“Hey, there’s something I need to talk to you about before I have to leave.” It was time to tell her.
“Sounds ominous,” she joked.
“It is serious. I didn’t tell you earlier because I didn’t want to ruin our last day together. But the message that woke us up this morning was Rayne, the girl the band hired to handle fan correspondence. Anyway, she got my mail late last night and there was a letter in it from the woman who’s been stalking me. It was dated over a week ago.” I dragged my fingers up and down her back, soothing both of us.
“OK.”
“She called you by name and pretty much said that she was going to let you know that I was hers,” I explained, my blood boiling just thinking about it.
“It’s not a stretch that anyone who’s been obsessed with you for as long as this person seems to have been would know my name. I’ve been in your life for a long time. And though our full relationship may have been hidden, our friendship never was,” Izzy reasoned.
“Don’t you see? If the letter hadn’t gotten lost in the mail, we’d have been warned that she was coming here. We’d have been prepared. Your art probably wouldn’t have been damaged, and you wouldn’t have gotten hurt,” I had to force my tone to not sound as rage-filled as I felt.
“I’m OK. A little banged up, but I’m going to be fine. Don’t let her win. If she steals the joy from us starting to reconnect, then she wins.” She brushed her fingers along my jaw.
“I’ll try to not worry so much. But the thing that’s really going to help with that is me leaving Deke here to look after you until this nutjob is caught,” I said.
Izzy drew in a deep breath. I fully expected her to launch into an argument.
“If you think it’s necessary and it will make you feel better, I’m cool with it,” she agreed.
“You’re not going to argue? You were so resistant to having security after everything went down a couple years ago.” I shouldn’t question this miraculous turn of events, but I couldn’t help it.
“I know. And I’m not fond of having a shadow, but I love you and I don’t want you to worry about me.” She shrugged and kissed my jaw.
Relief flooded through me. I pulled her tightly against me. “I’ll introduce you to Deke when Joe comes to pick me up.”
Chapter 17
Izzy
Today was the day. Finally. I was a mess of giddiness and nerves.
After saying goodbye to Dawson days ago, I poured myself into finishing my focal piece. Reuniting with him, even unofficially, loosened something in my soul that had been bound for years. The creativity poured out of me. The days flowed into each other and now, the day of my art exhibit had arrived.
Charles closed the gallery yesterday, so we could set everything up. After spending the whole day moving, shifting and rearranging, I was finally satisfied with how everything looked. Then with Charles’s help, everything that was available for purchase was labeled with a price.
I smiled as I recalled how everything looked when we were done. But the joy was short lived.
I flew out of bed and dashed into my closet. I'd been so consumed with finishing my focal piece that I'd overlooked a key detail—I didn't have anything to wear.
Clad in my pajamas, I destroyed my closet, searching for anything suitable. I didn't have time to go shopping. Tears blurred my vision.
How could I have forgotten something so important? This was my first chance to really be seen as an artist. I had to make a good first impression.
Before I could fall into despair, my phone started to ring with Dawson's ringtone. A smile settled on my lips as soon as I answered. No matter what was going wrong in my day, he always made it better just by being him.
"Hey, flutterby," he greeted when his handsome face filled the screen.
Hastily, I left the destruction zone that was my closet, so he couldn’t see it.
"Hey," I answered as I sank onto the foot of my bed. "What are you doing up already?"
"I set my alarm, so I could be the first one to talk to you on your big day. I am the first, right? I told Deke not to come up until he heard from me," he rambled.
"You're the first," I assured him. "Thank goodness."
"Why thank goodness?" He was instantly alert.
"Because I'm a wreck and don't want anyone else to see me until I manage to pull myself together," I half-joked.
"Take that back right now. You are not a wreck. Why do you think you are?" he scolded.
"Because I got so wrapped up in finishing the pieces for the show that I forgot to—"
"Get a dress," he finished for me.
My mouth fell open in surprise. "How did you know?"
"Really? How long have I known you? I've seen you get so wrapped up in creating that you forgot to eat, forgot what day it was, forgot to put on shoes to go to school... do I need to continue?" He smirked at me.
"No, I get your point. I was just digging through my closet, praying I’d forgotten that I owned something spectacular."
"Do you?" he asked, his eyebrows lifting.
"Not so far," I said with a laugh.
Knock, knock.
I frowned. "Someone's knocking on my door. I thought you told Deke to wait?" I said.
"I did. Maybe whoever it is has the wrong apartment. Or maybe it's your parents?" he suggested.
"Nah. They're coming straight to the show tonight," I said as I tugged on my fluffy robe.
"Check the peephole before you answer that door," he said sternly.
"Yes, sir." I saluted him as I walked down the hall.
"Who is it?" I asked when I got to the door. I wasn't overly concerned. Deke was downstairs, standing guard, and the doorman wouldn't let people in to see me without Deke's approval.
"Delivery for Izzy," a vaguely familiar voice said from the other side.
I glanced down at the screen of my phone. "What did you do?" I asked the hot guy grinning like a loon at me.
"I hate that I can't be there with you for your big day. But I wanted you to know I'm there with you in spirit. Now open the door," he commanded.
