I wake up and yawn as I sit up from the lumpy couch. My phone rings and I groan when I see it's the number of the school. I ignore it and plop back down on the couch. The phone rings again and I clench my jaw and finally answer it.
"The faculty informed me that they never saw you on your first day." The headmaster alerts me as if waiting for an excuse or a plausible reason for me not doing my job.
"I'm pretty sure I did that intentionally." I scoff.
"Well, I suggest you intentionally make it to school today, or get fired and get sent back where you came from." The headmaster warns and I roll my eyes.
"I don't have the right attire." I counter.
"Pick them up from the office." He orders and I clench my jaw, not liking that he seems to have an answer for everything.
"Why the hell is it so important that I even work at the school? I'm practically a glorified janitor or hall monitor. The list of duties is a joke. Hire someone else and say it's me. It's not like you want me there-." I start arguing, knowing it's true.
"It's mandatory and part of your parole, unless you find a different full time job." He explains and I huff and rub my forehead.
"And you care because?" I ask and the phone hangs up and I roll my eyes.
I get up, dressed and then head out. I walk past the art gallery again and it hits me that the guy I talked with yesterday morning was the lead singer in the Lincoln Hawk band.
"Back again?" He asks in the doorway with a cup of coffee in his hand.
"Just heading to-it doesn't matter. I'm stalling honestly." I admit and he smirks.
"Oh really? Well, how about I help you with stalling more?" He offers and beckons me to come inside.
"How are you gonna do that?" I ask as I start to walk up the stairs.
"Maybe by asking what artists you like?" He shrugs and I step into the studio behind him.
"I like The Ninth Wave by the Russian painter Ivan Aivazovsky."
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"Oh, yeah? What do you like about it?" He tests me and I chuckle, understanding his angle.
"The contrast of the dark water reflecting the sun. I like how the people are on a little raft in rough and dangerous waves, yet it looks sturdy."
"You like any other artists?" He asks as he hands me a fresh cup of coffee.
"The Bay of Naples at moonlit night by Vesuvius. I like the dark color and yet the calming sense you get from when you look at it." I start explaining and I stop when I see the guy smiling at me.
"You like the Tempest on the sea at night?" He asks about another painting.
"Yeah, I do. It almost has a fish eye visual element to it." I say and he nods.
"Yeah, the way the clouds and the waves curve does give it that feeling, doesn't it?" He agrees.
"You new in town?" He changes the subject.
"Yeah, came here a few days ago." I say, not revealing anything else.
"Well, if you're looking for a job, I could use someone like you with your knowledge and skill." He offers and I'm actually stunned.
"Really? What would I be doing?" I ask.
"Could help me figure out what paintings to hang up and where. Keep the place looking clean to get more possible customers. I mean, you're hired if you want." He shrugs, seeing completely serious.
"I'd love to...but uh...."
"What's wrong?" He asks and I know I have to tell him the truth.
"I'm a convicted felon that was just released from prison." I confess and he licks his lips and sighs, I figure that's my cue and turn around to start leaving.
"Where are you going?" He asks and I turn back confused.
"Look, I get it, you have a reputation and-."
"You didn't even give me a chance to think about it." He counters.
"You were still thinking about it?" I ask stunned and he nods and scratches his stubbled chin.
"What did you get arrested for?" He asks and I huff knowing this question was coming.
"You want the police report answer or the truth?" I ask and he tilts his head, intrigued.
"Are they different?" He asks and I nod in a glum manner.
"Let's go with the truth then." He shrugs.
"I killed all the guys that were in an illegal underground card game. Most of them being dirty cops." I answer and he gulps as he takes that information in.
"Why?" He asks and I clench my jaw.
"Does it matter?" I mutter.
"Yeah, it does." He admits and I huff.
"Let's just say that gambling wasn't their only crime. They had a thing for...taking advantage of some girl in trouble. One of them tried to trap me into being one of the prizes in the game...let's just say I lost control of my anger after hearing that I wasn't the first girl who had been offered this. Except she didn't survive because they took turns for over a week, barely feeding her and keeping her hydrated. She wasn't the only one either. They were mostly hookers, so no one looked into their disappearances. I'm not a hooker, but no one deserves that." I answer and he thinks it over and nods.
"What does the police report say?" He asks.
"That I killed the two men in self defense who weren't cops, and the other cops were killed in the line of duty." I answer and he hums and rubs his jaw, clearly thinking it over.
"How did you get released?" He asks.
"Maybe they figured I cost too much to keep inside. Too many...incidents that required hospitalization. Top dogs usually don't like people they can't control or scare. Plus, since the report says it was self defense, a lawyer plead my case and got me out on early release." I explain and he just looks at me with an understanding or something in his eyes.
"Okay." He says.
"Okay?" I ask.
"You're hired." He explains.
"Just like that?" I ask.
"Just like that. As long as you promise to not kill anyone again." He says and I nod.
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