Page 30 of Sinful as They Come (Sinful Trilogy #1)

SAWYER

A tired sigh left my mouth as I leaned back against the headrest of my truck. Work had been exhausting as usual. At least it paid the bills.

I had picked up some dinner for me and Brodie after my shift. Just some wings and fries – nothing special – but it was more than enough for me and my cousin. Dad could get his own dinner.

I placed the bag of food in the passenger’s seat, just about to turn the engine on when I heard my phone ring. Pulling it out of my pocket, my eyebrows furrowed at the number I didn’t recognize.

“Yeah?” I answered, running a hand through my hair. It was getting longer and longer.

“Hello!” Whoever it was sounded like some old guy. “Is this, uh… Sawyer Westbrook?”

“Who’s this?” I asked bluntly.

“You don’t know me. My name is Eric Anderson. I was flicking through your school’s paper, The Chronicle. I saw an article in here about some of your art. Miss Sutton wrote it. I’m not sure if you know her well.”

I held back a laugh. “I might. Why?”

“Well, she wrote a rather interesting article about you regarding your art. And I quite like the photo she included of a piece you painted. Is it for sale?”

“For sale?” I repeated. I had almost forgotten about the whole article thing, only because Holly showing up at my place the other day had been on my mind more than anything else lately.

It wasn’t easy to forget her sometimes. Especially that afternoon.

It was the way she had taken care of me and listened to me that had me thinking of her.

We had yet another heart-to-heart conversation where I probably said too much to her.

“Yes. I love it. It’s a fantastic piece. Do you have anything else for sale? Or maybe you take commissions?”

It sounded like a joke. A cruel, shitty joke. The man’s words had me rubbing at the back of my neck and scanning outside my window like I was gonna see him standing out there with a grin on his face.

“You wanna buy my shit?” I asked cautiously.

“Well, that’s not the word I would use. But yes. I want to buy your painting. Just name your price.”

No one had ever bought my art before. It still felt like a joke, though. It was such a simple painting too. All I had done was paint Alden Lake: the water, the bright sun, the comforting blue sky. That night lingered in my mind. It was another Holly related thing that was hard to forget.

“Six hundred,” I said confidently. “And you gotta pay in cash.”

“Amazing. Do you know where Highland Park is? I live there. If you could maybe drop it off, I’ll be happy to pay you tonight.”

Unfortunately, I was familiar with the place thanks to Holly.

I still wasn’t sure if the guy was being serious or if it was some shitty prank, but there was only one way to find out.

If he was willing to fork over six hundred bucks for one of my stupid paintings, then I was willing to take the risk.

“Yeah, I know it.” I huffed. “Text me your address. I’ll be there in thirty.”

I left Marve’s behind, wondering what the hell I was getting myself in to. All I wanted was that cash. I made a quick pit stop at my place, leaving the food for Brodie to chow down on. He promised me he’d leave me some wings for when I got back. Dad was nowhere to be seen thankfully.

I told Brodie I had some errands to run before I grabbed the painting and made the drive up to Highland Park. Once I got there I instantly noticed how quiet it was. It was always fucking quiet. There was no way any of them could have handled one night at the trailer park.

I turned a few corners, rolling my eyes at the obnoxiously large houses before I finally found the one that I was after.

It was, of course, a mansion. Just like Holly’s.

Just like all the other ones that surrounded me.

I pulled the canvas out of my backseat and jogged up the rest of the driveway.

It was either gonna be some rich guy with too much money to spend or Carter fucking with me or something.

Again, the money had me taking the risk.

Knocking on the door, I only had to wait a few seconds before some old guy opened up. He wore glasses, his white hair styled neatly. He was dressed up in a suit, looking like he had just come back from the office or something.

“This what you wanted?” I greeted him, holding up the canvas lazily.

“Oh, Sawyer. Come in, come in.” The man gestured for me to enter. “Let me see that.”

I loosely handed him the canvas, watching as his eyes seemed to scan every inch of it. He held it tight, shaking his head slowly before he looked at me.

“It’s wonderful. And to think you’re just in high school.” Eric smiled. “I take it you’ll be studying art in college, then?”

“No,” I said flatly.

“Oh. Right. Well, artists don’t always need school, right? I enjoyed your article in The Chronicle a lot. You and Holly are friends then?” Eric wondered.

All I wanted was my money. Were all art deals this annoying?