After turning the lock, I threw open the door. Tansy and Mireille burst in. Tansy had a vase full of kaleidoscope roses, and Mireille had her hands full of other stuff.
I was speechless. Once again tears distorted my vision. Tansy thrust the vase at me. "Take these to your room, so you can admire them later and say goodbye to lover boy. We've got work to do."
She leaned around me, so her face was visible to Dawson. "You've got five minutes, mister. Then you tell her goodbye, so we can do what you sent us here to do."
"Yes, ma'am. And thanks, ladies, I owe you," he said.
"You're always owing us something," Mireille said from the other side of the room.
I giggled as Tansy pushed me towards the hallway. Once I was safely behind my bedroom door, I set the vase down on my nightstand. My finger gently touched each bloom.
"There are twenty-one," he said before I could count them.
"You haven't known me twenty-one years yet," I quipped.
"Nope. Not for three more months. But I figure, I already know I'm going to love you next year too, so may as well go ahead and celebrate it." He winked at me.
"So, spill. What are Tansy and Mireille doing here?" I cocked my head at him.
"They're here to help you get ready for tonight. The works. And I sent a dress." His eyes sparkled with mischief.
"When did you line all this up?" I asked in amazement.
"When I was there taking care of you, I noticed you didn't have any new dress bags hanging in your closet. And I know you. I figured you'd lose track of time and be scrambling today. So, I went shopping with Tansy to get you a dress and then arranged for them to fly to you. I hope that's OK?"
He looked a little worried that he'd overstepped. The boundaries still weren't clearly defined as our relationship hadn't been officially determined beyond friends again.
“It’s perfect. Thank you,” my vo
ice warbled with emotion as I answered him.
“I hope you love the dress,” he said, staring at me.
“No one knows me better than you, so I’m sure I will love it.” And I was.
“Make sure you take a pic to send me before you go,” he ordered.
“It’s like the eighth-grade formal all over again,” I teased.
“Yep, even sent you flowers.” He winked. “I really am sorry I won’t be there.” Regret was painted all over his features.
I waved off his apology. “Stop apologizing. You had the concert planned for your hometown fans before you even knew about my show. I’d never ask you to sacrifice your dreams for mine.”
“I know. I just hate to miss your moment of greatness. I have a feeling this show will change everything for you. Your talent will finally gain some recognition.” His belief in me knew no bounds.
“Maybe. You don’t know that for sure.” I refused to hope for much other than getting the experience of organizing a show.
“I do know that for sure. And I am so damn proud of you,” he said fiercely.
♪ I Miss You Boyz II Men
I smiled shyly at him. “I miss your face.”
“I miss yours too, flutterby. And I love you.”
“I love you too, Daw. And remember, I’m a patient woman,” I said, turning his words from the past back on him.
He chuckled. “I know you are. I appreciate it. And I’m so sorry that I can’t give you more right now.” He looked so distraught.
“I know. Now that you’re back in my life, we have time. We’re connected. Forever,” I vowed to him.
“The red thread,” he whispered.
I glanced down at the friendship bracelet tied back around my wrist.
“You got it.” Smiling, I brushed my finger across the screen, wishing I could feel his skin beneath mine. “Have there been any more letters?” I asked changing the subject.
“No,” he said in an agitated tone.
“Maybe she’s done,” I offered. There’d been no word from his stalker since the night of his concert here and my accident—except for the delayed delivery to his house.
“Maybe,” he agreed, but he didn’t sound so sure.
Before I could talk about it more, Tansy shouted down the hallway, “Five minutes are up.”
“Be right out,” I shouted back.
Turning back to my phone, I said, “Guess I better go.”
“Yeah. I’ll try to call you later. But in case I miss you, because I know you’re going to be in your own world as the day goes on, I love you.”
“I love you too. Just two more weeks before you’re back,” I reminded him.
“I’m counting the minutes.” He blew me a kiss and disconnected.
Tansy’s entrance into my room prevented me from slipping into the rabbit hole of yearning to be reunited with the other half of my heart.
“Get dressed,” she ordered. “You’ve got an appointment in forty-five minutes.”
“I haven’t even showered yet,” I protested.
“You’d better get to it then. Don’t worry about doing your hair. That’s on the agenda.” She turned on her heel and walked out.
After I’d had a facial, a manicure, a pedicure and a massage, the girls led me to an upscale hair salon.
As we waited for a stylist to call me back, I turned to Mireille. “So, I’m guessing since you’ve seen my dress, you have an idea about what should be done to my hair?”
“Of course.” She dug in her massive bag and produced a couple of photos. “So, I was thinking you could wear it up like this,” she said showing me a photo.
“I like that. Cute and classy with a hint of sexy,” I said.
“And I was thinking this too,” she said showing me the next image.
“That’s perfect. Let’s do it,” I said excitedly.
The rest of the day passed in a whirlwind. Before I knew it, the time had come to call Dawson and head out. Tansy and Mireille were waiting in my living room with Deke.
Standing in front of the long mirror, I snapped a selfie and sent it to Dawson. My phone lit up in my hand as he called me instantly.
