I wanted to learn.
As if Helen could read my mind, she piped up, “If you were hoping to get a job here so you could work with Mrs. Danes, it’ll never happen.”
My cheeks filled with heat as I slowly collected some brushes. “Does she not work in the gallery or something? I never see her.”
Helen shoved her arms through the sleeves of a flowery trench coat. Careful not to knock a single perfect chestnut hair out of place. Helen seemed like a plain Jane professional against Celadine’s colorful appearance. “She works nights, mostly. But she’s a very private person and works alone.” I watched her walk over to me as she dangled a set of keys in her hand. “So, I’d drop any notion you might have about working with her. We’ve had many temps over the years. None have stuck around, especially after they realized how inaccessible she is.”
“Oh.” I couldn’t hide the disappointment in my voice even if I tried.
Helen gave me a pitiful smile and handed me the keys. “I’ve got to go. I can’t stay late today. It’s my nephew’s birthday.”
“You want me to lock up?”
Helen shrugged. “I don’t see why not. You still have work to do. Plus, the showroom is where the valuables are, and it’s already locked.” She pointed at the exit. “Bolt the handles and enter the key code one seven five five two after you’ve left the building. Otherwise, you’ll be locked inside.”
I stuffed the keyring in my pocket. “I can do that.”
Helen said her goodbyes and headed out to her car in the parking lot. I watched her through the massive picture window that overlooked the front exterior before turning back to the mess left behind by the kids. Canvas and paints, and supplies littered the space. Tiny fingerprints coated the chairs and even the floor. Good thing we gave them water-based paints. Regardless, I’d still be there a while.
I wrangled my long crimson hair into a messy bun and set my phone down with a playlist of my favorite music filling the air as I worked. Wiping and tidying, and returning supplies to the storeroom. I held a still-wet canvas in each hand when I turned and accidentally knocked over a cup of black paint. Unable to catch it with my arms already full, I just watched and cringed as it smashed to the floor and splattered all over a drop cloth.
“Shit,” I muttered and set the canvases off to the side.
I thanked the heavens that most of it seemed to land on the drop cloth, but an image revealed itself as I tucked the corners in to contain the mess. A memory. Pulled from the string of nightmares that had plagued me during my first week in the city. I bent and, with a finger, smeared the blackness around, adding to the image. Finishing it. The way I remembered it. Until I recognized the shape of a bat-like wing stretched across the cloth. I put my weight on my legs as I tucked them underneath me and let myself get lost in the creation.
The hard and fast tempo of The Distillers played while I worked. Spreading and adding more paint, using all ten fingers as I filled the cloth with a collage of things; leafless trees, crooked branches, the blackness that had oozed from a gash on my arm–it wound around each shape, tethering them all together like a string of lights.
Then, lastly, a pair of horrifying eyes, so dark and deep and sinister, just staring back at me from the floor as I stood to take in the mess of art that just spewed from my fingers. I took a deep breath as if it cleansed me to have purged it physically.
It was… beautiful. In a strange and unnerving way. So unlike anything I usually painted. It reminded me of the striking work I’d seen on Maxine’s website.
“It’s a lovely piece,” spoke someone from behind. I spun with a startle. I hadn’t even heard the doors open. She stood there as if she’d always been hovering behind me. A navy silken kimono flowed to the floor, scarcely covering the skin-tight black jumper she wore underneath. She left her long braids and dreads down but half-tucked back at the nape of her neck.
“Celadine,” I said with a breath. I followed her gaze to the mess on the floor and was suddenly awash with embarrassment. “Oh, sorry! I’ll clean this up–”
“No need to apologize for making art in an art studio,” she said and waved it off. “That’s what the space is meant for, is it not?”
A tingle brushed my cheeks. “I suppose it is.”
Celadine tucked her tattooed hands behind her back as she studied the piece on the floor with a closer look. I held onto a breath as if it were a pillow. Waiting for her to speak, to say anything about it. Finally, she straightened and gave me a smile.