“We, uh, we have some classes together.” I nodded, shoving my hands into my pockets. “I see her around school… A lot.”

“It was quite an interesting article, wasn’t it?”

“I wouldn’t know.” I lifted up my eyebrows. I didn’t even know what the hell Holly wrote for that thing. “I haven’t read it.”

“Oh. You know, her father is actually a good friend of mine. The Sutton family only live down the road. Her father is here right now if you wanted to say hello. Joe, Holly’s friend is here!”

Jesus, fuck. Not him again. Seeing him at work was one thing. At least then I could try to avoid him .

“I should actually be heading on home.” I coughed, pointing a thumb at the door.

But before I could leave, and more importantly, before I could get my money, Holly’s dad appeared before me.

Fuckin’ Joe Sutton. He watched me closely, clearly scrutinizing me in his head before we made eye contact.

That was when he gave me the most obvious look of disgust that had ever been sent my way.

Well, maybe Holly’s looks of disgust were on par with his.

Could have been a genetic thing. Either way, it was like he knew something I didn’t, but I had a feeling he was about to tell me.

“Joe, this is Sawyer. Sawyer, this is Joe.” Eric gestured between us. “I’m buying some art off of Sawyer here. Look at this. Isn’t it wonderful?” He held up the canvas proudly.

“It’s great.” Joe’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“And to think young Sawyer here is selling it to me for only six hundred dollars. Oh, and I haven’t even paid you yet. I’m sorry.” Eric shook his head apologetically. He pushed a hand into his back pocket before sighing. “My wallet must be in my office. Do you mind?”

“No.” I coughed, very much aware of Holly’s dad’s gaze on me. “Not at all.”

Eric excused himself with my art, darting up the stairs. He was a nice guy. A little too excited, but nice. But why the fuck did he have to leave me alone with Holly’s dad?

“So, Sawyer,” Joe began once we were alone. “This is what you do when you’re not working at Marve’s. Or beating people up.”

“I’m good with my hands,” I murmured.

“I didn’t know you could paint.”

“A lot of people don’t.”

“You and my daughter must have been spending some time together then. She interviewed recently, right? For her paper?”

“Yeah, she was at my place the other day,” I couldn’t help but say. I just wanted to piss him off. He didn’t approve of me. That much was clear. Maybe it would be fun to take that further. “We had a little talk and all that. ”

Joe cleared his throat. “Did you now?”

I smiled at him. “Yeah. I mean we were supposed to meet up at the library, but I guess she just couldn’t resist coming over.”

“You don’t really seem like the type that Holly would normally hang out with. Even if it’s for her paper.”

“Well, she’s been in my life a lot lately. And not because I asked her to be. Feels like I can’t keep her away from me these days...”

“Well, you should be thankful then.”

“I don’t know if that’s the word I would use.” Jesus, where was Eric? I stared up at the top of the stairs, hoping he would just show up with my cash already.

“You just don’t seem to be the type she would surround herself with,” he said quickly.

My eyes narrowed. “Yeah, you already said that.”

“I’m just trying to make a point here.”

“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?”

He shrugged. “I looked you up the other day after I saw you at Marve’s. Being a lawyer gives me some pretty good connections. Sawyer Westbrook’s been in and out of juvie more times than I can count.”

I rolled my eyes at his bullshit. “You can’t count higher than three, huh?”

“You’ve got a record, kid. A long one. And a few other arrests you managed to sneak your way out of, but a few where that smart mouth wasn’t enough.

” He sounded so smug as he talked, a confident smile on his face as he stared me down.

“You’re bad news. I know what you’ve done, I know where you’re from.

Cedar Crest. Some shitty, old trailer park.

Coming out here must be like a vacation for you. ”

I chuckled darkly, making sure not to avert my gaze. He wanted trouble. He wanted a fight. And I’d take him down easily, no questions about it.

“What else did you find out about me? Huh?” I nodded at him. “What else is it about me that you wanna talk about? And if you wanna do more than talk, I can take care of that big fuckin’ mouth of yours after your friend gives me the money he owes me.”

He breathed in sharply. “I told you to stay away from my daughter, didn’t I? And you should be doing that. You should be staying away from her like I said."

“She came to me.” I stared at him seriously.

“Oh, please. You and my daughter make no sense. Even if this whole thing is for a school project. You definitely forced your way into her life.”

“Holly’s the last fucking person whose life I would force my way into.”