Skullduggery {sapphic thriller}

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"So Miles, huh?" I murmured, following them out of the greenhouse tent. "I love that for you."

"I wanted something that sounded similar, thinking it'd be easier on my grandma. But she just thinks I'm some random guy who visits her. Although, she does want to set me up with her favorite granddaughter so there's that," they laughed.

Miles had grown up poor like me, but had been raised by their grandparents out here in the country, while I spent most of my childhood moving around with my mom and her boyfriends on the lower east side. I'd always found it easy to relate to them because they knew how hard it was growing up. Artie and her family threw money at every problem and if that couldn't fix it, her father always had other means.

Miles was nothing like that.

"Is it just you running everything now?"

They glanced back towards the first tent with a nod. "Yep. It gets a little lonely up here. But I wouldn't have it any other way."

They led me around the last tent into an open field where an old glass Victorian greenhouse stood. Its wrought iron frame mimicked the same architectural details that Artie had chosen for the rehabbed residential buildings downtown. Metal arches stretched to its gabled peak where sharp, pointed spires trimmed its spine. Beyond the glass panels, a wall of lush foliage hid most of the interior.

As Miles opened the door, thick humid heat escaped from inside, pushing around my bare shoulders and legs. I stepped down onto a floor of ivory pebbles, completely surrounded by palms and figs and other tropical plants in giant urns.

"Welcome to the Hot House," Miles said, shutting the door behind them. "It's still a work in progress, but it's coming along."

"It's beautiful." I ran my finger along the waxy mottled leaf of a rubber tree as I looked around. An antique patio sofa and matching chairs sat in the center. Trellises of mandevilla vined up from behind, blooming in pink and white. Beneath a retracting shade canopy, giant coleus tumbled from cement urns. "It kinda reminds me of the set for Eden."

"Not gonna lie, it was definitely my inspo."

"Cora actually brought up the series last night when she mentioned you. I didn't dare ask what happened to the paintings though. Probably hanging in some pervy guy's bedroom or something."

"Yeah," Miles chuckled. "I bet you're right." They walked over to a sink at a potting station and began washing their hands. "There's a pack of smokes in the nightstand drawer. Past the Bird of Paradise over there."

I hadn't even noticed a wooden hand-carved privacy screen past all the fronds that separated the nook. A desk and easel occupied both corners and in between, a metal daybed centered the glass wall.

And straight above it was Eden, the first in the series that we had posed for as a nude and lewd, sapphic Adam and Eve rendition. Vines and blooms sprouted from our eviscerated bodies, entwining us.

But much of it had since been repainted to reflect Miles' body now, showing visible scars from their top surgery, thick hair on their face and elsewhere. A split pomegranate still hid our junk. I glanced back at Miles through the leaves, but they kept their eyes to the sink, scrubbing diligently at their hands with a nailbrush.

With a smile, I wandered over to the desk and opened the drawer. Inside was a pack of Reds and an opened box of condoms.

"Just crank one of the windows open so you don't piss everyone off," they called out.

Everyone being all the plants.

I slid the drawer shut instead, craving something more filling than nicotine. "I'm good, actually. Nasty habit."