“I’m sorry for not being around during your first few weeks here at the gallery. My brother is in town, and I’m dealing with some… pressing matters.”
Disappointment fluttered in my gut. But I stomped it down. “Oh, no, that’s totally fine. I don’t expect… ” I sighed. “I… don’t know what I expected, actually.” Before she could comment, I added, “Is everything okay? With your brother?”
Her violet eyes flashed and then fell to the art on the floor again. “Yes. He’s a rep for the gallery. He travels all over, meets with clients. Artists. Makes deals overseas.” She heaved a sigh. “But he’s still my little brother and annoys me so.”
I loosened a chuckle. “I can relate. I’m an only child, but my best friend Julie… she’s like a sister.” I thought of how I’d landed the interview. “Annoying at times. A lot of times.”
Celadine’s face beamed with a genuine look of admiration. But it quickly changed back to something a little more unreadable. She pointed at the cloth on the floor. “What’s the subject?”
I stared down at it with her. A coldness filled my chest. “What haunts my dreams.”
The dark eyes drew me in again, urging me to pull the memory of the nightmares to the front of my mind. I shook it off and looked at my boss, whose striking stare raked me over. She tilted her head.
“Where did you say you came from again?”
Confused, I said, “I was raised by my aunt in the country. Out past Elmdale.”
“And your parents?”
I chewed at my lip. “They, uh, they… died. A long time ago.” To lighten the mood, I chortled. “I know. I’m a tragic YA heroine.”
Her body relaxed and leaned toward me. “I’m so very sorry. Do you remember them?”
“No,” I said and shook my head. “I was never given that luxury. They died when I was a baby. Um… ” I bit back tears. I wasn’t sure why they tickled my eyes; I never really cried for them before. “They were killed. Shot. Here in the city.”
She didn’t reply, and an awkward silence hung in the air. The only sound was music still playing from the tiny speaker on my phone.
Unable to stand the quiet, I began collecting more supplies. Fighting to ignore the way she lingered. Staring. Watching. Did she know how unsettling her presence was? Did she look at everyone like that? I took a tub of dirty brushes over to a large marble sink and began cleaning them. I could feel her stare at my back. I dared a glance over my shoulder and met her curious gaze as we exchanged an awkward smile.
“You know,” Celadine finally spoke. Her voice was like a cold purr. I shut off the tap, and half turned to face her. “I’m thinking about taking on an apprentice.” Hope blossomed in my chest as she sauntered around the mess and came toward me. “Someone to teach about the gallery, about art dealing.” Her sharp black eyebrows raised in wait. “I’d love for it to be you if you’re interested.”
“Me?”
“If you’re up for the task,” she replied with a grin.
I turned fully, watery paint dripping from my fingertips. “I am, yes, absolutely.”
“It’s a lot to take on,” she added with a faint warning.
I nodded quickly. “Okay.”
“Are you able, with school?”
“Yes.”
“Other commitments?”
My stomach clenched with anticipation. “I just have two obligatory evening shifts at a coffee shop each week.”
“I only work nights,” she replied warily.
She crossed her arms. “It’ll be nearly every night.”
I shrugged, trying to show it was no big deal. “I’m a night owl.”
Her purple eyes widened with satisfaction behind her large cat-eye frames, and she smiled as she held out a hand. “Then it’s a deal.” I stared at her fingers, covered in tattoos and chunky rings. This was it. This was what I’d been waiting for. I took her hand; cool and soft, just like before. Celadine’s grip firmed with a shake. “Apprentice.”
***
“I wish you could come home this weekend,” Tess pleaded on the other end of the call. I sat on the plushy couch, surrounded by pillows and comfy blankets as I tucked my sock feet underneath me.
“I’ll come for a visit soon,” I told her. “Promise. I’m just… I’m still settling into a routine here. And my weekends are pretty busy.”
A sigh crackled down the line. “How’s the new job going?”
