Sure enough, Matt’s name lit up the screen as I turned it over.
And he’d already prepared for a video call.
I answered, propping my phone up against a can of turpentine before I waved at him and signed out, “Can’t hear you. Is A.S.L. okay?”
He nodded and shifted the camera around until I could see his hands in the frame. “Your curator called Mom. She says you haven’t been responding about your new show. Is everything okay?”
Shit. Carissa had called Mom? Was I so far behind that my mother had to get involved? How the hell had she gotten my mother’s number?
“Nothing I can’t handle. Carissa’s just pissed I’m not currently making her gallery money.”
It hadn’t even been that long since my last opening night. A few months, plenty of sales… and the promise of more to come. Only, nothing more was coming. I couldn’t find the inspiration, couldn’t find a common thread to draw on.
“Why don’t you get away for a while? Come out to L.A., hang out with me and your nephew, and disconnect for a while. Maybe a change of scenery, some warm air would do you good. It’s not like you’ve ever been really happy in the cold air of New York.”
I chewed on my lip, keeping my hands low and out of the camera’s view, pondering the offer. It would’ve been nice to get away from the cold for a while, but I couldn’t exactly take over his apartment with art supplies. Not with Derrick already taking up so much room in their lives. And hanging out with a baby, even one as perfect as my nephew, made me nervous. I wasn’t sure how well I’d do, not being able to hear when he needed something, or worse, dealing with the sudden, jarring sound of shrieking cries.
I didn’t know which would be worse, and without a lot of experience with babies, even ones that were just over a year old, I waffled.
Matt’s expression grew a little more pleading as his hands moved in front of the screen. “Come on, Gio. Don’t make me pull the big brother card on you.”
I let out a little breath and then signed. “Okay, I’ll look at flights. But I’m not making any promises. And I might opt to get a hotel room. I don’t want to get in the way of you and your family.”
“Dude, they’re your family too. But it’ll just be nice to see you. And it might help get you out of your painting funk.”
I frowned. “I never said I was in a painting funk.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “I know you, Gio. You’re having trouble painting.”
“Fine.” I smirked at him as Hayley walked into the shot behind him, a sleeping baby draped over her shoulder.
I had to admit, as much as I was intimidated to hang out with kids, Matt and Hayley made it look easy. Hell, so did Chuck and Aubrey. Even Rachel managed it all on her own. But then, they didn’t have the added trouble of not being able to hear their own kid if they cried. They didn’t have to worry about grabby little sticky fingers trying to pull away their lifeline to the world, to one of the senses that most people just took for granted.
I ended the call and sent a text to Carissa.
Gio: You don’t have to tattle to my mother when I’m not doing my job. I know I need to get you a date for my new show.
As I waited for her response, I pulled up the internet app and booked a flight and hotel for the next week. I couldn’t guarantee it would help with my lack of inspiration, but at least I could use it as an excuse to get away from Carissa breathing fire down my neck as she constantly harassed me for more. More art. More information. More, more, more.
If only I could paint a series of Gallery Curator as Fire-breathing Dragons. I’d probably make millions, with only Carissa as inspiration.
Of course, there was no way she’d sell them.
When my phone lit up again, I quickly scanned the text.
Carissa: I’m only asking because your fans want more of your work. When I couldn’t get ahold of you, I worried.
What a steaming pile of bullshit. But I bit back the urge to respond with poop emojis.
Gio: Schedule the show opening for April 22. I’ll have something together by then.
If I found a muse, it wouldn’t take me any time at all to create the pieces she’d need in the couple of months I had before now and then. And if I didn’t, my career could die in obscurity. Hell, maybe I’d be able to find inspiration again once no one cared if I created or not.
Without waiting for Carissa’s response, I texted Matt.
Gio: Okay, you win. Tickets are booked, and I got a room not too far from your house, but right on the beach. See you Monday, brother.
I had a couple days before I needed to be on a plane, but I had more than enough to keep me busy before I had to be airborne. And, I needed to charge the batteries on my hearing aids, if I wanted any hope of being able to function like a normal person for the trip. Airports, taxis, restaurants—everything was harder to navigate without the ability to hear.
Matt was waiting near baggage claim in LAX. The man was one of the best sports agents around. Usually, he was dressed in khakis or suit pants and usually a polo or button up, but he’d relaxed since he’d gotten together with Hayley. He seemed more comfortable and relaxed in life. I used to feel that way when art came easily. When I was constantly washing out my paint brushes or my fingers were smearing chalk or pastels. Lately, I didn’t feel relaxed.
I gave him a quick hug before I pulled away, making sure we were face to face before I said, “You didn’t have to pick me up.”
“Nonsense.” He winked at me. “I needed an excuse to get out of the house, anyway. Derrick’s been a little feverish, so he’s been fussy and only Hayles seems to be able to calm him down.” He nodded at the exit. “I figured we’d grab a drink, catch up, and then take dinner home to relieve her from baby duty.”
As soon as we were enclosed in his car, I let out a small sigh of relief, and settled back in the seat. Airports always wreaked havoc with my hearing devices, with the ambient noise of thousands upon thousands of travelers, and places like LAX and LaGuardia were the worst, with so many different languages added to the mix.
