Celia sat before a large canvas, a thin brush trapped between her fingers. Blue paint swept gently against a trail of pink, blending into soft streaks beneath the warm light of her art studio. She rinsed the brush in cloudy water and reached for another color when her phone vibrated loudly against the table.
Her eyes narrowed at the caller ID.
Vivica, with a string of hearts.
Celia ignored it and continued painting.
The phone rang again. Then again.
With an irritated hiss, she snatched it up. “What?”
“Celia, I need your help.” Vivica’s voice came out rushed and desperate.
Celia scoffed. “You need my help? What happened to Elena? Isn’t she all you need?”
“Elena can’t help me.”
“Oh. You finally realized that.” Celia ended the call reached for the brush.
The phone rang almost immed