“Good,” I replied. Butterflies swirled in my stomach. “I temp on the weekends and then apprentice with Celadine during the week.” I didn’t dare tell my overprotective aunt that I usually met up with my boss in the dark hours of the night. But my first week of apprenticing went better than anything I could have dreamed of, and I wanted nothing to damper that joy. “It’s just… everything is so new. I don’t want to ask for time off just yet.”
“You’re entitled to time off, Avery,” Tess said worriedly.
“Oh, I know. It’s not like that,” I assured my aunt. “Celadine’s great. She’s teaching me so much. And she works around my schedule with school and shifts at The Chocolate Kettle.” Something warmed in my chest at the thought of working with her. Celadine was… extraordinary. For someone so young, she was wise beyond her years. She knew just about everything there was to know about the art business. I wanted to live up to her expectations. “Just let me prove my worth to her first, then I’ll ask for time off and come home.”
Julie stepped into my view and waggled a bottle of wine with an eager expression. I rolled my eyes but nodded with a grin.
“Uh, Tess,” I said. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“Okay,” she replied. “Let me know when you can sneak away from your fabulous life and spend time with your dear ol’ aunt.”
I laughed. “I will. Promise.”
I ended the call and tossed my phone on the coffee table as Julie took a seat and filled two wine glasses with her homemade brew. She handed one to me.
“Is this what we are now?” I kidded and swished the wine around in my cup. “Two winos living alone in the city.”
Julie shrugged. “I wanna go out,” she said over the rim of her glass. She chugged back a large gulp before adding, “There’s a party on campus at my uni.”
I chewed at my lip as I twisted the stem of my glass between my fingers. “I dunno, Jules.”
“Oh, come on.” She lifted her feet and snugged them beneath her on the couch. “It’s one of the first nights your creepy boss hasn’t monopolized you.”
My eyes widened in mock disbelief. “You forced me to take the job!”
“No,” she said with a pointed tone. “I got you the janitor job, not the position under Celadine’s wing. That was all you.”
I grinned. “Yeah, I’m still not sure what it was I actually did to get that.”
“She clearly saw how fabulous you are.”
I gave her a look that said yeah, right, and sipped on my wine. I was getting used to the spicy aftertaste and the warm tingle it sparked all the way down my throat. “And she’s not creepy. Not once you get to know her.”
“I’m sure she is,” Julie said in a brush-off way and pushed off the couch. She set her glass down. “Come on, we’re going out.” She held up a finger before I could protest. “Av’, you moved to the city to shed that homebody life. You came here to start anew, to experience things, to become your own person–”
“Okay, okay!” I grumbled, but I couldn’t help grinning. I stood up next to her. “Let’s go.”
The city at night was a sight to behold. Not something to fear. During the day, the downtown streets bustled with businessmen and city workers. The occasional tourist came to experience the historical place during the off-season.
But at night… it came alive with lights and music and people walking the concrete. Entire streets lined with pubs and dance clubs, people popping in and out of them as they carried laughter around in their groups. The air hung heavy with the scent of hot dogs and pizza, wafting from open pizza joints and wandering food carts.
Downtown Halifax was an experience, a destination, separate from the rest of the city. Buskers played fiddles down on the boardwalk that lined the harbor, and the sounds drifted up a few streets to where Julie and I walked to the frat party.
I could hear the party before I saw it. As we rounded the last corner, we emerged onto Inglis Street, where a row of campus housing sat near the massive university just a few yards away. It was an old brownstone. Garbage littered the front lawn, and things hung from a tree. The walkway crunched beneath my Blundstones–bits of food and broken glass–as we made our way to the wide-open front entrance. I’d never gone to high school parties, not like Julie did. Tess never allowed it. The noise from inside spilled out onto the crowded veranda and clamored against my ears, and I held my breath as we stepped inside.
“New meat!” some guy called out and raised his beer with one hand as he pointed at us with the other. He wobbled backward and lost his hat as his buddies caught him.
