell her, grabbing the jar of brushes from the shelf under the booth. Dirty, per usual. Jada never rinses them once she’s done. Her face falls, disappointed.
“Give me something,” she pleads, hands folded under her chin. “Sebastian hasn’t shown interest in…” she trails off, mentally calculating. “Well, anyone. Ever.”
My stomach flips at her words. She’s blowing it out of proportion, I know this, but it still feels good to hear that even other people are picking up on this thing between us. Lets me know that it’s not all in my head. “If I tell you one thing, will you leave me alone about it?”
“Yes,” she barks before the words have even left my mouth, causing me to jump.
“Jesus.” I laugh. I rack my brain for something to tell her. Something that will satisfy her without divulging too much. Once I’ve got it, I lean forward, not wanting anyone else to overhear. “He’s a really good kisser,” I whisper conspiratorially.
“Shut up!” she yells. I shush her, covering her mouth with my palm. “Shut up,” she repeats, this time it’s more of a whisper-yell. “You can’t just tell me that and expect me not to ask questions.”
“We had a deal,” I remind her.
“Fine.” She pouts. “For the record, I knew you were lying.”
I spend the rest of the afternoon painting fairies and dragons and fielding questions from Jada. Once she calmed down, talking to her was actually kind of…nice. She’s cool in that annoying little sister way.
I didn’t end up getting lunch, and by the time my shift is almost over, I’m starving. When I’m finishing up my last customer, a sassy four-year-old named Rosie who insisted on a rainbow, a ballerina, and a unicorn all on one tiny cheek, Lathan shows up, tossing a brown paper bag onto my lap.
“Um. Hi?” I say, keeping my eyes trained on the toddler in my chair.
“Brought you lunch.”
“Is it poisoned?” I ask, raising a brow. Why the hell would Lathan bring me lunch?
“What happened to your eye?” Rosie’s soft voice chimes in, pulling his shirt until he bends down to her level. Sure enough, he’s sporting a big black eye.
“Rosie,” her mom says, embarrassed, but Lathan waves her off. Rosie cups both of his cheeks, turning his head this way and that, inspecting the black ring around his eye.
“Got in a fight with a pirate last night,” Lathan offers.
“Did you win?” she asks, letting go of his face. I finish the purple part of the rainbow, but she’s watching Lathan intently.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
She nods, apparently satisfied with his answer.
“All done,” I say, holding the mirror up for her to see. “What do you think?”