“I know,” Lou said. “I’m just getting prepared. I hope it’s not annoying.”
“Not at all. I’m sure he’ll find a way to make you pay for your impertinence.”
“Not gonna happen. The minute I’m out of this car, it’s red, red, red, and red.”
“Wouldn’t be so sure about that, Louisa.”
Finally, the car came to a stop. She heard the driver’s door open. Then her door opened and Lou felt a warm hand on her arm, tugging her out of the car.
“Red, red, red, red.”
She was ignored. Hands pulled her out of the car until she was standing on two feet.
“Red,” she shouted.
Suddenly, she felt herself picked up by strong hands and dumped over a hard shoulder.
“Hey, fuckhead. Red, red, red. Let me go.”
A sharp smack hit her bottom, then another and another.
“Alright. I’m sorry about calling you a fuckhead.”
The hand stilled but still rested hot on her bottom. It felt good. Why did it feel good? God, she was so fucked up.
“This isn’t your fault. You are probably a nice guy. I’m sorry. This was a mistake. Listen you cannot possibly want me; I haven’t showered in three days. I’m a fucking mess. This is all a mistake. I meant to call Genevieve and cancel all of this, but I didn’t want to turn on my phone. I’m sorry to waste your time, but you don’t want me. I am fucked up. Let me down please.”
“Did you really think I would let you go. After you left without a word? Did you really think it would be that simple?”
Trick’s voice. Trick.
Her body, which she had been holding rigid, melted against his. Stupid traitorous body.
His hands wrapped around her in return, pressing her close. One hand fisted in her hair, another began to rub the sting out of her bottom, as he walked her into an elevator.
“You were a bad girl, little red. You ran away. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain. You just expected the worst.”
“Trick. I can’t do this. I need a shower. I haven’t eaten dinner. It’s a long day in a very long week. I can’t talk to you right now. Not that I’m even sure you deserve an explanation. You were going to give me away. Why do you even care?”
“You worked a thirteen hour shift and they didn’t feed you?” His voice sounded sharp.
“Trick.”
He set her down on the sofa.
“Stay, Louisa.”
“I’m not a dog, Trick,” she called out to him, trying to sound pissed off. She should be pissed off, but all she could think was he came back for me. Lou couldn’t decide if she belonged in a nunnery or a mental hospital.
She heard him in his kitchen. The fridge door opened and closed. There was a clatter of plates. She heard him step into the living room and set something down. Then his warm hands were on her face untying the blindfold and removing the ties from her wrists, rubbing them gently after they were freed.
He was more beautiful than she remembered, and he was frowning at her.
“You look tired. Have you been sleeping?”
“You realize you can’t do this, right? Kidnap women who don’t say goodbye on their way out the door. You know you are really fucked up, don’t you?”
“I’m surprisingly self-aware for such a fucked-up individual. Now you need to eat something. I wish I had something more substantial.”
Lou looked down at a plate loaded with cheese and cold cuts, and a large piece of crusty bread.
A glass full of cold white wine sat next to the plate.
“Go ahead and eat. I’m going to draw you a bath. Unfortunately, we are in a bit of a hurry. We are expected somewhere at midnight.”
“Where?” she asked. He couldn’t possibly be expecting her to meet strange men tonight, after everything. If those were the words out of his mouth, she was going to stab him with the cheese knife.
“Your gallery opening is tonight, and yes, it’s becoming clear that I should have planned this better. I was attempting a grand gesture.”
“My what?”
“Your gallery opening is tonight. The Weller gallery in Chelsea. It’s small but well established. May I help you get ready?”
The anger she thought she should feel was suddenly there.
“No, you may not. I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t understand any of this. I don’t understand you. I know it wasn’t sex, but it was… I don’t even know what it was but it was something, and then I get that call from Genevieve, so what is this? Because I really have no idea. You feel guilty? You want to do something nice for me? It’s not necessary. I can earn my way in this life. I always have. I always will. I’m fine.”
“Did you ever have the mumps as a child?”
“What?”
Trick sank into the chair next to her. He suddenly looked weary.
“You wanted an explanation. I was hoping to tell you after the show, but you want to know. So, okay I’m going to tell you. Answer my question please. Did you have the mumps as a child?”
“No.”
“Neither did I. I guess I sort of counted myself lucky. I was never really sick as a child. You should eat something, you know.”
He gave her a look, but she didn’t touch the plate, and he continued with his story.
“Anyway, I never had the mumps as a child, and then I got them when I was 25. The funny thing about the mumps is they’re much better to get as a child. Who knew? As an adult, there can be complications. It’s rare, but they can make an adult male sterile. It’s rare, but it happened to me.
“It’s an odd thing: how much something that you were never even sure you wanted can matter so much when it’s taken from you. But suddenly it matters, and it fucks with your dating life because when the hell are you supposed to tell someone this? First date, and it’s a tragic over share, right? Third date? Sixth date? When you’ve been dating for months? I tried that, too; the women felt like they had been lied to. I guess in a way they had. So I stopped dating all together. I decided to create a little club where people could safely find what they were looking for. Easy, Uncomplicated. No need for lies or explanations. No commitments.
