His Canvas, Page 3

  It would be nice not having to come back to the house to deal with her uncle after work. “Can I change at your place?”

  “Duh. You do not even have to ask.”

  “Your parents are so cool.” Mallory tried not to go there, not to envy her friend’s parents.

  It was hard not to.

  “Yeah, well, they have their moments, girlie.” Chelbie’s tone turned serious again. “Are you really okay? About what happened today?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t let those snarky little bitches get you down. Your boss is right. You’re beautiful.”

  Mallory caught sight of herself in the mirror over her dresser, her brassy red hair pulled back into a ponytail that hung down to the middle of her back.

  Right now, the last thing she felt was beautiful. “Yeah, well, you’re biased.”

  “Stop it,” Chelbie said. “I mean it. Don’t brush me off like that. I love you like a sister. You know that. I will never lie to you. I’m not exactly a twig myself.”

  “Yeah, but you don’t need to buy sizes with an X or W tacked onto the number, either.”

  Chelbie’s tone gentled. “Then let’s do something about it. Both of us. Let’s start walking once a week or something. We can go out to Siesta Key and walk the beach at sunset one evening a week. We’ve been talking about it. Won’t cost us a damn thing except the gas money to drive over there.”

  Mallory knew she needed to do something. She wasn’t happy with herself. It didn’t take a rocket scientists to put together the basics. She ate to comfort herself and feel better about her emotional situation. She hadn’t even needed the basic psych class she took a couple of years ago in school to tell her that.

  “Okay,” Mallory said. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. I’ll text you after I get off work and I’m heading your way.”

  “Deal.”

  Once Mallory got off the phone, she pulled herself to her feet and walked over in front of the mirror.

  Mirror, mirror, on the wall. Who’s the fattest of them all?

  Okay, so that wasn’t fair, either. She knew plenty of people, some of them friends, who made her look skinny by comparison.

  I don’t like myself. It’s not just my body I’m sick of.

  She turned off her cell phone and set it on the dresser after plugging it into the charger.

  It’d be easy for her to blame everything that went wrong in her life on the death of her parents. She also knew if she kept doing that, nothing would change.

  I’ll never change.

  She forced herself to stare into the mirror again.

  One evening a week. Baby steps.

  If she could do that, and keep doing it, she knew she could make it a habit. It was how she’d managed to force herself to study in high school, and now in college, when all she’d wanted to do was drown her sorrows in Publix glazed donuts and mindless TV.

  Maybe I should talk to Chelbie’s parents.

  Shelving that decision for now, she started getting her things ready to go take a shower.

  Chapter Four

  Mallory didn’t bother making a pot of coffee Saturday morning as she prepared to leave for the store. She’d hoped to make her escape before her uncle arose, but no such luck. She sensed his presence in the kitchen doorway without even needing to turn around.

  “What are you doing?” he finally asked.

  “Getting ready to go to work.”

  “You don’t work today.” He walked over to the calendar hanging on the fridge. “You have it marked off here.”

  Of course he’d look at the damn thing when it suited him. “My boss fired two people yesterday and asked me to work today to fill in.”

  “I want to talk about your grad school appli—”

  She whirled around. “Stop it! Just stop it. For the last damn time, I am not applying to grad school. I’m getting my four-year degree, and then I’m getting a job. Unlike some people in this house, I’m not content to spend my life sitting in a university office pushing papers around.”

  “You could make so much more money with a—”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she yelled. “Why are you refusing to take ‘no’ for an answer? And after all, let’s face it, the money I’ll save not going for an advanced degree is money I can use to move out and get my own place. I’d think you’d be happy about that as much as you harp on me all the time about every damn thing I do wrong around here that’s not up to your standards.”

  One of the few good things she could say about her uncle was that he wasn’t a slob. And he did pull his weight around the house with cleaning and other chores. She’d had housekeeping drilled into her head within the first few months she lived with her aunt and uncle.

  It was one of the reasons she now refused to make her bed every morning. One small rebellion that gave her a little satisfaction.

  “After all I’ve done for you through the years, young lady, you could show a little gratitude and respect.”

  “Okay, for starters, the respect you lost a long time ago when you and Aunt Susan divorced.” There, she’d said it, and it felt damn good to get it off her chest. “Secondly, yes, I do appreciate that you guys took me in and raised me. I do. Thank you. It’s also why I’m doing my damnedest to stand on my own two feet and be independent. Why you’re fighting me so hard on this is beyond me.”

  “You are just like your father,” he spat. “Ungrateful, spoiled brat.”

  “Spoiled? Seriously? I’ve felt like a stranger in what was supposed to be my home, too, ever since I’ve been living with you. When we moved here after the divorce, I thought okay, maybe with that behind us things will change for the better. Nope, you’ve gotten worse. Like you’re the caretaker here and I’m an inconvenience.”

