Freaks in the City (25 page)

“If I was human, I’d be really pissed at you
right now.”

“Why?”

“Think about it,” she said, and pivoted on
her heel and exited the bedroom, leaving him to his breakfast.

Tyler inhaled some more coffee. And when the
caffeine kick-started his brain he finally got it. “Ah crap.” Cue
mental slap upside the head. He’d all but accused her outright of
playing around behind his back.

He trusted Jay—of course he did! But didn’t
mean he trusted other guys around
her
. Because let’s face
it, she was hot. And guys were, well, guys. Pete and Chandler had
jumped all over her like enthusiastic puppies the first time she’d
visited his apartment. It’d been entertaining as hell watching
their efforts to attract her attention. Not to mention her
matter-of-fact observations about their ridiculous behavior. Way to
cut a guy down to size.

But some unknown guy? Some smooth-as dude
he’d never met, hitting on his girl? Wheedling his oh-so-helpful
way into her affections? Not so much. Not. Amusing. At. All.

He brooded as he bolted the bacon and eggs
Jay had cooked for him, had the quickest shower in history, and
shoved himself into some clothes. When he stomped downstairs he
sought Jay out, and found her in the study, curled in the armchair,
reading.

“I’ve got a free period straight after
lunch,” he said. “Wanna meet up and go eat somewhere nice?”

The regret on her face told him it was a
no-go before she even spoke. “I’m sorry, I can’t. After Nessa
checks out the apartment she’s heading off to work, and I promised
Allen I’d look at his computer. It’s the least I can do after all
the trouble he’s gone to.”

“Oh. Okay. So where is this place?”

“38 Tree Lane.”

“And when are you viewing it?”

“Thirteen hundred hours.”

Tyler mentally translated. “One
o’clock.”

“That’s right. Why?”

“Thought I might check it out with you and
Nessa—you know, make sure everything’s kosher.”

Jay smiled. “It’s sweet of you to offer but
I think Nessa and I can handle this.”

Tyler’s answering laugh was half wry, half
regretful. Checking out an apartment to rent would be easy as
compared with the logistics of buying a house, and Jay had already
done just that on more than one occasion. She sure didn’t need him
peering over her shoulder. “Okay, so I know
you
can handle
anything anyone throws at you. But I kinda worry about Nessa. What
if this guy renting the apartment is a sleaze?”

Jay fixed him with an expression he couldn’t
fathom. Sheesh. She was throwing a few of those at him lately.

“You don’t think I can handle one sleazy
guy?”

“Oh, I know you can handle one sleazy guy,”
Tyler said, visualizing her encounter with Shawn. Ah, such magic
memories. Good times. “But Nessa? Not so much. Knowing her, she’ll
do something daft and we’ll have to bail her out of trouble again.
That girl needs a keeper.”

“Or a decent boyfriend who’ll look after
her,” Jay said.

“Yeah. That’d work.”

“I’m sure she’s a lot more capable that you
give her credit for.”

“Maybe.”

Jay stared at him, her face still
unreadable.

“So, am I forgiven for being such a dick
earlier?”

“Of course,” she said.

Had that answer been a little too fast to be
entirely genuine? Crap. Time to shut up and hit the road before he
put his foot in it again.“Catch you tonight then.”

She blew him a kiss and went back to her
book. And Tyler left to catch his bus, feeling strangely unsettled,
with a slow burn in his gut that made him want to chew antacids. Or
hit something. Maybe even someone. Whose name began with A.

He hadn’t been jealous when Nessa had dumped
him for Matt. Humiliated, sure. Majorly pissed off, absolutely. But
not jealous. And if this was what jealousy felt like it blew
chunks.