I looked at Julie, but she beamed. She loved being around people, around noise and dance and music. And I knew she really wanted us to fit in, to find our place here.
“Don’t worry about those guys,” she said to me and ushered me off to the kitchen.
Half-eaten pizza and open bottles of soda littered the countertops as people lounged about in small groups of chatter. She led me over to the dining room table, where people were playing poker. A couple people glanced up and looked at Julie with recognition.
“Julie!” one girl greeted. Half her head of black hair was shaved and combed to one side, and her blood-red lips were a stark contrast against her snow-white teeth. “You made it!”
Julie waved to them and then motioned to me. “This is Avery, guys.” She looked at me with a smile as they all nodded as if they knew me. As if Julie had told them all about me. “And Av’, these are… the guys. From my class.” She began pointing at each of the six people that circled the table. Three guys and three girls. “Dom, Nathan, Chan, Margo, Shana, and Marty.”
I lifted my hand and waved at them. “Hey, guys.”
They erupted in overenthusiastic cheer and raised their drinks as they responded in unison. “Hey, Avery!”
I gave Julie a discreet look that said, I know you set this up, and took a seat offered to me. We spent hours playing round after round of poker. It didn’t take long for me to settle in. Julie’s friends from school were warm and welcoming and fun.
Drinks appeared in front of me, one after another until I couldn’t sit still anymore and let Julie drag me to the living room, where everyone smashed around in a clumsy dance. I let loose, let go of the apprehension I constantly carried around. The hesitation I put forth before every decision. Tonight, I didn’t want to be Avery the Sheltered Country Girl.
No, tonight, I was one of them. The kids who grew up around so many others their age. The ones who experienced the motions of public school and high school parties and dating. The trials of adolescence. People who weren’t socially awkward or nervous about large groups of people or always chose the path of least resistance.
When one song ended, and I could practically hear the thumping of my heart in my chest, I realized just how much I’d had to drink. Too much. The room spun even though I stopped dancing and my
stomach toiled. I needed air.
I tugged at Julie’s sleeve as a new song pounded against the walls. “Popping out on the back deck for a minute,” I roared in her ear.
She replied with a nod and waved at another person she knew from across the house. “I’ll meet you out there in a sec!”
The music seemed to increase as I turned and made my way through the jam-packed rooms. As I reached the mudroom that held the patio exit, my phone vibrated against my thigh. I pulled it out to see the gallery number flashing across the screen. Why would Celadine be at the gallery at this hour? Or calling me, for that matter.
I swiped the button across the screen and put the phone tight to my ear to hear over the music. “Hello?”
Celadine’s voice crackled through the line, but it was no use. The music was too loud. I opened the patio door and stepped out onto the crowded back deck where party-goers were barbequing.
“Celadine?” I said and pressed a finger to my other ear.
“Avery!” she said with impatience. But the surrounding noise was still too invasive. I could only hear every other word. “Going… home… need… leave… telling… you… “
“Sorry, Celadine. Celadine? I can’t hear you. Can you text me?”
Before she could reply, someone slammed into me. A guy stumbling out through the patio doors with drinks held clumsily to his chest. Clearly too drunk for his own good. He continued to fumble on his feet, and I couldn’t move out of the way quick enough as he pushed me to the edge, where a short set of stairs led down to the garden below.
I tried to push him out of the way. “Watch where you’re going–”
We went over the stairs, but while I stayed on my feet, the guy rolled to the bottom, his drinks splattering and glass shattering. With a moan, he pushed himself to his feet and wavered in place as he eyed me.
“Hay,” he said, his eyes barely able to focus on me. “I know you. New meat!” he erupted and threw his hands in the air. A few guys from the deck above, clearly his friends, repeated loudly, “New meat!”
“Uh, no,” I said nervously. “Not new meat. I don’t even go to your school.”
A Kingdom of Iron & Wine : New Adult Fantasy Romance (The Ironworld Series Book 1) Page 7