  She stormed out of the kitchen. She’d planned to grab a light, healthy breakfast, some fruit and yogurt from the fridge, but now all she wanted to do was leave. Fortunately, she’d already packed her stuff she’d need for going out to dinner and the club with Chelbie. She grabbed the duffle bag, her purse, and her laptop case off her bed and turned to leave, just to find her uncle standing in the bedroom doorway and blocking her way.

  “Move.”

  “We are going to discuss this, and you are not leaving this house until you agree to apply to graduate school.”

  There was something…odd about his tone. Borderline desperate, if she was forced to apply a label to it.

  It creeped her out.

  “I’m twenty-two years old,” she said. “Almost twenty-three. I think I’m capable of figuring things out for myself from this point on.” She wanted to walk toward the doorway, but he had about six inches on her in height and she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to simply power her way past him.

  “You don’t know anything about the world. You’re just a kid. You need a graduate degree to get ahead in the world.”

  “No, I need you to get out of my way to get ahead in the world.” Time to drop the bomb. “I’ve already put out applications for internships this summer. And if I’m offered one, I’m taking it because it’ll be a foot in the door. I’m already earning money here and there doing freelance design work, in addition to my job. I’m confident in my skills and my four-year degree.”

  His jaw tightened, muscles working like he was trying to figure out what to say, or maybe he had something to say and couldn’t force it out.

  Maybe it’s early-onset Alzheimer’s. There was a history of it in his family. On both parents’ sides.

  Lucky me.

  She didn’t even want to think about that right now. That she might feel morally obligated for his care because he’d taken her in when she’d been orphaned.

  She didn’t blink, meeting his gaze and holding it. She sensed if she backed down at this instant that he would relentlessly hound her about grad school until she finally moved out.

  And despite his shortcomings as a person, he was her family.

  Her only family.


  Part of her couldn’t bring herself to forever sever that last connection yet, no matter how flimsy and tenuous it was. To do that meant she was truly alone in the world.

  While he might have been a crummy emotional safety net for as long as he’d been in her life, he had kept a roof over her head, food in the fridge, made sure she got to the doctor, and helped ensure she got into the college she’d wanted to attend.

  He blinked first, stepping back. She swept past him, adrenaline shakes hitting her as she pulled the bedroom door shut and made a beeline for the front door.

  She was aware of him following her.

  “We’ll discuss this when you get home from work,” he said.

  “I won’t be home until very late, if at all. I’m likely going to spend the night with Chelbie at her house. We’re going out with friends tonight. In fact, don’t expect me home before late Sunday night.”

  She slammed the front door behind her on whatever protests he might be offering up about that plan. Not looking back, she raced to her car, tossed her stuff into the passenger seat, and pulled out of the driveway without looking back. Tears rolled down her face as she cried. She tried to blink them away but now that the dam had cracked, the flood wanted to burst free.

  And, she belatedly realized, she’d pulled out of the driveway without buckling her seat belt. She realized that when she spotted flashing red and blue lights in her rearview mirror a few minutes later, just seconds after she’d figured out the annoying dinging sound she kept hearing was her car pestering her to buckle up.

  Dammit.

  The deputy who walked up was an older man. “Ma’am, do you know why I pulled you over?”

  She burst into tears. “Because I had a fight with my stupid uncle and forgot to put my seat belt on.” At that point, she was beyond caring if he thought she was trying to get out of the ticket or not. She laid her head on the steering wheel and cried, knowing a ticket would blow through whatever she had in the bank and be one more thing her uncle could lord over her head.

  “Ma’am, please calm down. I need to see your license, registration, and proof of insurance.”

  She dug through her purse to find her wallet and tried to hand it over, but he said, “Ma’am, just the license, not your whole wallet.”

  Her vision blurred through her tears as she fumbled through it and finally pulled it out. She’d never gotten a ticket. Not a speeding ticket, not even a parking ticket. She’d never been pulled over before. Ever.

  Rummaging through the glove box, she finally found the envelope with the registration and insurance paperwork and handed it over, too.

  “Wait right here for me, ma’am.”

  She nodded, grabbing a handful of napkins shoved in the center console between the seats and trying to clean herself up. At least she hadn’t put makeup on yet.

  Raccoon eyes. Just what I’d need on top of everything else.

  When he returned a few minutes later, her heart sank when she spotted the clipboard in his hand.

  “You have a clean record, so I’m going to do you a favor and give you a warning citation,” he said.

  “Thank you!” She burst into a fresh round of tears, barely hearing what he said as she signed the warning with trembling hands.

  And then she put her seat belt on.

  He returned her license and paperwork and she jammed them into her purse, not even bothering to try to return them to their proper locations.

  “Ma’am, are you all right?”

  She shook her head. “I’ve got an asshole for an uncle who insists for some damn crazy reason that I have to go to grad school when all I want to do is graduate from Ringling and go to work.”

  She couldn’t read the expression on his face.

  “I’m sorry,” she quickly added. “It’s…complicated.”

  “Are you being abused?” he asked. “I can get you some information on resources to help you out.”

  A gurgling snort escaped her. “No. I wish. Then I’d get the hell out without a look back.”

  She didn’t know what was worse, having to admit all that to the deputy, or the expression of pity that he wore when she did.