Damn, he wanted to meet this Allen guy and
eyeball him—see if he could figure out why Jay had taken to him so
quickly. He’d have to find some way to get Jay to introduce him to
her new “friend”.

~~~

Tyler caught a break when another student,
desperate for extra shifts, begged to work Tyler’s scheduled
weekend. He could have refused—God knows he needed all the money he
could get—but he wanted to spend the weekend with Jay. She’d been
distant and he’d been unavailable. Sooo not good. And he was pretty
damn sure she was keeping something from him.

He gave the other guy his shifts without a
murmur. And after finishing up his Friday night shift, and racing
home to have some face-time with Jay, he crawled into bed sometime
around one and slept like the dead.

When he woke it was pushing midday and he
was starving. First port of call was the kitchen to rustle up some
food. Or wheedle Jay or Nessa into rustling up some food while he
made coffee.

The kitchen was empty. And now he came to
think about it, the whole house was unnaturally quiet. He padded
over to check the whiteboard, expecting to see a note about the
girls heading to the corner store for milk or something. Instead,
he found a note telling him Jay was helping Nessa move in, and not
to expect her back until four.

He jogged back upstairs to grab his cell
phone and text her.
finally up. miss u! meet u 4 coffee at
4?

Her answer came back almost immediately. The
girl could text like nobody’s business.
Ok. Meet me at
Beanz
.

Beanz???

Café. 15 Honeysuckle Street. I’ll be out
back with Allen but text me if you get there early & I’ll come
straight round.

Tyler ground his jaw. He considered all the
things he could say and discounted them. Better not to let on how
pissed he was.
thought u were helping Nessa move in?

I am. I’m meeting Allen at 2.

ok. c u then.
He tossed the phone on
the bedside cabinet and stomped downstairs to grab a bowl of cereal
and a really strong cup of coffee.

Because he was still pissed, he left the
dishes in the sink. Petty, he knew but he didn’t give a crap.

He took his petty, jealous, bad tempered
self up to his studio and spent the next hour composing angry music
that did nothing for his state of mind.

What a bunch of shit. These lyrics sucked.
He crumpled the sheet and tossed it at the trash bin Jay had
thoughtfully provided. He thought about doing something for his art
portfolio, but he wasn’t in the right mood for that, either. He
headed for the shower.

By the time he’d thrown on some clothes he
had a plan of action. It might not be the best plan in the world,
but it beat the hell out of hanging out at home watching the clock
and imagining scenarios he’d rather not imagine.

He used the app on his cell phone to find
the quickest way to Honeysuckle Street. Then he set the house
alarm, locked up, and stalked off down the street.

The walk did him good. Cleared his head.
Instead of going off half-cocked and confronting this Allen dude
with unsubstantiated facts, he’d station himself across the road
and watch out for Jay. Then he’d follow her, see for himself what
was going on.

He bought a takeaway coffee and a snack at
Beanz, and by one thirty he was in position, sitting with his back
against the trunk of a large tree on the opposite side of the
street, a few houses down from the café. He could see the front of
the café quite clearly, and with any luck Jay wouldn’t notice
him—especially if she wasn’t on the lookout for him.

At ten to two, he spotted her jogging down
the street. At a guess, she’d been held up at Nessa’s and had been
forced to hoof it. He let out the breath he’d been holding. Good.
Less chance she’d accidentally glance his way.

She headed down a path to the left of the
café building and the instant she vanished from view, Tyler
sprinted across the road. Just before he reached the café he slowed
to a walk, and when he reached the path Jay had taken, he casually
sauntered after her as though he had every right to be there.

He heard voices behind him and raced past
the doors, around the corner, and out of sight. His heart pounded
in his chest. He risked a glance and spotted three men approaching
the doors before he ducked back out of sight. One of the men rapped
on the door. Someone inside the house—a male from his voice—opened
the door and greeted them.

Tyler waited a minute, and was glad he did
because another two men wandered up and entered the house. And then
one man on his own. Followed by another two.

What the hell was going on?

He gave it five minutes and when no one else
arrived, he snuck back around and headed for the windows… which of
course had blinds. Shit. But as he got close, he realized they were
angled so there was a convenient gap he could spy through. He
peeked inside and jerked back.

Some sort of a studio, by the looks of
it.

He peered in again and got the shock of his
life when Jay emerged from behind a screen. He slammed himself
backward so hard he smacked his spine on the weatherboards and
scraped off a layer of skin.

Oh. My. Fricking. God. She was stark naked.
What the—?

He snatched another look, and this time
registered the easels, and it all made sense. She was life-modeling
for an art class.

He sagged against the side of the house,
shaky with relief. Why the hell hadn’t she let on?

When he’d got his shit together, he sneaked
another look. Hey, he was only human. And there was a hot naked
chick in there—
his
hot naked chick.

The tutor—a scruffy looking guy with a
hairdo that would’ve made Einstein proud and a beard to match—was
yakking to the class and making sweeping gestures with his hands.
And Jay? She was perched on a stool.

As Tyler watched, spellbound, she reached up
to pull the elastic band from her ponytail and shake out her hair.
Then she twisted it into a loose knot at the back of her head.

A hot sensation needled his skin. The
graceful lines of her neck and spine made him want to reach out and
stroke them. She looked serene, beautiful. Damned if he didn’t want
to sketch her himself—after he’d kissed her senseless and done…
other things he’d only dreamed of doing with her.

The tutor strode up to adjust the position
of Jay’s arms and hands, and then backed off and picked up a
sketchbook.

She was naked, in front of all those
men….

It was doing his head in. He pulled back and
leaned against the weatherboards, squeezing his eyes shut and
counting each breath until he got himself back under control. Then
he walked around front of the building and headed into the
coffee-shop to wait for her.

