Painless (The Story of Samantha Smith #3)

by Devon Hartford

“Something bothering you?” Nikolos asked, concern on his face.

  “Oh, uh, nothing.”

  “Don’t kid a kidder, Samantha. You look like someone killed your kitten. What is it?”

  Nikolos was so friendly and kind, I couldn’t help opening up to him. “I owe the university a bunch of money I don’t have.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My tuition payment is late because I used up the little loan money I already had. I was supposed to pay in monthly installments but I ran out of cash.”

  “Is that why you were asking about the maid job?”

  “Yeah. Jobs are scarce right now. I can’t even find a math tutoring job, which I would be good at.”

  He took a sip of his lemonade, “I thought you said you were working at a convenience store.”

  “I was. I was also working at the campus art museum.”

  He smiled, “You were working at the Eleanor M. Westbrook museum?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That must be fun.”

  “It was,” I winced.

  “Was?” His brows knit. “What happened?”

  “It’s a long story,” I groaned.

  “It sounds to me like you’re in dire straits.”

  “That’s an understatement,” I rolled my eyes. It was all pouring out now and I couldn’t stop myself. I blamed it on Nikolos’ sympathetic ear. Stupid ears. I’d vowed to deal with this myself and not put it on someone else.

  “Have you ever considered looking for work in an art studio?”

  “Oh,” I sighed, “I’ve totally looked for art jobs. Besides the museum, which was just being a cashier, there are none. No one hires artists that I could find.”

  “I would.”

  I frowned. “Huh?”

  “I could use an assistant in my studio. Mixing paint by hand takes forever. Same with stretching canvases and building frames. It’s all time consuming work. It would be nice to have someone do it for me while I oversaw the process. Someone I can train, and someone I can trust.”

  I gave him a funny look. “Like who?”

  “Like you,” he smiled.

  I shook my head, “Oh, I couldn’t do that.”

  “I thought you said you needed to find a job. I’m hiring.”

  “I can’t take your money, Mr. Manos.”

  “Call me Nikolos.”

  “You’re my boyfriend’s dad,” I scoffed, “I can’t call you by your first name.”

  “Sure you can. And if you work for me, it’ll be part of the job requirement.”

  A spark of hope twinkled in my chest. I really did need a job. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m serious.”

  My mouth gaped open. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Thank you always works,” he grinned.

  “Thank you, Mr. Manos!” I leaned over the table and hugged him, almost knocking over his lemonade glass.

  He caught it and smiled, “Careful!”

  “Thank you so much!” I sat back down. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  He smiled. “Aren’t you going to ask what it pays?”

  “Oh! Yeah, duh.”

  “How much is your tuition payment?” he asked.

  “What? No, I couldn’t.” I shook my head vigorously.

  “How much?” he insisted.

  I sighed. “It’s over five thousand.”

  “How about I make your payment for you, and you can work it off.”

  “I could never do that!”

  “Why not?”

  “I can’t take your money,” I pleaded.

  “Who said anything about taking? You’re going to work it off. There’s always things to do around the studio, believe me. You’re going to become an expert at cleaning brushes.”

  “I don’t know,” I said hesitantly.

  “Look, Samantha. Artists have apprentices. Apprentices do all the grunt work while watching the artist work. Not only will you get paid, you’ll be learning something. It’s one of those work study jobs. Because seriously, how much were you learning about art by ringing up people at the cash register at the museum?”

  He had a point.

  “Let’s say I pay you twenty an hour. You can work off the five thousand that way. It won’t take too long, I’m sure.”

  “How many hours do you want me to work a week?”

  “As many as you want.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes.”

  I did the numbers in my head. If I worked part time, say twenty hours a week, it would only take about three months to cover my tuition bill. Oh wait. That only covered the one past due. I’d figure out the third one due a month from now later.

  “Do we have a deal?” he asked, holding his hand across the table.

  I shook it. “Yes!”

  What a pleasant surprise!

  Now all I had to worry about was getting expelled from SDU for attacking Tiffany and stealing her credit card.

