Draw Me In (2 page)

Alarm flooded Dr. Fields’s features, and he perched on the edge of his desk in front of me. “Of course you can, Hailey. Is it your parents’ relationship again? Whatever is bothering you, I can help.”

In the presence of my adviser, someone I trusted, the panic began to recede. It was probably the fact that he was a doctor, used to listening to people talking about their problems. After all, he’d listened to plenty of mine in the last year and a half. He’d been so supportive, so kind to me, that it was a relief to dump all my problems out in front of him. Oxygen seemed to flow more freely as I told him about the spring break awfulness, then my dad’s announcement.

“But it’s not really that they’re divorcing,” I choked out. Dr. Fields handed me a tissue, and I mopped my cheeks with it. “It’s that they expect me to come home now. Right when I’m halfway through school. Dad said there’s no money left, and they can’t afford tuition.”

Dr. Fields stood and laid his hand on my shoulder, a comforting weight as I cried. When I looked up at him, his face was drawn, sad.

“You can’t leave Leesville, Hailey. You’re much too smart, too talented.”

“Thanks, Dr. Fields.” I stared at the patterned green carpet, glancing up only when Dr. Fields began to speak again.

“Your parents should be ashamed of themselves. Throwing this information at you by phone call? Not reassuring you about the situation? And as for halting your education, that is criminal!” Dr. Fields paced in the small gap between my chair and the desk. “Well, it’s clear what needs to happen now. You should go to financial aid and explain your problem. Perhaps there are other scholarships or even loans that could help.” He shook his head. “The absolute waste of it. Don’t worry, Hailey. You’ll find a way to stay here, and I’ll be happy to help you in any way I can.”

I nodded. “Financial aid. That’s a good idea.”

Silence fell in the small office. Maybe it had been dumb to assume Dr. Fields would have some magic answer. But where else could I go? I’d never faced anything this awful, and my parents weren’t exactly available for advice. Not that I wanted to talk to either of them right now. Dad was a cheating asshole, and Mom hadn’t even bothered to let me know she was leaving.

“Thanks, Dr. Fields. I don’t think I could really focus on calculus this afternoon. I’ll head over to the administration building now.” I grabbed my bag and moved toward the door.

His hand on my arm stopped me. Biting my lip, I turned to face him.

“Don’t worry, Hailey. Everything is going to be fine. I’ll make sure of it.” Though his words were sincere, his tone was heavy, almost sad. It was like he understood how I was feeling—like he felt it, too.

“Thanks.” I backed toward the door, pulling it open as I said, “Bye.”

With a determined stride, I headed for the administration building. Dr. Fields was right. I had to find a way to stay in school. Leesville was mine, and I’d never agree to leave it for the war zone I used to call home.

The financial aid office wasn’t much help. I left with an armload of paperwork on grants and other financial aid, none of which guaranteed me anything. Many of the deadlines for the semester had already passed. As I walked through the sunny quad toward my dorm, my brain tumbled with numbers. With tuition, and rooming on campus, and textbooks? I’d need a couple thousand dollars a month to cover everything. Glancing down at the stack of papers in my arms, I groaned. I’d apply for all this stuff, but it would take time. I’d need somewhere to live. And money to buy food. The rest of this semester was taken care of, but the summer sessions I’d been hoping for would be out of reach unless I did something fast. And I’d rather die than go back home.

“Hailey! We’re over here!” Walt, a music major who was entirely too blasé for his own good, waved from his position on a blanket spread in the center of the green lawn, his brown skin shiny from some kind of tanning oil. He was shirtless. Crossed-legged beside him, Rose, a black-haired fellow art major, looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. Despite her embarrassment at Walt’s antics, Rose was usually hanging out with him. Walt made puppy-dog eyes at her regularly to make up for it. It was definitely an “opposites attract” scenario.

“Sorry, guys, but I’ve got something to take care of,” I called, lifting the stack of papers so they could see. “I’ll catch you in the dining hall later, okay?”

Walt pouted, Rose nodded, and I mounted the steps to Phillips, my dorm, with a leaden heart. Dammit, I was supposed to be carefree, out there having fun with my friends. Instead I had a bunch of standardized forms to fill out.

