Painless (26 page)

I walked out to the deck behind the pool and tipped the bottle back while enjoying the view of the ocean from one of the loungers.

Yeah, I was done working for the day, if not for the month.

There was only one thing on my mind as I worked my way through my bottle of bourbon.

Wentworth was right.

Those paintings inside were nothing more than illustrations. They didn’t have any heart in them.
 

Wentworth had seen it instantly.

Fuck.
 

I sloshed more bourbon down my throat.

===

SAMANTHA

I walked across campus to the lecture hall for Sociology. I was in a good mood after talking to Sheri Denney about my financial aid options.

Marrying Christos?

Was that a real possibility?

I was afraid to think about it too much in case I jinxed myself.

Sociology with Professor Tutan-yawn-yawn was the perfect cure. The lecture turned into a sleepy blur. I may or may not have taken notes. After class, I stopped at the Toasted Roast to freshen up my Americano. I hadn’t slept enough in the past four days, and I was going to need caffeine if I wanted to get through History without snoring.

When I walked into the lecture hall and sat down, a familiar face greeted me.

Justin Tomlinson, the editor of The Wombat humor newspaper. He was as boy band cute as ever. “Hey, Samantha,” he grinned, “we missed you on Friday.”

“Oh no! I totally forgot about your meeting,” I smiled sheepishly. “I’m totally sorry, I was…ah, super busy with homework.” Justin didn’t need to know about my harrowing trip to the courthouse to save Christos.
 

“No worries,” he smiled. “Everyone liked your stuff. You should join us at the meeting this coming Friday so you can meet everybody.”

“You mean I’m not black balled for missing my first meeting?” I quipped.

“Naw, we’re pretty laid back. You should totally come by. Same time, same place.”

“4:20 pot time? Toasted Roast? Wait, aren’t toasted and roasted both euphemisms for getting stoned?”

“Pretty much,” he winked.

“Maybe I should draw a pot smoking wombat for you guys?”

He cracked a smile, “I’d like to see how you handle a pot smoking wombat.”

“Cookies and potato chips,” I said flatly.

He was confused. “What?”

“Don’t wombats get the munchies like everyone else when they’re high?” I smiled. “If I had to deal with a pot smoking wombat, I’d give him cookies and potato chips.”

“Totally,” he chuckled. “I have a feeling you’re going to fit right in. Do you think you can have some sketches of Potty the Pot Smoking Wombat by Friday?”

“His name is Potty?” I arched an eyebrow.

“It is now,” Justin smiled.

Wait, had I just inadvertently named their mascot? Maybe I had. “Can I do something combining toilets and pot smoking? Maybe have Potty on the john while he’s smoking a big fat spliff?”

“You can do anything you want. Run with it. There. Are. No. Rules,” he grinned.

Wow, I liked the sound of that. “Okay. I’ll have some drawings on Friday!”

“Awesome.”

I couldn’t wait to tell Christos. I had my first real live art assignment!

Chapter 12

SAMANTHA

“You have to draw a what?” Christos asked. He was super drunk.

“A pot smoking wombat sitting on a toilet, for The Wombat newspaper,” I said.

We were in Christos’ studio, where my new drawing table was. I couldn’t wait to start sketching cartoon wombats. I thought Christos would be working when I got home from SDU, but the model was gone and he had been sitting in front of his easel with a bottle of booze in one fist.

Christos slowly swiveled his glassy eyes in my direction. “Do you want me to sneak into the zoo and steal one for reference?”

“What, a wombat?”

“Yeah. I could go all ninja and climb over the fence at night. I know a way in,” he nodded ultra seriously. Then he held his palm to the side of his mouth and whispered, “There’s a grade school on the north side of the San Diego Zoo and their playground goes right up to the back of it.”

I wrinkled my nose, “Does the zoo even have wombats?”

“Probably. We should totally take one and keep him as a pet. I’ll name him Womby the Wombat. Wouldn’t that be totally cute?”

“I guess?” As in, it sounded like a terrible idea.

“We can climb right over the fence,” Christos slurred. “Let’s you and me go right now. I’ll drive.”

“Ahh, you probably shouldn’t be driving or climbing ninja style or anything else tonight. Maybe you should lie down for awhile?”

“But the wombat will get away!”

I chuckled, “I’m sure Womby will be fine for tonight.”