  Screw Tiffany!

  I had a job!

  Chapter 21

  SAMANTHA

  “I had a new idea for our comic strip,” Romeo said as we walked across campus toward the Student Center and The Wombat staff meeting at Toasted Roast. Although the weather had become quite warm for early spring, Romeo wore his elaborate burgundy steampunk coat with the black cuffs and collar, and his pointy, silver tipped black leather shoes. His monocle dangled in rhythm with his stride.

  “What was your idea?” I asked.

  “Tampon Tammy! She shoots giant tampons from her stinky skunk trunk while fighting the forces of evil.”

  “You don’t mean Tammy Lemons, that bitchy girl at the last staff meeting? The one with the hipster glasses?”

  “I totally mean her,” Romeo said conspiratorially.

  “Oh, Romeo, we can’t do that. She’ll hate us more than she already does.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” he sighed. “But if she’s a bitch today at the meeting, I’m totally going to propose the idea to everyone.”

  “Please don’t,” I begged.

  “Please don’t what?” Justin Tomlinson said, falling into step with us.

  “Hey, Justin,” I smiled nervously. I hoped he hadn’t heard Romeo’s idea.

  “I was just telling Sam—” Romeo blurted.

  I cut him off, “How much fun we’ve been having working on ideas for The Wombat.”

  Justin frowned, “How does that follow from ‘Please don’t’?”

  “Uhhh…” I stammered.

  “Please don’t tell Justin how awesome he is for letting us sit in with you guys,” Romeo said, saving me.

  Justin smiled and nodded as we walked down the stairs running beside the stepped fountain that led down to the Student Center quad. “Thanks. You guys are both pretty awesome yourselves. Most everybody loves what you guys are coming up with.”

  “Most everybody?” Romeo asked.

  I shot Romeo a “shut the fuck up” glare. I knew he was thinking of Tammy.

  “Well, I just meant that…” Justin sounded put on the spot.

  “We know what you meant,” I smiled.

  The three of us walked up to the two tables already occupied by Keith, Micah, Alyssa, and Tammy.

  “Hey guys,” Justin said, lowering his book bag onto the table top as we all sat down.

  “Well, if it isn’t Romiet and Julio,” Tammy Lemons sniveled.

  Great. Maybe Romeo had been right. Was Tammy saying I was mannish by calling me Julio?

  Romeo arched an eyebrow at me, then turned to Justin, “Justin, I have a great idea for a new comic strip. Want to hear about it?”

  Gulp.

  “Let’s hear it,” Keith smiled.

  “Well,” Romeo smiled a Cheshire grin, “it’s about OW!!”

  I had kicked Romeo’s shin under the table.

  “Ow?” Micah asked. “What’s that?”

  “Owl! I meant Owl!” Romeo said.

  “An owl?” Alyssa aske
d doubtfully.

  “Yes!” Romeo yelled. “It’s, uh, about Obie, the OB/GYN Owl! He’s a real hoot for the coot!”

  “Hoot for the coot?” Micah snickered.

  “And instead of figuring out how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, he figures out how many licks it takes to make Tootsie, as played by Dustin Hoffman in the movie of the same name, get off! Get it? Tootsie Pop?”

  “Dude, how high are you?” underbeard Keith asked with an amazed grin on his face.

  “I want to smoke whatever he’s been smoking,” emo Micah smiled.

  “I have to admit,” Justin grinned at Romeo, “it has potential.”

  “Potential to suck,” Tammy sneered.

  Wow, Tammy was sourballs.

  “I have another idea,” Romeo said, glaring at Tammy.

  “Let’s hear it,” Micah said.

  “It’s called Tah—HEY!”

  I had kicked him under the table again.

  “Tah-HEY?” Keith asked. “I can’t wait to hear where he goes with this one.”

  “Yeah, Romeo,” I growled, “I can’t wait either.” The last thing I wanted to do was make things with Tammy worse. I already had Tiffany on my case. I didn’t need Tammy too.

  Romeo shook his head and glared at me, “I tah-hotally forgot.”

