by Nikki Wild
“I’m sorry too,” Riley whispered down the line. “I was being selfish… Things were just moving too fast… I should have been there for you. I shouldn’t have… left you. And now you’re gone.”
“I miss you,” I quickly blurted out, unwilling to talk myself out of expressing the sentiment. “I wish you were here.”
Riley remained quiet on the line.
“…Riley?”
Finally, she responded: “Oh god, Lex, I’ve made a huge mistake. I miss you too.”
I closed my eyes and rested my face against the window, holding the phone pressed against my ear. “I want you here, Riley. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since we parted ways… and I’ve been a wreck. Losing you devastated me… and I know I can’t have you, but I want you so badly.”
There was another piercing silence over the phone. I feared with every passing second that I would hear the line disconnect.
In fact, I thought it did briefly, but that’s when I noticed Jess trying to dial me on the other line. I ignored her call and continued to hold out for Riley’s response.
“If I don’t go to San Diego… I’m walking away from the opportunity of a lifetime.”
“You never needed Gloria before, and you don’t need her today. If you want to go, you should go. Maybe I can visit next time I’m in the states…”
Another piercing silence… punctuated by the sound of soft crying. Concern clouded my thoughts, and I felt my heart quiver with pain.
“Riley?”
“I love you, Lex.”
It was my turn to be stunned.
“…I love you too, Riley.”
“I can’t do this.”
“What can’t you do?”
“I can’t take her offer. She wants me to forsake any distractions…”
“Why is that a problem?” I asked.
“Because you’re a distraction. You’re a big goddamned distraction!” Riley shouted.
“That was her condition: move to California and give up everything else. Focus only on my artwork. She thinks that I need to work under a different atmosphere and to give up my life in order to produce my best work. She’s only giving me fourteen hours to decide, and then I’m gone…”
The phone buzzed against my ear again.
It was Jess again.
I ignored the call.
“Riley… you have to take this chance,” I insisted. “You’ve worked so hard for this opportunity. All I could do was get her to listen to you. You have your chance. You’ve got to take it.”
“I don’t care about that anymore,” she whispered sadly down the phone. “I never told you this… But… The magic came back.”
“The magic?” I thought aloud. “You mean, your art? You’re satisfied with your painting again?”
“I am,” she told me confidently. “After we met, I painted something… I haven’t shown it to anyone yet. It’s different… It’s better. Being with you made me better.”
She wasn’t the only one… Jess had been right. Riley was the best thing that ever happened to me…
“I don’t need to be in some stuffy San Diego studio… I need to be with you. You bring out my best creative side. You made me so happy, even if I wasn’t willing to admit it to myself… or to you.”
“So, what do you want to do, then?” I asked. The silence was deafening. I could feel the conflict through the line.
“Lex… I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.
“I’m coming back Riley. I’ll be on a plane tonight. Whatever decision you make tomorrow, I want to be there…”
This was more than I could have ever hoped for. I practically hurled a victory fist into the sky.
“Gloria Van Lark expects an answer from me around mid-afternoon… can you get here before then?”
“I’ll be there for you,” I reassured her.
“Thank you, Lex…”
I could barely contain myself as I hung up the phone, but before I had a chance to celebrate, it was ringing again.
Jess… Shit…
“I was on the other line,” I explained with a small grin as I answered the call. “I have news for you. Are you ready?”
“You’re not the only one,” she replied, sounding incredibly enthusiastic. “Who is the best fucking publicist in the world?”
“I’m going to guess you,” I replied.
For some reason, something felt amiss.
“I expect more conviction in your voice the next time I ask that question, buddy,” Jess chuckled. “Better put on your best fucking suit because I’m already on my way. I’m going to be there in an hour.”
“What, why? I’m heading out the door. I’ve got a plane to catch.”
“No, you definitely don’t,” she chided me. “Not when you hear this news: Lex Lambert, you’ve officially landed a direct meeting with the Head of Public Relations for the Patrovo Corporation himself. Cancel whatever you were about to do, because no matter what it was… it can wait.”
“…Brett Barker wants to see me?”
“You’re goddamn right he does.”
The phenomenally bad timing clicked in my head, and I groaned as my forehead braced against the window again. My view incorporated the enclosed glass stadium, the various gardens, and a river that ran across the estate… but my eyes focused on the stadium, cruelly mocking me.
“…Lex, are you there?”
“I’m here,” I sighed.
“You sound a lot less enthusiastic about this than you should be. I know that you’re beating yourself up over Riley, but c’mon. You’ve been waiting for this for ages.”
“Why does he want to see me now?”
Jess’s tone grew agitated. “Because it’s the only time I could work you in, unless you planned on waiting a week. By then, the decision would be made.”
“I don’t get it. I thought he was adamantly against offering me the sponsorship?”
“Well… it just so turns out that your little bar brawl was recorded. Joys of living in a time where everybody’s got a cellphone camera. And guess who showed up on camera taunting you?”
“Alistair!”
