I… liked her this close… touching me.
A second later, Aliyana pulled away her hand and she held it up in front of my eyes for me to see.
“Marble,” she whispered, her dimples deepening as her lips gently pouted, eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You must have been real busy today. You’re covered.”
Something in my face must have caused her back off, because she dropped my hair and stepped back.
I gritted my teeth. I had no idea how to do all this shit. Women, this exhibition… be fucking normal.
“So have you?”
“What?”
“Been working all day.”
I could see the excitement in her eyes. I nodded my head before glancing away, putting my hands in my pockets.
I moved toward the dagger piece we’d discussed last night. It was now in the corner I’d suggested, high up on a plinth. There was a huge spotlight shining down on it. I frowned.
“If you don’t want it elevated, we can change it,” Aliyana suddenly said from beside me. Her scent of jasmine drifted past me again, my lips tightening at having her so close. She ran her hand over the white plinth, really studying the piece. “I asked it to be put higher to really maximize the effect of the rivulets. And I put the spotlight here tonight so you could see how it would look in the daylight. See?”
I bent down and immediately saw she was right. As I stood up again, Aliyana was biting her finger between her teeth.
“Well?” she asked.
“It’s perfect,” I rasped. It genuinely was. In the glare of the spotlight, rivulets ran down the sculpted man, off the plinth, and shadowed about two feet along the floor. The skin on my back pricked as I felt Aliyana watching me.
“So you approve?”
“Fuck… yeah… it’s…” I trailed off, not knowing how to express what it made me feel. I was never good with words. Not unless I was threatening you to pay up for your crack or I’d crowbar your fucking knees.
Aliyana’s hands clasped together and a proud expression settled on her face. That look made me step back. Get some distance.
I’d made her happy. I wasn’t sure how to deal with that. Happiness and me didn’t really sit right.
“So…” Aliyana said as she circled, gesturing to the statue. “Have you thought about its title?”
As I stared at that man, the rivulets nearly drowning his frame, the shadows looking like gushes of running blood, only one title came to mind. “Exsanguination,” I whispered before I’d time to think about it.
Aliyana tensed. Fuck. It was probably a stupid title. I was so shit at this whole art thing.
“The draining of blood?” Aliyana mused quietly. My eyes snapped to hers, but she was staring at the sculpture, an empathetic look on her face. “Exsanguination…” she murmured under her breath. Her shining eyes met mine.
“Of guilt,” I explained, my voice breaking. “Of every sin this man committed… of his actions that caused people pain… actions he can never take back. Those daggers are there for life.”
Aliyana sucked in a breath, and I dipped my head, feeling the truth of every word I’d just spilled cut into my black heart.
“And what was the inspiration?” she pushed tentatively.
I sighed and pushed my hair back from my face. I glanced to Aliyana, but I couldn’t take seeing the sorrow on her fucking beautiful face. “Shit, girl,” I snapped without caution. My eyes closed briefly as I tried to rein in these feelings, these fucking choking feelings I’d never dared let loose.
“You really need to know how I thought of this fucked-up piece? You need every damn sordid detail?” It came out harsher than I’d intended, but I wasn’t real comfortable with revealing this shit to anyone.
“Just something would be good.” Aliyana nervously inched closer to me, her voice barely above a whisper. “Like, how did you think of it? That should suffice for the text boards.”
Slowly inhaling through my nose, I dropped my head so my hair covered my face. “The guy’s a sinner. A guy that’s done some real fucked-up shit, but by the time he realized all the pain he’d caused others, it was too late. He’d already done the worst. He’d already ruined people… ruined lives… destroyed people’s innocence, changed people, forever changed people’s souls …”
In my mind, I saw Levi as a fourteen-year-old kid, me standing behind him, pointing out a member of a rival gang, a King. Levi held in his hands a Beretta. His little fingers were fucking shaking, face white with fear, scared shitless, but I ignored it all. Gio had nodded his head at me, ordering my little brother to earn the Heighter stidda, the star tattoo on a Heighter’s left cheek that showed you’d passed the initiation… by shooting a King.