“Okay, can you repeat what you said about Derrick? I only caught about half of it, and you kind of mumble.” Lip reading only ever got me so far, and Matt had a bad habit of not enunciating his words. He’d at least broken the habit of looking away from me when he spoke.
He signed, “He’s sick with a fever. Hayley’s taking care of him.”
I tapped the external part of my implant, the device mostly covered by my longish hair, and smirked. “I can hear you now. It was just too loud in there.” I grinned. “And did you say something about drinks?”
“I did. But we don’t have to. This trip is about relaxing and having fun, loosen up your muse or whatever you artists say.”
I hated how easily all my siblings catered to my hearing loss. Too often, we’d skip something, or take stuff home, so that they didn’t have to worry about me being able to hear. It was one of the biggest reasons I jumped at the chance to get the implants in the first place; I wanted to be as normal as possible. I wanted to fit in with the crazy, oversized Wrights family. It was also why I would turn them off in the middle of the gatherings to tune out the chaos when I wanted to. My mother didn’t seem to appreciate that, but I didn’t appreciate everyone acting like I was helpless child, especially since I was a grown fucking man.
“We can go out for a while, as long as it’s not a sports bar.”
“I know just the place.” He started the car up and then said, “What hotel are you staying at?”
I gave him the info, and soon I was checked into my room and we were on our way out again. Before we made it out of the front doors, I stopped and blatantly gaped the woman moving toward the elevators. The way her hips swayed caught my eyes first. Each swish of her curvy, wide hips and ass were like a metronome, moving to a beat only she could hear, but it was hypnotic and definitely a vision I’d replay happily in my head.
Her eyes were covered by oversized black sunglasses, and her long, wavy b
rown hair hung down in soft curls, held back from her face with a checkered scarf, revealing soft, full pink lips and a slightly upturned nose.
“Earth to Gio.” Matt tapped me on the shoulder, breaking the vixen’s spell just as the doors opened and she stepped inside, accompanied by a bellhop and three other people, one of whom was clearly a hotel employee, and the other two were staring googley-eyed at each other.
“Sorry. Got distracted.” Matt would hardly understand the call to follow the siren anywhere she went, just for the chance to be close to her. But if she was just getting to the hotel, maybe I’d have my chance again before I left. Maybe that curvy, full bodied beauty would be the muse I’d been missing, the one I needed to find my creativity again, the one who would open my eyes to new things.
“Are you sure you’re up for going out? We could just grab a six-pack and hang out in your room for a while. Or on my balcony back at the apartment.”
“Dude, I’m not a shut-in agoraphobic. I can go out in public places. I’ve been doing it all my life.” I pushed past him, out into the warm afternoon sun of Los Angeles, and headed to the car, knowing he’d be just a few steps behind.
It was one of the reasons I’d moved to New York. I didn’t need any of my twelve siblings keeping an eye on me, and I didn’t need to be coddled like Matt’s baby.
Not that it ever felt like any of them believed that. Sometimes the Wrights cared too much and got too involved.
The bar we ended up at was perfect. I wasn’t sure “bar” was the right term for it, but it had a huge outdoor patio area with corn hole and Jenga made from 2x4s. It wasn’t crowded yet, but I had no doubt that as it got later, the patio would fill up under the large string lights stretching from one side to the other in a zigzag pattern.
Rather than a table, we settled on patio furniture around a turned-off fire pit with our drinks. Matt had an amber beer, but I opted for a dark stout.
Matt lifted his bottle toward me. “You want to tell me what’s been going on?”
Straight to the point, just like always. Matt never beat around the bush with me. With any of the siblings, really, although he’d always managed to talk to each one of us differently, like he knew the best angles to approach each of his siblings. I had no doubt he’d do the same with his kids, once he and Hayley inevitably had more than just Derrick to chase after.
“There’s not much to tell. I was working well. Had a great show opening just before Valentine’s Day, and then nothing. No matter what I try, I can’t seem to put anything worthwhile onto canvas. It’s all crap.”
Matt took a thoughtful pull of his drink. “What else changed?”
“Nothing.” That was the problem. I was an artist. I saw beauty in the world. And my routine had become a rut. The sort of deep, heavy ditch that was hard to dig my way out of. “It’s just not there anymore. I don’t know how to get it back.”
“Maybe you’re trying too hard. When you’re creating, when you’re inspired, nothing can keep you from a canvas. It would’ve been like pulling teeth to get you to come out here.”
I shrugged. “I figured it couldn’t hurt. A change of scenery. No paints or canvas to even try to work on.” I did bring a few sketchbooks, my favorite pencils, and both a digital and a film camera, just in case I found something worthy of my artistic eye.
Something like the woman from the lobby. My fingers twitched at the idea of tracing her curves…onto a canvas.
“You’ve got that look in your eye again. The same one you had in the hotel. What’s got you looking like Chuck when he’s daydreaming about Aubrey?”
I glanced around the patio, wishing she’d somehow show up here, if for no other reason than wanting to see her again, to make sure she wasn’t just a figment of my imagination. “It’s probably nothing. I saw beauty in the lobby, and I was just thinking about her.”
