Vero grins at him. “I say she’s hired. What do you say?”
“Fuck, yeah.” Joseph winks, addressing me. “But I don’t tweak other people’s art. You’re going to have to finish this baby yourself.”
“Really?” I look between Joseph and Vero. “Do you mean that?”
“Shall we make an appointment for next week?” Vero asks Holly. “Violet will have a detailed drawing ready for you then. If you’re happy with the end-result, we can fit you for the tattooing in about six months’ time.”
“That sounds good,” Holly says.
Joseph stands. “You can go back to reception, sweetheart. They’ll jot you down for your next appointment.”
“Follow me, Violet,” Vero says, walking with swaying hips to the door. “I can give you a contract to read over right away.”
I say goodbye to Holly and Joseph and follow Vero to her office.
“Joseph is crazily good with tats,” she says soft enough for her voice not to carry through the door. “But he struggles to read people. I have a feeling the two of you are going to complement each other well.”
Another fifteen minutes later, I’m hired, earning not only three times the salary Gus paid me, but I also have three weeks of paid leave per year and a pension fund. Vero explains that they don’t have a company medical aid plan, but that the higher gross salary compensates for that and allows me to choose a private aid of my preference, at which Leon assures her that I’m already added to his medical plan with full benefits. Which only leaves signing the contract.
I’m walking on air when we leave. I can’t believe I’ve been so lucky. Although, I’m sure landing the job had more to do with Leon’s name dropping than my talent.
“Congratulations,” Leon says, kissing my temple as he opens the car door for me. “I never had a doubt you’d get the job.”
“Thank you,” I say, meaning it like never. “Your friend, Walter, must have some serious influence with Vero.”
He smiles. “You heard what Vero said. She wouldn’t have given you the job if you didn’t merit it.”
Glancing at the neon name running over the building when he pulls out of the parking lot, I say, “I hope I’ll live up to their expectations.”
“I’m sure you will.” He cups my knee. “I have faith in your abilities.”
I don’t miss the carefully chosen words. He didn’t say he had faith in me.
“I think we should celebrate,” he says. “Let’s have dinner out tonight.”
A memory of our last failed attempt at dining at a restaurant flashes through my mind. I don’t say yes or no. It won’t matter what I say.
Leon drops me off at home and announces he has to catch up with work at the office. Dragging me against him, he says, “I’ll make a reservation at Oscars for eight, so be ready at seven-thirty. I’ll make sure I’m home at seven to change.”
He uses my hair as leverage to pull my head to the side, exposing my neck. Like always, he doesn’t kiss me on the lips. He nips the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a hickey before roughly putting me aside.
“Later, darling,” he says as he walks through the door.
I’m left standing there, feeling unanchored and adrift as I so often do these days. When loneliness creeps up on me again, I call my mom to check in on her and to tell her the news. She says she’s happy for me but I’m too talented to work as a tattoo artist, at which I remind her how scarce work is these days. We make a lunch date for the following week before I hang up. Even though she assured me she’s fine, I can’t help but worry when I’m not there to keep an eye on her.
To distract myself, I invite Zelda over for lunch. In the afternoon, I swim a few laps, and when there’s nothing else for me to do, I sit down at Leon’s desk and finish my latest drawing, which is of a woman locked in a beautiful, golden cage. I’m adding the finishing touches when the turn of a key sounds in the front door. A jolt of shock runs through me. I check the time on my phone. It’s only five. Leon isn’t supposed to be home until seven.
Blotching the wet paint with tissue paper, I make sure the watercolors won’t run. Then I hurriedly gather my sketches and push them back into the folder. There’s no time to put it back in its hiding place. I’ll have to hide it somewhere else, but where?
I look around frantically as the door swings open, and Leon enters. He dumps his keys and an envelope on the entrance table and takes off his leather jacket.
From the hallway, he has a view of the kitchen and lounge. I’m trapped. He’ll see me if I go out onto the deck. Clutching the folder against my chest, I exit his study.
“Hi,” I say, my voice hoarse. “I thought you were coming home later.”
He looks between me and his study, suspicion dark on his face. “I finished early.”
“Okay.” I sidestep to the stairs. “I’ll go get ready.”
“Violet.”
The harsh sound of my name on his lips stops me.
He crosses the floor slowly and stops in front of me. “What were you doing in my study?”
I lick my dry lips. “Nothing.”
“Nothing,” he repeats, dropping his gaze to the folder in my hands. “That doesn’t look like nothing.”
“It’s nothing.” I back up to the stairs. “Really.”