Page 45 of The Muse
“Come on. I’m doing my best to inspire you. Isn’t that why your husband hired me? I can’t have you slitting your wrists or downing a fucking bottle of pills—forgive my language. But that will look terrible on my résumé … once I get out of jail. Oh, did I mention the police are on their way? I guess what I’m trying to say is, you don’t have any reason to be depressed. You’re rich. Your husband obviously cares about you. I bet you’ve never been to jail. Youhavethe option to stay in bed all day.”
Silence.
That’s it? She has nothing to say?
“What did you tell her about your past?”
I sit up in the chair and clear my throat just as Loki rubs up against my leg. “I told her I beat a man with a baseball bat for treating a young girl like a dog.”
More silence.
I drum my hand on my thigh.
She sighs. “Hold still.”
I freeze.
“That’s a lot to put on someone who doesn’t know you very well.”
“He was a terrible man,” I say.
“Does June know this man?”
“No.”
“Was she the girl you were protecting?”
“No.”
“Does she know the girl you were protecting?”
“No.”
“Then it’s too much. If she doesn’t feel invested in you, the man, or the girl, then it’s too much.”
“He put a fucking prong collar on her!” My fingers grip the arms of the chair.
Callie slowly sits up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Then she turns on the lamp.
We squint against the light for a few seconds as our eyes adjust.
“Vigilantes are complex. Sure, their intentions can be honorable. But to people who aren’t vigilantes, such extreme actions can seem appalling. Have you ever seen the showDexter?”
I shake my head.
“Well, it’s about a serial killer who only kills other serial killers.”
“An eye for an eye,” I say.
“Yes. But not everyone lives by that mantra. All I’m saying is you need to give people a chance to know you before you give them everything. If people on dating apps only listed their bad or questionable traits, no one would swipe left or right or whatever direction you’re supposed to swipe.”
I deflate, closing my eyes briefly. “She asked me to kiss her. I thought … I don’t know. I thought we were there. So now what?”
“I don’t know, Flynn,” she rubs her temples. “You have to tell her everything, or she’ll feel lied to. But you could lose her.” She shakes her head. “I can’t make this decision for you. But it’s never a bad idea to show her your softer side. Flowers. Write her a poem. Bake her something.”
“I don’t have a softer side. No money for flowers. I’ve never written a poem, so there’s no need to start now. And I don’t know how to bake. What else do ya got?”
Callie rubs her hands over her face before sliding her fingers into her hair. Her weary expression triggers my guilt. I like her. Even if I don’t understand why she needs a muse, I like her. She’s kind, and I haven’t had a lot of that.