Back in my dorm room, I dumped the papers onto my desk, watching as they settled into a messy, scattered pile. My roommate, Jackie, was stoned, as usual, snoring upside down in her twin bed by the window, her dark blond dreads trailing along the wooden floor. Her bare feet were tangled in the wide blinds, looking almost like she’d been snared in them for a while before falling unconscious. I shook my head. I wasn’t into weed, but I did envy the carefree nap. I’d give a lot for an hour of oblivion.

I crossed the creaking wooden floor as quietly as I could, but my knock on my suitemates’ door went unanswered. Lily must be out, and Courtney was probably at her boyfriend’s again. Like it or not, I was on my own, unless I wanted to leave the dorm. And that wasn’t appealing at the moment. My room was safe, insulated, in a way that the rest of campus wasn’t.

With Jackie’s snores as background noise, I settled onto my narrow twin bed with my laptop. Tucking my feet into the purple throw blanket I kept folded at the bottom of my polka-dotted comforter, I booted up the computer. The screen lit, surrounding me with a soft electronic glow.

I’d been lucky. My parents’ marriage could have blown up years ago. Tears brimmed in my eyes as the awful memories played in my mind, the yelling, the way each had used me against the other, the constant feeling of tension surrounding me. I’d hidden for so long at home that coming here had felt like freedom. It was just too bad that Dad thought I would drop everything to come home and try to put my parents’ lives back together. No way, not happening. I was going to stay in school, no matter what it took. I could do this. I had to.

“Part-time jobs in Leesville,” I said aloud as I typed the words into the search box. I could do anything, right? Maybe I’d get lucky and find a job that would grow with me. One I could stick with the next two years while I finished college, one that would propel me into a career in art or graphic design, something like that.

I nodded determinedly. Once I found that career? I’d move halfway across the country. And it wouldn’t be a day too soon.

Neill

I hummed to myself as the dubstep tune cranked through my iPod dock. With another spritz of cleaner, I wiped down the tattoo chair. Giving it one last swipe, I tossed the paper towels and snapped off my gloves. Though the pungent scent of germicide burned my nostrils, I nodded, satisfied. This was my chair, my studio, my shop now. It hadn’t been an easy road, but for the moment, it felt like I might be able to climb out of the financial and emotional grave Gretchen had dug for me. I slapped the arm of the chair, hoping the feeling would last.

“So how was your first day, boss?” Tasha poked her head through the crack in the shiny black door. The beads at the ends of her braids clacked against one another, a soft, familiar sound.

I stretched toward the ceiling as I answered, my back cracking. “Good. Not much different than any other day at Sinful Skin. Still seems weird that I’m not just another artist anymore.”

Tasha entered the small room that was my personal studio, plopping down on the rolling stool. She stretched out her lean brown legs, crossing them at the ankles. “Well, now that you’re part owner, I guess I can deliver this news to you.”

I crossed my heavily tattooed arms over my chest and arched a brow at the receptionist. “What news?”

Tasha cracked a nervous smile, flashing brilliant white teeth against her silver labret. “I’m pregnant.”

I staggered backward dramatically, a hand over my heart. “But Tasha, how could you? I thought what we had was special!”

She laughed, tossing her braids over her shoulder. “Yeah, but I found another guy, and he knocked me up. You probably know him. Six-five, hands that could palm a watermelon? I’ve been married to him for six years.”

I dropped the act and pulled Tasha to her feet. “I’m happy for you guys. Really.” I hugged her lightly, rubbing her shoulders, trying like hell to be smooth. I didn’t want to break her, after all. And how the hell would Sinful Skin run without her? She was like the brain of the place.

“Thanks.” She pulled back, dashing teardrops away. “I don’t want to leave you guys, but Travis and I are moving closer to his parents.”

I handed her a tissue from the box I kept strategically close to the tattoo chair. It came in handy for the less pain-tolerant clients. “Don’t they live in Greenville? It’s not that far.”

“They live in Greenville,
South Carolina
. About six hundred miles, approximately.” Tasha blew her nose delicately and dropped the tissue in the orange biohazard-labeled can.

“Oh. Shit.” I looked down at the toes of my black leather boots, which almost blended in with the dark tile flooring. Dammit, why did Karl have to be out of town right now? My first official act as half-owner of the shop would be finding a replacement for the best receptionist and assistant we’d ever had. Tasha had been there five years, a year longer than I had. I’d worked my way up from apprentice to part owner, and I wasn’t about to fuck things up now. She would be tough to replace, that was for damn sure.