“Hey, you,” I said as he filled the screen.
“So, what did you think of the dress?” he asked anxiously.
I glanced at myself in the mirror admiring the strapless gown he’d picked out for me. The top was black, and a ring of jewels circled the high waistline just beneath the bustline. The black from the top bled down into the skirt to mingle with streaks of pink, purple and orange, like a watercolor painting.
“I love it. You picked the perfect dress.” He knew me better than anyone.
The smile on his lips took over his whole face. “You look like a work of art. People are going to be so enamored with you, they aren’t going to be able to focus on your work.”
“Let’s hope they check out my pieces. I’d like to sell a few and make some connections. Maybe I can get some commissioned work out of this.” Nervously, my free hand stroked across the satiny material of my dress.
Loud noises sounded in the background behind Dawson. He must already be at the venue.
“I know I said it before, but I’m sorry I’m not there to escort you to your big debut,” remorse made his voice sound sad.
“Hush about that. You will be with me. In my heart. I never go anywhere without you.” My palm pressed against my chest.
Voices called in the background. Dawson’s gaze darted offscreen for an instant then returned to mine. “I’ve got to go,” he said regretfully.
“Me too. I’ll call you when I get home, OK?”
“I’ll be waiting. I love you, flutterby.”
“I love you too. And thanks for today.” I blew him a kiss and disconnected.
Deke drove me to the gallery. Quietly, I walked the area, examining my work, trying to view it critically.
“You’re early,” Charles said from behind me.
I laughed. “You knew I would be. I had to check things one more time.”
“It’s good you’re here early. I have news. Your focal piece has an offer on it. Two thousand more than you’d hoped for.” He grinned widely at me.
“What? How is that possible?” I asked, clutching my hand to my heart.
“To hype up the show, I did a sneak peek video tour. I didn’t show the full piece, just a few of the canvases. An hour after I posted the video, I got a call. I didn’t accept the offer because I wanted to talk with you first,” he said.
“I think I need a minute,” I croaked and sank onto a bench positioned near the focal pieces.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Charles patted my shoulder as he walked off.
The pieces were new, but I was still attached to them. They meant a lot to me. Could I let them go?
My gaze ran over the line of just over a dozen canvases representing the creation I’d dubbed Fate’s Thread. I really hadn’t expected them to sell. When I unveiled the paintings to Charles, my big stipulation was that the collection had to remain intact. He warned that it might limit its salability. But the pieces belonged together.
After dancing with Dawson the night of my parents’ anniversary party, I hadn’t been able to get the tale of the red thread of fate out of my mind. An idea began to take shape, and it quickly became one of the pieces I was proudest of.
I stood so I could spend time with these bits of myself before I had to let them go. They’d been arranged on a large, mobile partition.
I walked to the first canvas. It was a painting of a painting. I’d painted a woman in profile, standing at an easel. Red dripped from the paint brush in her hand. The paint flowed down the edge of the canvas in a thin stream until it wrapped around her ankle and floated off the edge of the canvas. On the easel, within the painting, was a self-portrait. The face was blank, but it was her. Me. There was a heart-shaped hole in the painting on the chest. A light red rimmed the edge.
The next painting showed a little boy and girl pl
aying with a puppy in the yard. The puppy had a red rope in his mouth running across the grass. One end of the rope was wrapped around the boy’s ankle while the other was wrapped around the girl’s ankle. The ends of the rope trailed off each edge of the canvas.
The third image depicted a birthday party. The boy and girl, a little older, stood in the center of a crowd. A discarded green bottle rested on the floor in the middle. The boy and girl stared at each other. Balloons filled the ceiling with red strings hanging down from them. They swirled to the floor. One of the curly-ques twined around an ankle on each, then disappeared off the sides.
The fourth rectangular piece of art was a map of the US. The girl stood on South Carolina while the boy stood on Ohio. Red lines representing highways on the map wound around their ankles.
Next was the girl in a pink party dress clutching a bouquet of red roses tied with a pink ribbon. As the ribbon cascaded to the floor, the color deepened to red before it ringed her ankle.
After that was them as a teenaged couple in formal wear wrapped up in a string of red twinkle lights.
Then came the young man singing on stage to the young woman in the crowd. Red music notes flowed down the painting and encircled her ankle.
The next one showed him surfing at sunrise. A red ankle cord trailed in water forming the edge of the wave crashing on beach. The girl waited in the surf with a camera.
On the following canvas was the Eiffel Tower with red trailing up the latticework to the man standing at the top, then the red connected to the woman who was in a freefall off the side.
A mountain range at sunset was next. Red rimmed the craggy peaks and streaked down to the woman’s ankle where she was photographing the sunset. A different man stood off to the side. The red thread ran near him but didn’t touch him.
The next image showed red taillights shimmering through the rain. The first boy, now a sad man, was visible through a tour bus window.
The last painting showed the man on stage with his guitar. A red cord ran from floor up to the guitar. It thinned to the middle string on the instrument where it was thrown across his chest. There a heart shaped hole was edged in vivid red.
Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1 Page 67