“It’s all over the tabloids. Alistair tries to get his own teammate arrested in the US. They have the whole thing on video. The guy attacking you, the way you tried to defend yourself, and Alistair acting like a damn fool. Barker won’t touch the guy with a ten-foot pole,” Jess said, laughing.
“That can’t be enough to entertain the thought of offering me the sponsorship.”
Jess grew hesitant. “…I might have gone a little further. There’s some rumors that you defended a young, vulnerable woman from a sexual attack…”
“I told you not to use Riley!” I shouted angrily.
“And I didn’t. The Patrovo Corporation asked me about it. Turns out somebody got their hands on a police report. That’ll be front page news tomorrow. What was I going to do, lie?”
“I told you under absolutely no circumstances were you to exploit Riley’s trauma to benefit me,” I said, my anger still bubbling to the surface.
“And I made that very clear as well, which seemed to impress Brett Barker. Look, you can hate me all you want, but I’ve bought you your shot. He’s willing to overlook the scandals and the attitude if you can convince him that you’re turning over a new leaf… and your single rival has been taken out of the picture. He’s left with you, or picking someone with half your personality and pop culture draw. All you have to do is come with me and meet him yourself.”
“I can’t go,” I told her definitively. “Because–”
“The hell you can’t,” Jess snapped. “I don’t give a bloody sod how mad you might be over this. I get it. You don’t want to exploit the girl’s trauma. Fine. But you’ve been working towards this for months. Everything you’ve done has been to secure this multi-million contract. I am handing it to you on a silver fucking platter. All you have to do is not fuck this up, yeah?”
“Jess.”
�
��Do not. I’ll be there in under an hour. We can be meeting Brett in two more. Just put on your best fucking suit and–”
“JESS!”
She instantly shut up, pausing to absorb the anger in my voice. While I composed myself briefly, a moment of tension crackled between us. “What?” She finally asked.
“I was on the phone with Riley when you were trying to call me earlier.”
“Yeah, and…?”
Her tone changed. “…Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh. Jess, we reconciled. She knows about the donation. Gloria Van Lark decided to take her in, but only if she moved to California and completely committed herself to the craft.”
“Oh! That’s the tits!”
“No, Jess,” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “She doesn’t want to do it. She wants to come back here – to England.”
“This girl has it bad for you Lex,” Jess laughed.
“Maybe. Point is, I just got done telling her I’m jumping on a plane. I want to be there before she has to make a decision with Gloria tomorrow…”
“Oh, fuck me sideways,” Jess groaned.
“Exactly.”
“Lex… there’s no way I can reschedule this thing with Brett and Patrovo Corp. It’s now or never. Can’t Riley wait, just a couple of hours? You’re already down a million this week on your little donation, and this is turning down an awful lot more… This is your dream!”
“I don’t care about the fucking money or the goddamn contract anymore, Jess.”
I realized that I’d said the words before I even recognized what they meant. I was stunned at how my heart had overrode my brain, sending a signal to blurt that declaration out… but even as I wondered about this, I knew that it was true.
All that mattered to me was Riley Ricketts.
“You really mean that, don’t you, Lex?”
I didn’t need to give it another second’s thought. “I do, Jess. I really do.”
“Well, I’ll be absolutely damned,” she laughed down the phone. “I thought this little trip might be a good idea upfront… give you some renewed perspective, keep you out of trouble… but you’re a changed man, Alexander Lambert. This woman has really gotten into you.”
“I think she has.”
“Alright then,” she exhaled, the tension leaving her tone. “In that case, fuck the contract. I’ll make the call right after we disconnect. If he can’t wait one more day to hell with the whole damn company. You get yourself to the airport. I’ll call ahead and have a plane ready for you.”
“You’re the best, Jess,” I told her, sighing out in relief. “I can’t possibly thank you enough.”
“Yeah, yeah,” she chuckled. “Go get suited up and head straight for Heathrow. Hit me with a text when you land.”
Riley
There was just one other person I had to speak to.
To the world, she was one of the most talented contemporary sculptors of our time – someone whose highly sought work occupied exhibits in over a hundred museums across the world. Highly reclusive, barely conducting interviews anymore, word was that she had hidden herself away somewhere in the vast archipelago of islands beneath Greece.
Mom was always dramatic like that.
I hadn’t spoken to Jolene Ricketts in years, and I still remembered the last conversation. Well, more accurately, the last vicious fight. We didn’t exactly see eye to eye, but something told me that she was going to be indispensible to me as I really set this major crossroads into stone.
She picked up on the fourth try.
“Hullo? Margaret speaking,” the weary voice on the other line spoke.
“Mom… it’s me.”
“…My stars, Riley?”
I suppressed a small smile at the sound of her confusion. “Yeah, it’s Riley. It’s been a long time.”
“It’s funny… I thought I might never hear from you again,” she told me matter-of-factly. “I take it that you need something from me. Is it money?”
If people thought that Gloria Van Lark was stiff as a board, then they hadn’t met my mother. It always surprised me how such an emotive and passionate sculptor could be such a cold, callous bitch to her own flesh and blood.
