Chapter 6 Your Image

"Oh, come on! I just saved your life back there! Don't you think at least a 'thank you' is in order?" Mike wheedled. He waggled his eyebrows playfully at her.

Tasha shrugged. "You had a deal with Luna," she pointed out flatly. "So I'll reserve my gratitude for her."

"Hold on, how did you know about that?" Mike asked, startled. They didn't talk much on the way. How did she know it was Luna who asked him to save her?

Tasha just gave him a tight smile in response, turned around and continued to walk inside.

Mike pouted at her retreating figure. Luna already gave him a hard time as it is. The last thing he needed was grief from her difficult friends, too.

Tasha went into the apartment, completely oblivious to Mike's grumbling. What he thought didn't really matter to her.

She could never be bothered with fickle men.

She came home to Luna on the sofa, calmly watching TV. When she saw Tasha coming in, she raised a perfect brow, gave her a once-over, and smiled. "It wasn't so bad, I take it? You're still alive."

Tasha chuckled. "Well, if I died so easily, I wouldn't have survived five years ago." She flashed Luna a warm smile of appreciation. She was nothing but grateful to Luna for asking Mike to save her. She owed her one.

But members of the S Group weren't prone to thanking each other out loud, or being showy with their emotion.

Luna titled her head in acknowledgement. "You make a fine point." With Tasha home safely, Luna could finally relax. She turned off the television, pulled off the thin blanket off her, got up from the sofa, and started heading upstairs. "I'm going to take a nap," she announced as she climbed up the stairs.

"A nap? What are you, a cat?" Tasha teased with a grin. But she knew with her high energy, Luna only ever needed one or two hours of shuteye each day. It couldn't be properly called sleep, the way normal people slumbered.

Luna turned her head slightly and smiled, as she continued walking into her room. "If only. At least I would have nine lives."

Tasha couldn't argue with that.

Tasha headed in too, soon after. She walked into the bedroom to find Edison still asleep. She immediately checked if he was alright, though she knew Luna would have already made sure. Noting Edison was safe albeit tranquilized, she let out a deep sigh of relief.

She headed into the bathroom to wash up. Standing in front of the mirror, she raised her hand to her delicate neck, touching the obvious bruises there from where John strangled her earlier.

She smiled bitterly, still hoping despite herself that her theories about him were wrong.

Edison woke up the next morning feeling completely normal, unaware of what happened last night and thinking he just fell asleep naturally. Tasha had decided not to tell him anything, afraid such a young child would start worrying again.

Try as she might, however, she couldn't conceal the bruises on her wrists and neck with makeup. So she made do with a silk scarf around her neck and a long-sleeved casual coat as cover up.

As soon as Edison spotted her as he sat down for breakfast, he scowled.

"Mommy, what are you wearing? You're a famous model. You should look like it. You're going to embarrass Aunt Luna."

Tasha pouted. "What, I can't wear the clothes I want at home?" She already had to put on such a facade outside. Did she have to work so hard in private, too?

Edison rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're tired of keeping up your image, you should just quit," he grumbled.

"I already begged you to stop modelling before, but you insisted on doing it.

So I guess you get what you ask for," the little boy said crossly.

Tasha felt affronted with her son's words. She crossed her arms and fixed him a firm look. "Is that any way to talk to your mom?"