Christos giggled fluidly and leaned his head against my arm, “You like the name Womby, don’t you?”

He reeked of alcohol.

“It’s perfect,” I smiled indulgently.

In a high voice, Christos baby talked, “We’ll make a wittle bed for Womby wight in da coner of da studio.”

“Why don’t we make a bed for Womby right now? You can test it out.”

“’Kay,” he slurred.

I led Christos into the living room and helped him onto the couch. I took his boots off and covered him in a blanket. After grabbing my sketchbook, I sat in the leather chair opposite him and turned on the reading light. I went to work on my sketches of Potty the Pot Smoking Wombat. It took about ten seconds to realize I didn’t know what a wombat looked like. Maybe Christos had been onto something with his wombat kidnapping master plan.

Or I could just look for a picture on the internet.
 

I dug out my laptop and returned to the living room. With dozens of wombat photos on the screen and my sketchbook at the ready, I dove into cartoon dreamland as I drew page after page of toilet sitting pot smoking profligate wombats.

Who knew wombats were almost as cute as koala bears? I’d been expecting some kind of bat monster, but it turned out wombats had the same big black noses as koalas, and their ears were these tiny little button things.

So cute!

===

“Are you sure this is okay, Sam?” Romeo asked nervously as we walked across campus toward the Student Center on Friday afternoon.

It was just after four o’clock and we were on our way to The Wombat staff meeting at Toasted Roast. The sun was out and it was a warm end of February day.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I reasoned enthusiastically. “That guy Justin made it sound like anyone could submit stuff to The Wombat. He said some of the artists work with writers on the comic strips. I don’t know anyone funnier than you, Romeo.”

“What if it turns out Justin was just hitting on you and they don’t need more writers? They’re not going to need my gay super powers then,” he said anxiously. “I become a liability.”

“Relax, Romeo. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

“Okay. But if something goes wrong, don’t expect me to shoot rainbows out of my fingertips and save the day,” he warned.

“No problem,” I chuckled. “At no time will I require the use of your rainbow super powers. But I may call upon them later. Deal?”

“Deal. But you know how shooting too many rainbows drains me,” he grinned.

“What happened to that infamous Romeo stamina?”

He smiled, “It’s all a facade, Sam. Once I shoot my rainbow load, it takes at least a week to recharge. Don’t tell anybody, or my rainbow reputation will be ruined.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” I crossed my heart with my fingers. “Hey, I bet if you found a bunch of unicorns it would speed up your rainbow recovery time.”

Romeo rolled his eyes. “You’ve been hanging around with Kamiko and watching way too much Adventure Time. I wasn’t talking about cartoon rainbows. The only place I can go in San Diego to recharge my rainbow is Hillcrest.”

“Is that why you’ve been going there?”

“Of course.”

We walked across the Student Center quad.

Outside the Toasted Roast there were a ton of free tables. This late in the day, most of the students were gone, especially on Friday. The only time it was ever crowded at the Student Center in the afternoon was when SDU had a band playing in the quad, but that usually happened in the fall or spring.

It was almost 4:20, so I looked around for Justin Tomlinson. He waved from a group of tables that had been pushed together. Five other students sat around him.

Me and Romeo walked over to join them.
 

“Hey, Justin,” I said to him. “Everybody, my name is Samantha. This is my friend Romeo.”

A girl with black plastic hipster glasses said to me sarcastically, “Shouldn’t your name be Juliet?”

There was a long, drawn out moment of silence. I think she was being a bitch, but I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. I thought Justin had said everyone on the paper was laid back?

Romeo glared at the bitchy girl with the hipster glasses. In a sarcastic voice, he said, “I have rainbow super powers. I promised Sam I wouldn’t use them, but I will if I have to. They work especially well on hipster bitches.”

I winced, expecting everyone to frown and turn their backs on us, or maybe just boo and hiss until we left.

Justin raised an eyebrow, and in a serious tone said, “Ever since Keith used his super powered farts at the last meeting, we voted to make this a super power free zone. We all agreed his super powered farts had lost their comedic effect,” Justin grinned, now obviously joking around.

“But not their horrid stench,” snickered the second girl, who had a nose ring, dark hair, and lots of black eye liner.