  “All right,” Justin said, “maybe it will come back to you later. I wanted to tell everyone that I’ve finally got all the votes back for our new Wombat mascot artwork. It was a close race.” He pulled two pieces of paper out of his book bag and set them on the table side by side. One was a copy of one of my drawings of the Wombat. And the other, wow, the other was really good.

  It showed a wombat holding a baseball bat over one shoulder. The bat was cracked in half and the big end dangled from the handle by a sliver. In the wombat’s other hand was a huge beer mug with foam frothing out the top of the glass. He had the SDU logo branded into his chest fur like on cattle. Next to him was a man lying on the ground, knocked out cold. He was obviously a professor because there was a chalkboard with chemistry equations on it behind him and a piece of chalk sticking out of one hand and an eraser in the other. A huge lump rose up from his forehead and cartoon birds circled it with musical notes coming out of their mouths like they were chirping.

  It was fantastic, even if Tammy had drawn it.

  “And the winner is—” Justin said.

  Tammy? I was totally sure she had won. I would’ve picked hers over mine.

  Micah drummed the table with his fingertips.

  “—Samantha!” Justin finished.

  What?

  “Congratulations, Sam!” Romeo said.

  Tammy folded her arms across her chest and scowled.

  Romeo gave her a snooty look.

  “Romeo,” I whispered, “don’t.”

  Justin smiled, “We all loved your art, Tammy, but most of us agreed we’d never get it past administration. Violence to SDU professors is not their favorite subject matter.”

  Tammy frowned, “Getting stoned while taking a dump is?” She was referring to my drawing.

  Justin shrugged his shoulders, “The vote still went to Samantha.”

  Tammy rolled her eyes, “Whatever.”

  “Samantha,” Justin said, “your drawing will now be on the front cover of the next issue of The Wombat. It’ll also go at the top of our webpage. Everyone is going to see it.”

  “What?” I smiled. I couldn’t believe it. I really hoped Justin hadn’t rigged the vote because he was into me, because Tammy’s art was truly incredible.

  “We loved your art,” Alyssa said to me.

  “Yeah, a bunch of the other staff were bonkers for your drawing of Potty,” Keith smiled.

  “I think we should make T shirts that say ‘Potty for President’,” Micah grinned.

  Tammy’s mouth sagged with disgust.

  It was hard to enjoy my victory when it came at the expense of someone else. I wanted to tell Tammy I was sorry, but somehow that seemed inconsiderate. “Tammy, I really like your drawing. It’s really good.”

  She spat, “So why don’t you withdraw yours and we’ll use mine?”

  I opened my mouth, wanting to say something supportive, but couldn’t think of anything. I closed it in frustration.

  “Maybe we should open the vote up to the readers?” Alyssa suggested tentatively.

  Keith and Micah gave noncommittal shrugs.

  Justin nodded thoughtfully, “If we can get administration to approve Tammy’s art, I don’t see why not?”

  A smug smile curled across Tammy’s lips.

  Wow, way for her to steal my thunder. Maybe me and Romeo needed to write the Tampon Tammy comic strip after all. I would make the character look exactly like her so no one would wonder who it was supposed to be about. She totally had the face of a vajay-jay.

  Groanballs.

  ===

  “Do I get to have a closed set,” I asked Christos, “like they do in the movies when they’re shooting a sex scene?” I stood in my bathrobe in our painting studio. Which I thought of as ours all the time now, even though Spiridon owned the house.

  “We’re not shooting a sex scene,” Christos smirked, “unless you want to. I can record video on my phone…” he said suggestively.

  “No! Posing nude is about all I can manage. By the way, do we have to have the curtains open?” Not that I’d ever seen any curtains in the studio. The tall windows along both walls faced the backyard. Yeah, they needed curtains.

  “I need the natural light coming in. It’s more flattering than using studio lights.”

  “Speaking of,” I said, “can you Photoshop me with your painting?”

  “You mean hide all your imperfections?”

  “Yeah,” I said hopefully.

