Page 11 of The Art of Scandal

Matt glanced at the house. “It’s mine, too, Rachel, just like you’re still my wife. I know you won’t believe this, but that still means something to me.”

Rachel leaned in, close enough to smell the mint from his mouthwash. “I may have to stand by your side and keep my mouth shut in public, but don’t ever call me your wife again. That’s rule number three.”

Matt sniffed and wrinkled his nose. “Are you drunk?”

Rachel gulped the last of the soda. “Yes.” She shoved the cup against his stomach. He grabbed it instinctively, eyes wide as she walked past him toward the house. “I’d get used to it if I were you.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Nathan couldn’t identify the smells coming from his kitchen, which usually happened whenever Bobbi Kim came over to cook. She liked to pretend it was altruistic, that she was saving him from a sad single-man diet of frozen pizza and takeout, but she actually wanted to use the space. Bobbi’s condo barely had enough room for furniture. She also had a roommate who worked from home and complained whenever an appliance ran during her Zoom calls. Nathan lived alone in his studio with a Viking gas range that Bobbi didn’t think he deserved. Last week, she bit his head off when he used it to boil ramen noodles for lunch.

“What are you making?” Nathan sat on a bar stool at his kitchen island. Bobbi’s hands were a rapid blur, her chef’s knife making quick work of a pile of vegetables. A large bowl of beaten eggs sat at her elbow, speckled with black pepper and other spices he couldn’t identify. Experimentation had always been her thing. When they were kids, it was a chemistry set. In college, it was switching majors and sneaking around with married women. Three years into being a line chef at a small DC restaurant, it was the aromatic contents of unlabeled jars ground to dust with a mortar and pestle.

“Breakfast,” she said. “A real breakfast, not that powdered milk shit your brother got you hooked on.”

“It’s a protein smoothie.” He sipped his coffee and eyed with suspicion the deep casserole dish she had buttered. Nathan didn’t remember buying it. His apartment was furnished during a big spending spree when he bought the building. There were probably towels and bedsheets somewhere in shrink wrap with the price tags still attached. “Joe says it’s vegan.”

“That doesn’t make it good for you. Why don’t you eat actual food in the morning?”

“I’m not big on breakfast. Too many eggs.”

Bobbi paused midchop to glare at him. She was tall, nearly his height, and usually wore her long hair piled on top of her head in a gravity-defying bun. He’d never seen Bobbi fight anyone, but he had once seen her stare down a cop so hard that he ripped up a parking ticket. Nathan took another drink of his coffee and vowed to keep all egg-related opinions to himself.

“I drew that thing you asked for,” he said.

She dropped the knife and clasped her hands. “Ooh! Can I see?” Bobbi vibrated with the same energy that she brought to discovering a new restaurant or adding a dish she’d created to the menu at work. Unlike his erratic relationship with art, Bobbi’s passion was focused and uncluttered—a laser aimed at whatever brought her joy. Sometimes he avoided putting his work in her crosshairs because he didn’t want to disappoint her. But other times, like now, her excitement was contagious. It made him feel like the hours he burned away struggling to capture his daydreams on paper weren’t a complete waste of time.

Nathan sent her the image. He didn’t draw things for other people very often, but when Bobbi asked for one of her favorite characters from the Phoenix Prophecies series, he couldn’t say no. Those books were the reason they’d been friends since junior high. If she hadn’t caught him readingLost Among the Ashesduring detention, she would probably still be calling him Nate the Late behind his back. He’d racked up more tardies in a single semester than any other kid in his grade that year.

Bobbi was the only person who understood why he posted Phoenix fan art online. It wasn’t just loving the books. It was the satisfaction of channeling his compulsive need to draw into creating something that people wanted. This one was for her first tattoo. He had drawn Neptune for her, a water mage cradling the moon as she hovered above the ocean. Nathan had surrounded the character with waves, the whitecaps indistinguishable from the flowing fabric of her dress. Neptune’s coloring was similar to Bobbi’s golden skin tone. Her hair was inky curls that floated up and merged with the night sky.

Bobbi gazed at the picture with such adoration that he snuck another look at his work, trying to see it through her eyes. But he could only see the flaws, so he quickly dimmed the screen again.

“This is amazing,” Bobbi said. “You really outdid yourself, Nettles.”

Nathan thanked her with ano big dealshrug. His throat was tight, and any attempt at words would probably become some raw and messy confession about how down he’d been feeling lately. Bobbi would freak. Then she’d tell Dillon and both of his friends would converge, wringing their hands becauseNate’s not himself, which would force him to admit that he actuallywasbeing himself. He’d been this needy his whole life, but had never let them see it.

Nathan popped a chili pepper into his mouth. The burn cleared his head, but quickly escalated into a coughing fit that made his eyes water. Bobbi nudged over a bowl of shredded cheese and resumed ogling the picture.

“You keep getting better,” she said. “Did you try a new technique this time? No, don’t tell me. I like trying to figure it out on my own.”

The cheese helped, but his mouth was still on fire. “Don’t put those peppers in whatever you’re cooking.”

“Did you get the link I sent you about selling your designs online? People would pay a fortune for something like this.”

“For a tattoo of some book character?” His laugh was strangled by another cough. “I don’t like encouraging questionable choices.”

“Okay, hypocrite.” Bobbi pointed to the evidence of his Phoenix devotion tattooed on his forearm.

“A phoenix is objectively badass.” He ran his hand over the image. “I can make up ten stories about where this came from.”

She put her phone away and ate one of the demonic peppers without wincing. “You shouldn’t be ashamed of what inspires you.”

Nathan wasn’t interested in starting another debate about whether he should post his work under his real name. While Bobbi’s hobbies were indistinguishable from her career, Nathan preferred to keep his life in separate, tidy compartments, to ensure the different parts never touched. She saw his obstinate expression and huffed in defeat. “Dillon’s been blowing up my phone since you ditched him last night.”

“I didn’t ditch him. I wasn’t feeling those two girls he met at the gas station.”

“Sounds like you were being an asshole.” She dumped a handful of vegetables into the eggs, picked up a whisk, and stirred with superhuman speed.

---