Page 30 of Diesel

“Exquisite, Gerald!” Miss Patty’s voice rang out. “The way you’ve layered those colors is simply divine.”

“Thank you, Miss Patty.” Gerald’s smugness had reached critical levels. The guy was practically vibrating with self-satisfaction.

This is for Ollie. Don’t ruin his fun.

“And, Ollie, darling, you continue to impress.” She stopped next to him, her hand going to that crystal again. “Such natural talent.”

“Thanks.” Ollie’s voice came out quieter this time, like he was starting to pick up on the pattern.

When Miss Patty reached my easel, her smile had gone completely brittle. “This is…” She paused, searching for words. “Quite abstract. Very…chaotic energy. Perhaps art isn’t your calling, dear.”

I turned to fully face her. “Perhaps I’m merely reflecting my inner self.”

Reaching into my cut again, I pulled out the flask and took a long pull. The whiskey slid down smooth and hot, and I met her eyes while I did it. Let her see exactly how much I cared about her fucking opinion.

“Perhaps you should focus more on the painting and less on the drinking,” she said, her smile tight. “This is a creative space, not a bar.”

“It’s called paint and sip.” I gestured at the flask with my free hand. “I’m sipping.”

“Wine is provided—”

“I don’t like wine.” Another sip, slower this time. “This works better for me.”

Her nostrils flared slightly, and her grip on the crystal tightened until I thought it would snap. “The beverages provided are part of the experience. Bringing outside alcohol disrupts the energy of the space.”

“My energy feels great.” I grinned at her, all teeth and zero warmth. “Really creative right now.”

Someone snorted from the back of the room.

Miss Patty’s smile stretched so wide it looked painful. “Perhaps you’d be more comfortable at a different establishment. One more suited to your…particular needs.”

“My particular need is sitting behind me.” I took another drink, maintaining eye contact. “I paid for the class. So I’m gonna sip and paint chaotic energy.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point? Because from where I’m sitting, the point seems to be that you’ve decided I don’t belong here, and you’re looking for any excuse to make that official.”

Color flooded her cheeks, creeping up toward her hairline. “I never said—”

“You didn’t have to.” I stood, the stool scraping against the floor. “Your attitude has been broadcasting your displeasure this entire time.”

“Diesel,” Ollie said, his voice urgent. “Ignore her. Come on, your painting is actually kind of cool. It’s got this psychedelic vibe to it.”

“That’s against the rules! Miss Patty, are you going to allow this?” Gerald’s voice cut through the room like a fire alarm.

Every head in the room swiveled toward Gerald then back to me. The tech startup guy had his phone out now, like he was considering whether this was worthy of documenting for social media.

“No one asked you, Gerald.” Ollie’s voice had an edge I’d never heard before, completely at odds with his usual warmth.

“I’m simply pointing out—”

“You’re being a tattletale.” Ollie set his brush down with enough force to make the easel rattle. “Mind your own business.”

“It’s everyone’s business when someone is breaking the rules.” Gerald adjusted his glasses, his expression radiating righteousness. “Miss Patty has every right to—”

“Miss Patty can speak for herself.” Ollie stood up, shoulders back. “And you can shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

“Are you threatening me?” Gerald’s voice went up an octave.