“I need advice.”
“Advice,” she chuckled. “Why on earth would you call me in the middle of the night for advice?”
Oh shit, I thought to myself. I didn’t bother to check for the time zone difference…
“Because I need you, Mom,” I answered plainly. “I’m sorry to call so late, I didn’t notice the time… but if you can spare me a couple of minutes, I’ve got a problem that I think you can help me with.”
She sighed briefly. “Fine. What is it?”
“I met Gloria Van Lark today.”
The silence over the phone was deafening.
“Gloria Van Lark approached you? In the flesh? Describe her. How did she look? I need to know for certain.”
“I met Paulette first, who matched the stories. But the real thing was an old woman in a disguise that I can only accurately call homeless chic.”
“That’s her, alright,” Mom remarked. Of course she knew the truth about Gloria… her work had probably been sitting in Spinnoc for a long time now. “If Gloria came to see you, then maybe I was wrong about your painting … Did she at least make you an offer?”
“As much as I appreciate that stunning vote of confidence,” I gritted my teeth, “Yes. She offered to purchase some of my artwork, so long as I packed up everything and returned with her to California. She’s waiting for my final answer tomorrow.”
“You mentioned a problem,” Mom remarked. “I fail to see where it is, unless your problem is clawing for my attention while I’m trying to sleep.”
It didn’t surprise me that she failed to grasp the situation.
“Mom, I’m being torn three ways. New Orleans is magic to me. My friends are here. Everything that I know is here… San Diego is so far away… And then… There’s Lex.”
“Oh here we go,” mother said, letting out a little laugh. “You know, I thought you grew out of boy troubles a long time ago?”
“Lex is trouble,” I confirmed. “I have to choose between launching my career into the stratosphere, or being with one of the most visible celebrities in British culture.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“I’m not. Are you familiar at all with footba– I mean, with soccer?”
“It’s not my thing,” Mom replied, “although the locals go batshit insane over the sport. You’re dating an English player? Who?”
“His name is Lex Lambert.”
“…Son of a bitch.”
My heart dropped. “Wait, what? What’s the matter?”
Mom laughed down the phone. “Lightning Lex Lambert? He’s one of the few I do recognize. His sticky thumb is in half of the scandals that come out of England… what on earth possessed you to chase him? He’s going to dump you in a heartbeat!”
“He’s changed, Mom,” I told her, realizing how naïve I probably sounded to her.
“Hogwash. He’s a renegade, Riley. Although, I’ll admit that marrying him would set you up for life… Paintings or no paintings, that’s the practical choice.”
“I don’t care about the money,” I told her emphatically. “I can make it on my own… I just need to know that I’m not making a huge mistake.”
“Choose Gloria,” Mom answered. “It’s the best decision I made in my entire life. Under her mentoring, your work will be known and appreciated the world over. I never regretted taking her up on the same offer…”
“Wait… what are you talking about?”
“Don’t be daft, Riley. You’re not the first Ricketts that drew the attention of Gloria Van Lark. No, she came to me about fifteen years ago, long after I’d established myself in the field. She told me that she could teach me to hone my craft to exceptional heights… and so she did.”
“Mom… that’s about the time that you left.”
“Oh, I�
��m aware,” she commented. “My art was everything to me, Riley. I made my choice and I don’t regret it. Look at me now… I’m arguably the most distinguished and decorated sculptor living today.”
“Mom, you… y-you left me? For… for her?” I stammered, barely able to acknowledge this sudden change in my understanding of things.
“When you put it that way, it makes me sound sort of rough, doesn’t it?” She chuckled airily down the line. “I saw to it that your needs were met. Your foster parents were sent appropriate amounts of money to give you everything that you needed, and they showed me some of your art as you grew up. It wasn’t too bad.”
I could feel my phone shaking against my head. All this time… I had been dreaming of gaining the attention of Gloria Van Lark… and the bitch had had a hand in ruining my childhood from the start.
My mother had abandoned me, yes. I had known that a long time ago. She chose her career...
Gloria Van Lark had done what she does best… She crushed someone under foot.
She crushed me…
Abandon your life.
Leave all of this behind.
I’ll make you world-famous.
I didn’t even care what Mom was prattling on about anymore. I took a few deep breaths and returned to the conversation.
“…You’d be making a fool of yourself if you turned down this opportunity, not that you were ever particularly bright.”
“I appreciate the help, Mom,” I told her.
She went quiet.
“You’re angry. Last time you got angry you didn’t talk to me for six years…”
“Maybe I can set a new record,” I replied, hanging up the line.
The phone clattered to the couch as I held my head in my hands and sobbed. The last couple of days had taken their toll on me, but I knew that I was making the right choice.
Fuck Gloria Van Lark, and fuck her museum. I’d come this far in life without her and I wasn’t about to let her control my life.
With this sentiment in mind, I needed some paintbrush therapy. I’d already prepared the canvas with a thin veneer of clear. I leapt off of the couch and perched myself in front of my easel, whipping up a dozen colors and blends for my pallet.