I squared my shoulders and met Tasha’s gaze. “We’re going to miss you. How long before you go?”

Tasha sighed. “A week. I know it’s fast, but we didn’t even have the house on the market yet. One of Travis’s buddies wants it now, so we’re going to go for it. It’s just a matter of the closing, and then we’ll be out of here.” Her brown eyes welled with tears again. “It’s probably all these god-awful hormones, but I’m going to miss you jerks.”

I gathered Tasha into my arms for another friendly hug, and she settled close. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll make it. But I expect pictures of the little one.”

“Of course.” Her voice sounded muffled against my chest, and when she angled her head to look at me, fresh tears appeared in her eyes. “Neill, honey, are you sure you’re okay? I know it’s been a while, but I still worry about you.”

I set my jaw and rubbed her back without answering.

“What happened with Gretchen wasn’t your fault,” Tasha whispered. “You’re a good man, and you deserve to be happy.”

I didn’t know that I believed her, but I wasn’t about to say that out loud.

“Thanks, Tasha.” With another gentle squeeze, I let her go.

The door clicked shut behind Tasha, and I sank onto the rolling stool by my tattoo chair. Dammit, Tasha had been the best. Great with clients, good with temperamental artists, hell, even with me. She was like the sister I’d never had. She’d stuck with me when I’d gone out of my mind with worry, with pain, frightened out of my brain about whether Gretchen . . .

Nope, not going there again. That shit was over.

Rolling the stool halfway across the room to the small desk in the corner, I tapped my MacBook’s trackpad to wake it from slumber. Karl wouldn’t be back from his guest-artist spot in New Orleans for three weeks, maybe more. We couldn’t make it that long without a receptionist and assistant. It would be best if the new receptionist could have a couple of days to train before Tasha left. As much as I hated to do it, I didn’t have a choice.

With nervousness tensing my shoulders, I started crafting a “Help Wanted” ad.

Chapter Two

Hailey

I slogged down a street in Leesville’s quaint downtown district, bag slipping from my shoulder, sweater trailing along behind me with one sleeve tied to the bag’s strap. I squinted up at the midday sun. Early April wasn’t supposed to be ninety degrees, was it? Heat radiated from the sidewalk, and my only dressy shirt was spotted with sweat.

This.
Sucked
. I slumped against the side of Main Street Pharmacy, grateful for the small patch of shade beneath the awning.

Thirteen places I’d tried in the past two days. Thirteen no-thank-yous. And thirteen was the total number of options I’d found in my Internet job search. Lily had helped, but even with my suitemate’s assistance, we’d only come up with a baker’s dozen possibilities.

“Gotta keep moving,” I said to myself as the door to the pharmacy opened, letting a cool blast of air pass my arm. I ducked into the pharmacy, and five hopeful minutes plus one disappointed one later, I left and continued on my way.

Another no,
I thought with a sigh. Dropping onto the bench outside a pizza parlor, I let my bag fall to the sidewalk at my feet. The crumpled list of job ideas fell out of the back pocket as the bag hit the ground. I wanted to leave it there but grabbed it anyway. Smoothing the wrinkled paper over my nicest jeans, I went over them again.

“Nope. Nope. Nope. Hell no, and no.” Cashier. Greeter. Administrative assistant. Technician. Office staff. I apparently wasn’t qualified for anything. I had taken the bus from Leesville College to the closest location, which happened to be an insurance agency, and walked to all the rest. I had done my best to be charming, friendly, and open. But what had it gotten me? A couple new blisters and a dismal view of what life would be like from here on out.

A toddler gurgled at me from his position in a stroller as he and his dad rolled by. I tried to smile at the towheaded kid, but that expression was beyond me at the moment. The young one smiled and dropped a handful of Cheerios on the pavement. A pigeon flew from the top of a streetlight and landed in front of me, pecking at the Cheerios as if they were the bird’s last meal. I frowned.
I
might be that desperate, that grabby, if I couldn’t find a way to make this work.

“Dammit, no.” My fist thumped against the bench. “I’m not going out like this.”

Grabbing my bag, I marched into the pizza place. I would walk into every damn store on this street, and the next, and the next, until someone offered me a job. My dreams were worth working for. My family might be wrecked, but my education wouldn’t be.