quirks had ever mattered to him before. Most of the time he spent with them was between the sheets and what they did involved little talking. Maybe if they had sex, he could get her out of his system.
“I’m guessing you’re enticed by more than her blood, even if she is Sangre Dulce. My grandmother told me she was made for my grandfather and he was made for her. Not sure what that means in terms of sex, but all I know is that it’s a soul mate thing.”
“That’s insane.”
Lily fished a tube of shimmery pink lipstick from her purse, applied it without a mirror, and tossed it back into her bag. She shook her head slowly as she rubbed her lips together, and when she looked at him again, she flashed him an all-knowing grin.
From across the room, a whoop of laughter erupted above the music, momentarily distracting him. The singer had jumped onto the dance floor and stroked the microphone stand between his lycra-clad legs like a giant hard-on while an orgasmic-like guitar riff went on and on. A woman with an animal-print thong teeing above the waistband of her jeans hopped onto a man’s back and dry-humped him while the crowd cheered.
Oh, for God’s sake. He turned his attention back to Lily who was still smiling, although he knew she despised this kind of music.
“No. I’m serious, Lil. I just need to be sure the DBs can’t track her. Then I’ll close the assignment and be done with it. I need to be in Portland.”
“Suit yourself, but I think you’re hosed, love.”
“NEED SOME help, Sam?” Mackenzie’s roommate struggled through the front door holding a precarious stack of cardboard boxes. “Here, let me—”
Dropping her paintbrush, Mackenzie jumped up and they hefted the boxes to the dining room table. “What do you have in here? These weigh a ton.”
“It’s for my new internet jewelry business. It’s a bunch of supplies I ordered.” Sam shrugged out of her jacket and started to put it on the chair across the table from Mackenzie, but she pivoted back to the entry way and hung it in the hall closet instead. Fluffing her short dark hair, Sam rewound her long, hand-knit scarf a couple times around her neck before she returned to the dining room and started opening boxes.
“When did you start that? Aren’t you still working at the hotel spa?”
Sam wasn’t quitting her job to start a business, was she? Giving up a regular paycheck? It had been a while since they’d been home at the same time. But still … wouldn’t she have let Mackenzie know? She eyed Sam warily over the top of the canvas. Mackenzie had liked Sam’s company this past year, but help with the mortgage was sort of the point in getting a roommate in the first place.
“Oh, I’m still working down there, but my clients kept asking me about all the jewelry I wear, so I decided to sell the stuff online. I’ve had a ton of hits on my website already and can’t believe all the orders I’ve gotten.”
“That’s exciting. How long has it been?” Thank God for regular paychecks.
“Only a couple weeks.” As Sam reached inside a box, several large medallions hanging under her scarf clanked together like gaudy wind chimes. One-of-a-kind pieces. Definitely. Missing were her trademark dangly chandelier earrings and all the bracelets she usually had stacked on each wrist. She must even be selling the jewelry she wore because she never took the stuff off.
“You still on for Friday night?” Mackenzie asked.
“The auction? You bet. But I prolly won’t bid on anything. Been spending all my extra funds on my jewelry stuff.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure I will, either, but these things are still fun to attend. It’s at the top of the Columbia Center. You know, the one with the amazing women’s bathroom?”
“Isn’t that the one where each stall has its own individual view of the city with floor-to-ceiling windows?”
“Yup. That’s the one.” Mackenzie picked up her brush and turned her attention back to her painting as Sam sifted through the contents. “You haven’t been home much lately. So this is what you’ve been up to.” Mackenzie fanned the canvas with her hand as if it would speed up the drying of oil paint. She knew it wouldn’t help, but she did it anyway because the piece needed to be finished by the weekend.
“Yeah, and, well, I’ve been seeing someone new.”
“What happened to Ethan?”
“He’s long gone. Started getting too serious so I broke up with him. Talking marriage and stuff.”
Oh, to be that cavalier. “So who’s the new guy? Don’t tell me you picked one up at the club again.” Mackenzie didn’t begrudge her roommate’s dating habits, but she did like to tease her.
“He’s a client, actually. Been staying at his place a lot but he works the graveyard shift, so we … ah … sleep a lot during the day. Don’t say anything if Gretchen calls. If my manager knew I was sleeping with a client, she’d have a shit-fit.”
“How’d that happen? You ask the guy if he wanted a happy ending?”
“Something like that. Said I had magical hands.”
“How original.”
Sam laughed, but it sounded a bit hollow.
Mackenzie looked up. Sam was rubbing the backs of her arms, a strained expression on her face. “You okay?”
“Of course.” But the words came out a little too fast.
Sam’s eyes drooped slightly at the corners and her posture lacked its usual energetic stance. She usually was so perky. Annoyingly perky. Had she not been sleeping well? Mackenzie decided not to ask. What woman wants to know she looks tired?
Over the top of her canvas, Mackenzie watched her roommate pull item after item from the boxes. Several large spools of wire, a bunch of hand tools and an item that looked like a freestanding, oversized butane lighter.
“What’s that for?” Mackenzie had seen a smaller, yet similar, device at Corey’s, but somehow she didn’t think Sam had bought it to light doobies.
“It’s a torch. You melt the ends of silver wire to make headpins. You know, the danglies on earrings, necklaces and bracelets? It can also fire small bits of precious metal clay. Like these.” She twisted her empty wrists and laughed. “Oops. I’m so used to wearing those bracelets, I forgot I didn’t have them on. I made these silver Celtic crosses with that clay, too, but they have to be fired in a kiln at the bead store. Too big for that little thing to work.”
“What are those going for? That’s a lot of silver. And they’re so ornate.”
“Two hundred bucks apiece.”
Mackenzie whistled and reached over. “May I? Have you sold any?” Sam came around the table and moved her scarf aside for Mackenzie to examine them more closely.
“Yeah, quite a few. I take orders for them online. Four or five should be out of the kiln today. Damn. That’s right. I need to pick them up and mail them out.”
With the scarf out of the way, Mackenzie’s
