All the Pretty Lies by M. Leighton Page A

feel sure he’ll be wanting
to see you.” I’m not quite sure of what to make of his comment, but
he distracts me from it when he sticks his hand out and introduces
himself. “I’m Paul by the way. I’m one of the part-time
artists.”
    I return his smile and take his hand. “Hi,
Paul. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Sloane.”
    “Sloane,” he repeats. “It’s gonna be very
nice to see you around here, Sloane.”
    Virgin or not, I can still spot appreciation
in a man’s eyes. And there’s appreciation in Paul’s. Lots and lots
of appreciation.
    “You’re a flirt, Paul,” I tell him bluntly.
“But I like you anyway.”
    “I knew you would. Girls can’t help it. Wanna
touch my hair?”
    He bends his head slightly forward,
presenting me with his stiff Mohawk. It’s a silly gesture on his
part, but it makes me grin. And I do actually want to touch
his hair once he practically shoves it in my face.
    “What is that?” I ask as I touch the
spikes.
    Paul lifts his head, dances his fingers over
his prickly hair and grins at me. “You don’t even want to know.” He
starts to back away, toward the chair that now has a client in it.
“See you around, Sloane.”
    I smile as I watch him go greet the heavy
man. He offers his hand in an upright handshake, taking the
customer’s palm against his and patting the back side like they’re
old frat buddies or something.
    Paul. What a character.
    I turn my attention back to Hemi. I make my
way across the room to the little cubby where he works. It’s not
until I round the corner that I see how “not a client” the woman
actually is. A gorgeous blonde, she’s leaning into him like she’s very familiar with him.
    When I stop in my tracks, they both turn
their head toward me. Hemi looks irritated. The woman
looks…hungry.
    “Pardon me, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” I
say to the woman. I glance at Hemi. “Paul said I could come over.
But if you’d rather I wait out in the lobby….”
    “No, you’re fine, sweetie,” the woman says.
Up close, I can see that her eyes are a cool gray and her face is a
study in perfection. “I was just leaving.” She turns a stunning
smile on Hemi. “Thanks again, babe. I’ll repay you. I promise.” The
woman brushes her lips over Hemi’s before she leans away from him.
“I’ll let you get back to work.”
    She slides past me in a swirl of expensive
perfume. I can only imagine what kind of swagger a woman like that
has. I refuse to look, but, then again, I don’t really need to. The
way Hemi is watching her go tells me all I need to know.
    No wonder he has no interest in me. Not
really. In a thousand years and with a team of plastic surgeons,
there’s no way I could compete with a woman who looks like that.
No. Frickin’. Way.
    I feel a lump lodge in my throat. I shouldn’t
let this upset me. I mean, I was looking at Hemi as just a means to
do some living, to rid myself of my virginity. That’s all,
right?
    Right?
    “I can come back later if you’re busy,” I
tell him, proud that there is no quaver in my voice.
    “No, that’s not necessary. We were…we were
done.” Hemi looks down at the folder I’ve got a death grip on. “Are
those the papers for me to fill out?”
    “Yes, I guess you can sign them all since
you’re the manager.” He doesn’t flinch when I say this. He must not
care whether I know or not.
    Hemi takes the forms out of the folder and
puts them on the small counter off to one side of his cubby. As he
reads over them, the silence—and the curiosity—is too much to
bear.
    “So, she’s…attractive.”
    “I guess,” comes his absent reply.
    He makes no move to explain further. I should
let it go. But I can’t. I just can’t.
    “Is she, like, an ex-employee or
something?”
    “No.”
    “Is she your sister?”
    “No.”
    “A cousin? A loan shark? A nun?” I’m crossing
my fingers he says yes to the last one.
    He doesn’t give me a grin or even look my way
over the nun part. “No,