Now you know why I’m an unsuitable match, although don’t fool yourself. I wasn’t going to give you up. I was feeling too selfish. I had delusions that I might actually get to keep you for a while.”
Louisa shifted in her seat until she was sitting on her hands. Her first thoughts were purely selfish. Giddy relief. He wanted her. The attraction she felt for him was mutual. In the next moment, the gravity of his confession hit her and her heart broke.
She bit her lip and forced her eyes not to water. She wanted to throw her arms around him and cry for him. She wanted to tell him it didn’t matter, that there was more than one way to have a family, but she wasn’t sure he was capable of believing it.
Instead, she sat on her hands, so she wouldn’t reach out and touch him, and said another true thing.
“I don’t want to give you up either.”
“Let’s table this subject for now,” he said. “You are going to be late if we don’t hurry, unless you are still refusing to attend?”
“I should refuse to attend,” she said lightly, although she doubted she could actually refuse him anything. “You didn’t think I would want a say in my first show?”
She was already on her feet though.
“You left. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed something to make you pay attention to me.”
“So you kidnapped me and hijacked my paintings. That will get a girls’ notice.” But she couldn’t help laughing.
Suddenly starving, she ripped off a piece of bread and pulled it open with her hands. She proceeded to stuff it full of salami and cut a couple large slices off the hunk of cheddar and stuffed them between the bread as well. Then she started towards the bathroom.
“Who hung the paintings? Who chose the order? And how did you price them? You didn’t price them too high, did you?”
<
br /> Chapter 15
***Trick***
She took large mouthfuls of her makeshift sandwich between questions as she tried to unbutton her pants with one hand.
Her clothes were wrinkled. She had no makeup on her face and he didn’t doubt her claim she hadn’t bathed in three days. Still, he couldn’t remember a moment when he had wanted a woman more.
“Come on. Finish that sandwich. We can undress you in the bathroom. I can have you ready in no time if you’ll let me. I work runway shows, love. I know what I’m doing.”
He picked up her wine and followed her to the bathroom. She let him undress her and bathe her. His hands wanted to linger over her soft skin, and touch her till she moaned his name and cried softly. He forced himself to stay on task. She peppered him with questions, all of which he evaded. He helped her out of the tub and toweled her off. He handed her the deodorant, and she blushed.
“I’m not putting that on in front of you. It’s not sexy.”
“Fine,” he said, laughing. “But hurry up. Your dress is laid out on my bed.”
She came out a moment later wrapped in his towel.
“I can’t wear that,” she said as she fingered the label on the dress.
“You haven’t even tried it on; besides, I don’t have another dress in the house. Would you like to wear your uniform instead?”
“Very funny. It’s a Prada dress. Prada. Did you think I wouldn’t recognize the name? I can’t wear that. It probably costs more than my rent.”
“Again, love, your time and fashion choices are severely limited right now.”
“I’m dressing under duress,” she muttered.
“Noted. You might as well ignore the label on the shoe box.”
She looked better than he had imagined, and he had imagined her looking radiant. The dress fit perfectly. Trick had lied; there were two more back-up dresses in his closet in case this one hadn’t fit. Neither label would have been more reassuring.
She might feel it was extravagant, but she loved the dress. He could see it in her face as she stole little looks at herself in the mirror while he blew out her hair and applied her makeup.
“Are we going to be late?” she asked when they were almost out the door.
“It’s your party. They’ll wait,” he said as he pulled on his suit jacket and then pulled her jacket out of the closet.
She accepted the motorcycle jacket with a weary resignation, no shout of surprise.
“You peeked.”
“I did,” she said.
“Good. The more vices you have, the more I think we might actually be compatible.”
“Are all the presents you give women this extravagant?” she asked.
“I don’t give women presents; you’re the first.”
She looked at a loss for words.
He helped her into the limo.
“You know I was actually kidnapped off the street, right?”
“Louisa, I’m sorry,” he said, and she looked startled by his apology. He laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. “I truly am sorry, love. I never wanted you to feel afraid. I fucked this all up, didn’t I?”
“You do owe me that apology, but I wasn’t truly afraid. I never thought she would actually hurt me. It was a game I simply didn’t want to play. I didn’t think you were waiting for me.”
“If you had known it was me, would you have wanted to play the game?”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Trick could see the answer on her face. Games, the push and pull would only heighten her pleasure.
He would never forget the moment when he spoke and she realized it was him, her body softened against his immediately. He didn’t need to see her face, he could feel her relief, and her pleasure at finding out it was him.
Yes, it was dark. It was wrong to pluck her off the street like that. Yet, at least on a primal level, they were right. They fit. They would have been a perfect fit before.
“The gallery owner did this as a favor to you, didn’t he?”
“When you meet him, love, you’ll realize he doesn’t do favors. He likes your work. More importantly, he realized he could sell it.”
“Who priced them?’
“He did. I’m sure he priced them accurately.”