~~~

Jay hopped from her perch and vanished behind
the screen to don her clothes. When she was dressed, she wandered
around the studio, peering over each artist’s shoulder at their
drawings and paintings. During the first session she had wandered
around naked, prompting some grins, and not a few blushes, and
Allen to remark that she was the least shy model he’d
ever
encountered. She’d taken the hint and gotten dressed.

Most students used charcoals. One preferred
pastels. And one of the more experienced students was finishing up
a delicate watercolor that stole her breath. She could hardly
credit that the glorious creature in the painting was
her
.

“That’s simply exquisite, McPhee,” she told
the artist, a man in his early seventies with a head of thick, pure
white hair, and a neat goatee to match.

“Yes, m’dear. You certainly are.” His
eyes—so dark they were almost black—held a distinct twinkle.

“I meant the painting.”

He winked at her. “I know.”

Allen clucked like an old mother hen. “Quit
your flirting, McPhee. The girl’s already got a serious boyfriend.
And besides, you’re far too old for her.”

McPhee only laughed. “At risk of sounding
like a cliché, a man’s never too old to flirt with a beautiful
woman.”

“Thank you.” Jay was learning to accept his
compliments without demur. Protesting only made him grumpy and
provoked semi-growly outbursts in the vein of, “You calling me a
liar, m’dear?”

“I would love to buy this from you if you’re
willing to part with it.”

McPhee put down his brush to focus his full
attention on her. “Well now, that depends.”

“On what?”

“Whether you’re buying it for yourself or
someone else.”

“It’s for me,” Jay said.

“How badly d’you want it?”

What a strange question. “Badly.”

“Why?”

“Because when I look at the girl in the
painting it’s like I’m looking into her soul—into
my
soul.
It makes me feel—” She frowned, searching for the right words to
convey the joy that welled in her heart when she looked at his
painting. She could hardly tell him the truth, that she was drawn
to it, loved every brushstroke, every wash of color, because he’d
made her look human instead of a perfect-looking, perfectly
soulless machine.

“It makes me feel real.”

McPhee reached out to stroke a gnarled
finger down her cheek. “Child, it’s yours.”

She beamed at him, thrilled at the prospect
of owning the artwork. “How much are you asking for it?”

“Not a penny. It’s my gift to you,
m’dear.”

“I couldn’t possibly allow you to do that,
McPhee. It wouldn’t be right after all the work you’ve put into
it.”

“Lovey, it’s not like the old bugger needs
the money,” Allen piped up. “Go on, make his day. Let him give it
to you. He’ll dine out on the story for years.”

Something hot stung her eyes. Tears. She
hugged McPhee, hard and quick. And then drew back to blot the tears
away with the hem of her t-shirt. “Thank you.”