  “No,” he said with finality.

  “Why not?” I frowned.

  “Because you don’t have any,” he flashed his dimpled grin.

  “Oh,” I smiled. “Well, can you at least give me more of a crotch notch?”

  “A what?”

  “You know that gap between a woman’s legs that’s all the rage right now?”

  “You mean a thigh gap?”

  “Yeah!”

  He shook his head, “You have a crotch notch.”

  “No I don’t!”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Have you looked in a mirror lately?”

  I frowned, “Well, can you make it bigger? I really want to sell it.”

  “Are you listening to yourself?” he asked, irritated.

  “What? I want a huge crotch notch.”

  He arched his other eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes! I hate how my thighs touch together.

  “Every woman’s thighs touch together to some degree.”

  “But mine touch more than normal.”

  “No they don’t,” he argued patiently.

  Why was I being so picky and neurotic? Oh yeah, because Christos was going to paint me nude for the world to see. Can you blame a girl for wanting to look her best?

  “Fine. I can make you look like you have sticks for legs, if that’s your preference.”

  “Huh?”

  “Your crotch notch is fine. I love it. No one is going to criticize my painting for having an underwhelming crotch notch. Besides, the way I’m going to pose you, no one is going to be able to tell what kind of crotch notch you have. They won’t even be able to see your crotch.”

  “What? Why not?” I demanded.

  “Because I’m going to make you hold a horned Viking helmet over it,” he smirked.

  “What? That sounds horrid!”

  “Hey, the helmet was your idea.”

  “But not over my crotch notch!”

  He rolled his eyes and smiled his dimpled grin. “Are you trying to make me insane?”

  “No, I, uh. I don’t know,” I sighed.

  “You told me to figure out a way to make the Viking helmet work. That’s my solution,” he smirked.
“Be careful what you wish for.”

  “I don’t want a helmet over my lady bits, that’s for sure,” I chuckled. I sighed, “Gosh, what is it with the thigh gap, anyway? It’s like it didn’t exist a few years ago.”

  “Blame it on stretch pants, booty shorts, and crotch selfies. It was bound to happen sooner or later. Once that pussy cat was out of the bag, it was never going back,” he grinned.

  “I wonder if women who wore Poodle skirts back in the day had to worry about having a crotch notch?” I asked thoughtfully.

  “Nope. All they had to worry about was whether or not their poodle was as big as the next girl’s.”

  “Are you saying it used to be the woman with the biggest poodle won? And now it’s the notchiest crotch?”

  “Sad, isn’t it?” Christos said ironically. “So, are we going to paint your portrait, or do you want to obsess about your non-existent imperfections for awhile longer?”

  I wrinkled my nose at him sarcastically.

  “We don’t have to do this,” he said, “I can always paint you with clothes on. It’s up to you.”

  “Really?”

  He nodded, “But I think you’d be making a big mistake. I’d hate to think you missed the chance at being the world’s most famous nude portrait. Because that’s what I’m aiming for.”

  “Oh.” I definitely liked the sound of that.

  “Imagine,” he grinned, “a work crew of guys wheeling your painting into The Louvre, taking down the Mona Lisa, and hanging your portrait up in its place.”

  I smiled, “That could work.”

  He chuckled, “Yes it could. Then The Louvre would finally have an impressive painting instead of that tiny little Mona Lisa.”

  “You sure are cocky,” I said.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No. Jerk,” I swatted his arm.

  “Okay, strip.”

  “Mmmm. I like it when you tell me what to do.”

  “Good,” he smirked his sexy grin.

  I dropped my robe to the ground. “Do with me what you will…” I purred.

  Of course, we had sex in the studio.

  Spiridon had left for the afternoon so I could feel like I had some privacy while I posed nude.

  Christos and I had sex on the dais all the other models had sat on before me. I didn’t ask Christos if he’d had sex on it, because it was possible he had, with Perfect Paisley or someone else from his past. All I knew was I was queen of this domain now, bitches! Oh, and I made him put down clean blankets first. Just in case.