The pictures she’d thought to ask $45 for now sold for $4500, but he thought he’d let her figure that out when she was in a room full of people; that would likely temper her reaction. He looked forward to watching her cheeks pink and her mouth work into that little puckered ‘O’ of frustration as she swallowed her anger. When they were finally alone, he would let her take her pent up frustrations out in a more personal way.
“The car slowed as they pulled up onto a cobblestone street. Trick was glad to see the gallery was already full. He expected the restaurant next door was full as well. He just hoped she would be pleased with the surprises that were waiting for her. He’d wanted more for her than a simple opening. He wanted an event.
Chapter 16
***Lou***
“You said it was a small gallery.”
“It is, love; that’s why I rented out the restaurant next door as well.”
“You did what?”
She couldn’t seem to stop shaking.
Small. Small gallery, he said. Nothing about this moment was small. She took hold of his hand and tried to steady herself.
Strings of lights were wrapped around the trees that stood in front of the gallery. The shop had floor to ceiling windows and they were full of poster size reproductions of her work. They were also full of her words. Painted onto the windows of the store in beautiful cursive calligraphy were her words about her work, stolen from her journal. I chase those feelings that words can simply not capture. Louisa Allen. Her favorite painting hung alongside the quote. It was of a young girl in a worn leotard and threadbare tights sitting atop an elephant with an expression of bliss on her face.
Audra must have assisted him in the theft. Lou should feel pissed, but all she could feel was awe. She counted the people outside the shop sipping wine in plastic cups. Fourteen people. And the gallery looked full as well. How many people had come here to see her? The free wine, right? It had to be the free wine.
Trick held the door for her and they stepped inside, into a crowd.
A woman in a top hat was seated at a small table in the entryway, reading a young woman’s fortune. A crowd stood behind them watching.
Her tarot cards were printed with Lou’s symbol paintings.
“You’ll be pleased to know that people can buy the tarot cards for only twenty dollars a deck,” Trick said as he helped her out of her jacket.
A girl whose dress was held together with safety pins turned around.
“The cards already sold out. You have to put yourself on the waiting list if you want a deck.”
“Thanks,” Trick said. “There are posters of your work, also available for twenty dollars,” he whispered in her ear. “I want you to remember that when you see the prices on the paintings.”
“Would you like a glass of champagne, love?” he asked Lou.
“Sure,” she said, distracted.
She didn’t know where to look first. It wasn’t the order she would have chosen for her work, but she had to admit it was perfect. Her quotes were painted on the ivory walls in bright cursive pinks, blues, and greens. The works hung alongside.
An old-fashioned popcorn maker stood in a corner, where a girl in a tuxedo jacket, a top hat, and fishnets stood handing out boxes of popcorn. In another corner, a girl in the same outfit was spinning out cotton candy.
“Louisa.” She heard Audra yell her name before she saw her tottering towards her in a black mini dress and super high heels.
She pulled her into a fierce hug.
“Please tell me you love it. If you don’t love it, I’m the worst friend in the world.”
Lou hugged her back.
“How can I not love it?” she whispered.
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
A tattooed bear of a man with hair that hung to his shoulders walked towards her grinning.
“Paul Weller, Louisa. I’m very happy to finally meet you.” He smiled a blinding smile at her, and then he pulled her into an easy hug.
When he let her go, Trick was standing there with two glasses of champagne and a scowl.
Paul just laughed.
“Trick, I’ve never seen a possessive look on your face. I like it.”
Trick handed both flutes to Lou and pulled Paul into the same easy hug.
“Come on my friend, let’s take a look around and see if the lady really approves. The tarot decks were Trick’s idea. He knew you would want to have something affordable, so we did cards and posters. The rest of your work carries a higher price point, but you’ve sold out, so I think I might have underpriced you a little.”
“Sold out? You’ve actually sold them? All of them?”
“Yes, all of them. Lou, don’t sound so surprised. I thought we would,” Paul said. “I started the bids for portraits at 45 and the larger circus paintings, which are my favorite by the way, I started at six.”
“Six?” Lou said, confused.
“Six thousand, Louisa,” Trick answered, “and the portraits started at forty five hundred, love. Not forty five dollars. You were practically giving your work away.”
Trick’s words irritated her a little. She had priced her work very carefully. She knew people were more likely to make an impulse purchase if she kept it under fifty dollars. She was an unknown artist hanging in a coffee shop. And it had worked. Lou sold her pictures.
“It was practical thinking, and you have hustle, Louisa. You got your work hanging on walls and you sold it, on your own. It’s impressive. And the work itself, it just breaks my heart. I love it.” Paul said.
He turned to Trick. “May I borrow Louisa, just for a moment?” But Paul didn’t wait for a response. He put a warm hand on her back and deftly steered Louisa politely past people who wanted to say hello and into a small office.
“I want to be clear with you, Louisa. You don’t have to sell anything with me. You are free to sell your works for any amount you like. I would love to represent you, but the choice is yours. I don’t normally do business like this, but I’ve never seen Trick in love before.”
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