“Her? Is my little brother in love?”
I laughed. “I don’t even know her. I am not in love. But I wouldn’t mind getting her to sit for me.” Naked, if I could somehow convince her of it.
If I even saw her again.
“Is that artist code for sleeping with her?”
Rolling my eyes, I took a long swig of my beer before I signed playfully, “I can draw her and then fuck her, you jerk.”
Honestly, even though there were plenty of artists I knew who were more than happy to bed their muses, I had never been one of them. I kept my art and my love life separate.
But for this woman, I might’ve been willing to make an exception.
“Hayley, you look more lovely every time I see you. You’re far too good for my brother.” I pulled her into a gentle hug before I stepped back again and looked her over.
She giggled and shook her head. “Oh, trust me, he knows it.” She headed over and picked up her fussy son and carried him back over. “Derrick, do you remember your uncle Gio?”
“Hey, little man.” The kid looked at me with his big brown eyes that looked a lot like Hayley’s, seeming unsure of me. “He’s getting so big.”
Matt set the to-go bags of food down on their kitchen table and walked over to wrap his arms around both his wife and son in one warm embrace. “He’s going to be tall, like his father.”
She shook her head. “Hopefully, he doesn’t inherit your cocky attitude, Matthew.”
“You love my cocky attitude.”
She kissed his cheek before she wandered into the kitchen.
While she settled Derrick into a high chair and started going through the take-out containers, I looked around their apartment for the best vantage point, the best place where I’d be able to hear both of them, and keep an eye on their mouths just in case I missed something.
When we all settled at the table, we fell into an easy conversation, occasionally slipping into sign language when mouths were full or when there were words that Derrick didn’t need to hear. It was comfortable. Easy. Family. And it was something that I desperately missed when none of my family was around. Even with all the independence I’d fought hard to earn, I couldn’t help but feel the desire to fall right back into the same habits, the same reliance on my oldest brother, any time we were all together.
By the time Matt drove me back to the hotel, I was a little drunk, and my mind kept wandering to the woman from the lobby.
The woman I really wanted to pull me out of my creative slump.
3
Helena
My phone alarm went off way too early.
I was hardly surprised that Daphne never called to get dinner, or that I’d been alone all night. It seemed to be the status quo any time Daphne was with Marcus. Not that I could blame her. If I had a man who loved me the way Marcus worshiped her, I probably wouldn’t want anything to come between me and him either.
But it meant that I was alone, in a city I hardly knew, on a vacation that I didn’t really have time or money to take.
And after the dress appointment this afternoon, I figured I’d be on my own again.
Rather than mope in my hotel room, though, I pulled on my swimsuit and a sundress and headed for the elevator, oversized hat and cat-eye sunglasses in hand. If I was going to be stuck here, basically alone, the least I could do was enjoy the ocean, the sun, and maybe dive into one of the hundreds of books on my to-be-read pile. It only ever got bigger.
I wandered through the lobby of the hotel, internally debating whether I should seek out the private cabana, or if I should just try to find a spot on the sand. It felt strange, taking advantage of Marcus’s generosity, especially without Daphne and Marcus. Practicality won out, as the sun was already hot overhead.
I settled on a lounge chair near the front of the tent, just in the sun enough that I could hopefully get a little color without worrying about burning. Almost as soon as I sat down, a hotel employee in starched white shorts and a peach colored polo came up with a small tray in hand and a smile permanently affixed on his face. “Ms. Stratton, good morning. Will you be needing anything to start your day?
”
I pursed my lips and decided to just go for it. I ordered breakfast, coffee, and even a mimosa. It was indulgent, too much, really, but if I was in for a penny, I was in for a pound.
And I had plenty of pounds to go in on.
The sound of the beach was calming as I pulled up a steamy romance on my e-reader and pulled off my dress, getting into the spirit of the day. I pushed aside thoughts of the work that still needed to be done, or the fact that people could see me, see my thick, cellulite thighs, the jiggle of extra fat under my arms.
As far as anyone knew, in my hat and sunglasses, I could’ve been a celebrity, royalty, something far more chic than just a girl who ran a kitschy vintage store in Austin, Texas. And with a mimosa in one hand and my book in the other, I was more than happy to just get lost in the fantasy of it all.
It was midday before I decided to dip my toes into the water.
I closed my e-reader and set it on the table next to my lounge chair, along with my third mimosa for the day. My gaze fell upon a man sitting not far from me and he stole my breath, thoughts, and my heart thumped erratically.
His dark hair, longer and unkempt like he was a rebel, was pulled back in a messy bun. Not like a hipster, like he just wanted it out of his face. The sun glinted over his sexy, sweaty tawny skin that left me wanting to lick him, taste him.
It seemed like he was watching me.
No, not watching me. His eyes kept flicking down to the pad of paper on his lap to where his hand moved quickly over the page.
Was he drawing me?
God, I must’ve gotten way too involved in my book. I was hallucinating. Fantasizing.
There was no way a guy who looked like that would be interested in drawing me. Or anything else for that matter. He was probably just sketching something nearby, something far more fascinating than me.
The Fiancé Agreement Page 2