Page 27 of Diesel

“You okay?” Ollie asked, fighting a smile.

“Just great. Love feeling like I’m sitting on a toothpick.”

“We can switch.”

“Yours is the same size.” I shifted my weight, and the stool creaked in protest. You better not fucking break.

Ollie’s laugh was quiet but sincere, and the sound made the hobbit stool worth it.

Behind us, the beaded curtain parted. A woman glided in like she was riding tiny drifting clouds under her hemp sandals. Shit you not. Lady looked like a bona fide summer child, only with a ton of wrinkles.

With every cloud-riding step, her green and purple tie-dyed skirt swirled around her ankles. I had nothing personal against lotus-eaters, but this one gave off a weird vibe. My wolf cocked its head, trying to figure out if the incense had drugged us.

Same, buddy. If that flower halo sittin’ on a bush of frizzy hair don’t start pulsing, we’re good.

If it did, it was already too late.

But it was that fake-as-fuck smile on her face that made me keep one eye on her at all times.

“Welcome, beautiful souls!” Her voice had a singsong quality that immediately set my teeth on edge. “I’m Miss Patty Willow Hummingbird, and I’ll be your guide on this creative journey tonight.”

Were we gonna paint or drop acid?

She drifted lazily to the front of the room and clasped her hands together at her chest. A green crystal rock swung forward from around her neck. I stiffened, telling myself we were not about to be put into a trance.

What the fuck had Ollie gotten us into? I cut my eyes toward him. The male appeared totally enraptured. If this became too weird, I was grabbing his skinny ass and getting us out of here.

My wolf was ready to lead the way.

“Before we begin, let’s go around and introduce ourselves. First names only. We’re all friends here in the sacred space of creation.” Her gaze swept across the room, landing on each of us in turn. “Let’s start with you, dear.”

She pointed at one of the middle-aged women, who introduced herself as Karen. Her friend was Susan. The couple in matching sweaters were Tom and Linda. Gerald practically vibrated with eagerness when his turn came, announcing his name like he expected applause.

Then it was Ollie’s turn.

“Ollie,” he said, giving a small wave and a wide grin.

He looked so kidnappable.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful soul,” Miss Patty said, her smile somehow widening further.

I glanced at the halo. It sat quiet on the bird’s nest.

“And you?”

I met her gaze dead-on. “Diesel.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly, and she tilted her head like a bird examining something shiny. “How... unique. Welcome, Diesel. I sense a lot of untapped creative energy in you.”

Maybe I’d let my wolf out to paint.

Miss Patty floated back to the front and clapped her hands twice. “Tonight, we’re painting a sunset over the ocean. I’ll guide you step by step, and remember, there are no mistakes in art, only happy accidents!”

Someone had been watching too much Bob Ross.

She gestured to a canvas already set up on her own easel, showing a completed version of what we were supposed to create. Oranges and pinks bled into purples, the colors reflected in water below. I didn’t have an artistic bone in my body, but I was willing to try for the blond who looked like he’d chugged a case of Red Bull. Ollie was bouncing on the balls of his feet, grin so wide a set of dimples were squeezed out.

“Let’s begin!” Miss Patty announced. “First, we’ll paint the sky. Take your largest brush and dip it into the orange paint. Don’t be shy. Really load it up.”