  He tore the citation off the pad on his clipboard and handed it through her window. “From now on, make sure you put your seat belt on. And you might want to see if Ringling has any counselors on campus who you can talk to about your home issues. Try to have a good day.”

  She stared at the slip of paper, her gaze settling on the side view mirror and the deputy’s back as he returned to his cruiser.

  That’s actually a damn good idea.

  She’d never really thought about it before. She’d been so used to doing things on her own over the years that seeking assistance from the school had never crossed her mind.

  She shoved the citation into her purse with her license and paperwork, double-checked her seat belt was securely fastened, and then pulled back into traffic when it was safe.

  Maybe I can develop sudden appendicitis or something. Or trip and fall and break my neck at work. That would make this day absolutely friggin’ perfect.

  Chapter Five

  Mallory got to work and immediately headed to the bathroom to wash her face and put her makeup on. When she emerged, Karen was waiting for her.

  “Are you all right?” Karen asked.

  The concern on the older woman’s face nearly started her crying again, but, somehow, Mallory held it together. “Just a bad morning. Fight with my uncle. Then I got pulled over and issued a warning because I forgot to put on my seat belt.”

  “How’d you forget to put on your seat belt?”

  “Because I had a fight with my uncle.”

  “Ah. Sorry.” She tipped her head toward the office. “You blew in so fast you didn’t give me time to tell you I brought caramel lattes for us.”

  Mallory hugged her. “Thank you! You are the best.”

  Karen led the way back to her office. “Well, I’m a firm believer in treating people well and rewarding them.” She turned to glance at Mallory. “And considering I feel horrible those little bitches were treating you like that, it’s the least I can do.”

  Mallory’s face heated. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” In her office, she rounded her desk and reached for the cardboard carrier holding two cups. She placed it on the desk in front of Mallory before taking one of them herself.

  Mallory took the other. “I didn’t want to make waves.” She shrugged. “I’m used to being picked on because I’m fat.”

  “You’re not fat.”

  Mallory tipped her head to the side. “No offense, but you need glasses. Seriously.”

  “Okay, so you’re a few pounds overweight. Who isn’t?”

  Mallory sipped her latte. It was delicious. “I know I need to lose weight. I also know, yeah, I could be a lot bigger than I am. I’ve been holding steady at this weight for about six months. I’ve been trying little things, like parking farther out at school and here, things like that. I just haven’t had time to try to figure out an exercise routine.”

  “If you need any help, or want any guidance, let me know. My sister is a doctor. I’m sure she’d slide you in for a consultation. And I have a family membership to the Y. I can always add you on, if you’d like. I know your funds might be tight right now.”

  Mallory struggled—and finally won—the battle against her tears. How could her day have two diametrically opposed sets of emotions when she’d been awake for less than two hours?

  “I really appreciate it. Right now, I just need to get through the next few weeks.” She took a deep breath. “I think I need to look at moving out on my own.”

  “Good for you. I know you haven’t been happy there with your uncle.”

  “Yeah. The problem is, I need to save up for it. I don’t know how much money there is in my trust, beyond school funds and stuff. Or if there even is any and he’s been paying for it out of his own pocket.” Which would make her feel guilty
as hell in some ways for how she’d reacted to him, but didn’t change the fact that her uncle was still an asshole.

  “We can always talk about putting you on full-time here.”

  Mallory thought about those internship applications floating around in the ether. She didn’t want to pin her hopes on any of them and not have them come through. Meanwhile, she needed solid income she could count on.

  “Thanks. I’m hoping my uncle calms down by tomorrow and I can sit down with him and discuss things without him blowing up.”

  “Would you like me to be there with you when you talk to him? Provide a buffer?”

  “Actually, that might not be a bad idea. I’ll let you know.” Mallory took another sip of the comforting latte. “He’s just really crazy on this idea about me going to grad school, even though I keep telling him no. I don’t get it. I don’t have a scholarship for it and doubt I could get one, so the money’s either coming from his own pocket or anything left in the trust. You’d think he’d be happy I’m saving him all that and want to earn a living after I graduate.”

  “Maybe he’s just worried about your future. Not that I know him,” Karen quickly added, “but maybe that’s his dysfunctional way of trying to show you he cares.”

  Mallory considered that. Saul and Susan never had kids of their own. Mallory never got the full story of why, either. She took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Maybe you have a point,” Mallory conceded. “I keep thinking he’s acting like a jerk. Maybe he’s got a reason for it.”

  “Or a reason he thinks is valid. Again, I’m not trying to dismiss your—”

  “No, I get it. I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Mallory hated conflict. Despised it. “Once we both cool down, I’ll try talking to him about it again and see if I can’t get him to tell me why he’s so hyper about me going to grad school.”

  “That sounds like a very sensible plan.”

  * * * *

  When Kel walked over Venture a little before one Saturday afternoon, he wasn’t surprised to find Tony, Shayla, Seth, and Leah already there. Even if they hadn’t been there, Kel had a key of his own.