One of the two guys sitting at the table smiled guiltily and rolled his eyes. I imagined he was Keith, the super powered farter. He had a thick dark under-beard. It was just the beard part with no mustache. He had a lot of beard for a young guy.

The other guy, who was snickering at Keith, had long black emo hair that draped over one of his eyes and was died red at the tips.
 

“So,” Justin smiled at Romeo, “even if you tried shooting rainbows, which I would pay to see, your super powers won’t work here at the meeting because of all the magical fart repellant in effect.”

“Oooh,” Romeo said, super excited, “where do you guys get your fart repellant? I hear that stuff is expensive.”

“Costco,” Justin winked. “We buy in bulk.”

Keith rolled his eyes once again. Everyone else laughed and smiled, except for the girl with the hipster glasses, who folded her arms across her chest and grimaced.

Everyone was laughing so much, me and Romeo joined in.

Keith of the Underbeard said, “What? I told you guys I had beans for lunch so I couldn’t be held criminally responsible for bad gas.”

“Dude,” Emo Hair chuckled, “those were beer farts. Don’t deny it.”

“At 4:20?” Keith asked. “I was so not beer fart drunk that early.”

“Bullshit!” said the girl with the nose ring. “You were wasted last Friday!”

“Maybe by 5:20, but I assure you I was not beer farting at 4:20,” Keith sneered.

They all shared another laugh, even Hipster Glasses. Clearly, they knew each other well. I’d been expecting some kind of exclusive boy’s club like in those college party movies like Animal House. I hadn’t expected two girls.

“All I want to know is,” the girl with the nose ring said, chuckling in advance of what she was about to say, “who would win in a fight? Keith with his toxic farts, or Romeo and his rainbows. I want to see them go head to head.”

“Keith’s farts would totally win,” Emo Hair said, deadpan.

Nose ring laughed and Keith rolled his eyes.

“All right, guys,” Justin said. “Samantha, Romeo, meet Keith, Micah, Alyssa, and everyone’s favorite SDU hipster, Tammy Lemons.”

They all waved as Justin called their names, except for Tammy, who made a sour face.

Micah was the guy with the red-tipped emo hair. Alyssa had the nose ring and wore a T shirt that had a picture of a Tyrannosaurus rex saying “Rawr!” The caption below read, “Rawr means ‘I love you’ in dinosaur.” Tammy Lemons, of course, was the girl with the hipster glasses.

Aside from Tammy, I liked these guys.

“Pull up a chair,” Justin said.

Me and Romeo sat down.

“So,” Justin said, “you guys remember those drawings of Samantha’s that I emailed everyone?”

“Yeah,” Keith nodded, grinning.

“Totally,” Micah chuckled.

“Funny stuff,” Alyssa smiled.

“They were okay,” Tammy shrugged. No surprise there. I think Tammy was going to take awhile to thaw out. Whatever.

“Well,” Justin continued, “I asked Samantha to work up some drawings for a new Wombat mascot.”

“We already have one,” Tammy said snidely.

Yeah, she was a bitch. I was now one hundred percent sure.

“But it’s just a plain old wombat,” Alyssa said. “It’s boring.”

“Did you bring some new drawings for us?” Keith asked me.

“I did,” I said and pulled out my sketchbook. I opened it up to the first wombat sketch and set it in the middle of the table.

The group started flipping through my drawings. There were at least a dozen. It didn’t take long before the group was grinning and laughing, except for Tammy, of course. Tammy mostly frowned at my art.

“That one looks constipated,” Micah smiled.

“Maybe he should drink more beer,” Alyssa quipped, “then he’d always have beer diarrhea like Keith.”

Everyone groaned.

“It wasn’t beer farts,” Keith said defensively while the group continued turning pages of my sketchbook, fascinated by my artwork.

I’d never experienced anything like it. I’d sort of expected them to nod politely and not say anything about my art at all, or maybe tell me I wasn’t very good, not be obviously entertained and amused.

“Have you ever seen a blunt so fat?” Micah marveled, referring to the giant joint in the next drawing. “That’s like an entire ounce of ganj.”

“The only time I see that much weed in one place is when I buy a fresh ounce that you haven’t gotten into yet, Micah,” Keith groused.

“Dude, that’s bullshit. You still owe me a bunch of blunts from over Christmas,” Micah scoffed.

Keith shook his head and scowl smiled at him.

They continued turning pages, and found something amusing about each drawing.