Clipped Wings by Helena Hunting

Chris always sought Damen’s approval, like he was some messed-up version of a father figure. I supposed that in a lot of ways Damen assumed that role for Chris when we worked for him years ago. From what I understood, he took Chris in when his parents would no longer deal with his antics. Damen’s accommodations had turned out to be more of a den of iniquity, but Chris hadn’t been in much of a position to complain. Not that he had. Chris hadn’t seen his own family in years, and Damen was a master at exploiting insecurities. When it had come to Chris, he’d heaped on the praise, knowing how little it took to gain Chris’s loyalty and lead him astray. Chris was a talented artist, but sometimes he lacked common sense, and that got him into trouble.
    Even back when I was a kid, barely eighteen and working my first job at Art Addicts as a piercer, I never fell for Damen’s bullshit. Sure, I took advantage of the drugs and the access to women, but that was where it ended. I hadn’t needed his approval. Which was why, after three years of dealing with him and all the crap that had come with him, I’d gotten out. I hadn’t done it on my own, though; Jamie had been the driving force, and Chris had come along for the ride. If I hadn’t escaped the drugs, I would have OD’d at some point.
    Damen reclined in his chair, looking like he owned the place. His black hair was slicked back, his receding hairline pronounced. His aquiline nose and vicious smile made him look like the vulture he was.
    “Hayden, it’s good to see you. I was telling Chris the last time he was here he should bring you by. You here for the women, or are you looking to do business?”
    “Chris is here for the women. I’m here to ruin his night.” I swished my beer around in my glass.
    Damen had been hounding Chris about merging studios for a long time. I adamantly refused the offer. Damen had a hard time keeping artists at his shop. I’d witnessed the slow decline as they got hooked on blow, or whatever else he was selling, until performing their actual job became a challenge. I’d been at risk of going down the same path at one point. I had no intention of being dragged back into his bullshit crooked dealings. I ran a clean shop, made legitimate money, and served no one’s interests but my own. Partnering up with Damen would mean bending to someone else’s whims. Chris was too caught up in keeping things amicable to say no outright, so he always pussyfooted around an answer.
    “You seem a little tense. I think I’ve got exactly what you need to relax.” Damen slipped his hand inside his jacket and discreetly pulled out a small baggie. It looked like coke was the drug of choice tonight.
    “I’m good with the beer.” I held up the almost-empty glass.
    After offering it to Chris, who declined, Damen slid the baggie back into his pocket.
    “Maybe you need a different kind of relaxation?”
    Damen raised his hand in the air and a tiny brunette rushed over. The bra she wore didn’t even cover her nipples, and her skirt could have doubled as a headband, with the way her ass was hanging out the back. He beckoned her closer and said something in her ear. Her eyes moved over me, then back to him, whispering so we couldn’t hear. He laughed and slapped her ass, leaving a palm print behind as she scurried away. He was such a cocksucker.
    “From what I’ve just been told, Sienna’s still interested. I’m sure she’d be more than willing to help you out,” he said.
    I wanted to punch Damen’s ugly grin off his face, but I didn’t. I snorted into my glass. “Not likely.”
    He shrugged, like it didn’t matter either way, and turned to Chris, done talking to me for the time being. “Candy’s back.”
    “I thought she moved on.” For a brief moment Chris’s apathy was replaced with concern. He’d had a thing for Candy back in the day. It was probably the closest he’d ever been to a relationship, if one could call it that. She was a