“How about the fact that we aren’t friends?”
“Sure, we are.” He turned sideways and traced a finger down her cheek, the smell of stale cigarettes lingering.
“That was before the lies and the cheating and the—”
“Shh, don’t go getting all worked up again.”
“Worked up?” Her voice cracked with disbelief. “You know the only reason I’m here is because you’re blackmailing me. The second I graduate is the second this little arrangement ends.” She stood, “If you aren’t going to say what you came here to say, I’m leaving. I can’t stand to be around you.”
Theo remained sitting, but cut his gaze up at her. “You don’t want to take that tone with me, Brie. I might forget the terms of our arrangement and let one of those little photos of you make its way to the head of your school.”
She swallowed as much out of dread as to hold back her anger.
“And, we all know what would happen then, don’t we? Poor little Brie would be out on her ass, penniless, with no hope of graduating.”
Furious tears welled and she swiped them away. As she stared down at Theo, hate pumped with each pulse of her blood. Even though she’d gotten out, he’d found a way to make her life miserable.
With her fingernails digging into the palms of her hands, she kept her voice calm. “How much, Theo?”
“Well, now, why do you assume it’s money that I want? Maybe I was thinking about something else. Something a little sweeter.” He eyed her ass with a small, satisfied smirk.
She angled her body away from him as her fingernails dug in further, her arms on the verge of shaking.
“Okay, I’m kidding, you caught me.” He held his hands up. “See, there’s this little place outside London that would make the perfect studio. As you know every artist needs their space.”
“How much?” she asked through clenched teeth.
He stood and stretched as though he didn’t have a care in the world. “I think ten thousand pounds will do it.”
Eyes wide, she shouted, “Are you completely mental? I don’t have that kind of money.”
“Sure, you do. That big fancy teaching job must pay pretty well.”
“It covers my tuition. That’s it.”
His easy smile slid away, replaced by a darkness she knew all too well. “Where’d you get the money last time?”
Her gaze lowered to her lap as she remembered signing the papers for the student loan she’d had to take out in order to pay him. And, the look on her brother’s face the time before that when she’d had to lie about why she needed to borrow money. Her tears were back, hot pools of anger threatening to spill over. “I borrowed it.”
“Then, you might want to revisit your lender. Or, ask mummy.”
“I can’t. There’s no more money to be had.” She’d die before taking another penny from her brother and no banker in their right mind would give her more. Her leg bounced uncontrollably. “You know my mum doesn’t have it either.”
He stepped toward her, his face no more than six inches from hers. “That’s not my problem, it’s yours.” He pulled back and replaced his menacing expression with an easy smile at the same time he hooked his dirty fingers into the loopholes of his jeans. “Oh, and I’m going to need the money by the end of next week.”
When he started to walk away, she tried a different tactic. “Theo, please.”
He stopped and turned toward her.
“Don’t make me do this anymore.”
“Sorry, Brie, but I gotta do what’s right for me and right now that’s a new flat. I’ll see you at the end of next week.” He spit on the sidewalk and then called over his shoulder, “You might want to go home and have a lie down, Brie. You look bloody awful.”
Adrenaline unleashed through her body as she dropped back down onto the bench and stared at her shaking hands through her tears. She wanted to scream. Scream and scream until her throat hurt, until she was too spent to think about how stupid she’d been or how weak.
But, allowing herself to give in to her misery wouldn’t solve her problem. She needed money and a lot of it. As she gripped the bench she ran down a mental list of everyone she knew, but there was no one she could ask. Jessica was using student loans to pay for school and with her own brother in school, her mum was strapped. Besides, how could she ask her anyway?
“Brie.”
A fresh wave of panic surged through her at the sound of Bailey’s voice. She ran her fingers under her eyes and through her hair. This day just kept getting worse.
“Hey, there you are. Jessica said you were out here.” Bailey took the open seat on the bench Theo had vacated. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He half turned to stare in the direction Theo had taken. “Who was that guy?”
She shook her head and tried to shrug off his concern, but he glanced down and then grabbed one of her clammy hands with his warm one. He turned her palm up and his eyes shot to hers. “Did he hurt you?”
She snatched it back, embarrassed by the red marks she’d caused. “No, I did that.”
“Brie, tell me what’s going on. Maybe I can help.”
A frazzled laugh erupted from her chest and a fresh wave of tears with it as she stood. “No. I don’t think so.”
Bailey got to his feet, slowly, as if she were some kind of nervous animal he didn’t want to spook. Concern reflected in the deep blue of his eyes. How easy it would be to fall into them and into him. And, part of her wanted to. A bigger part of her than she was comfortable with. She knew Bailey was the kind of guy who would pull her close and stroke her hair and tell her everything was going to be fine, but that wasn’t possible. Theo was her problem and her problem alone.
“Listen, Bailey, I appreciate your concern, but this has nothing to do with you.”
He took a step back, “I know you’re right and it’s not my place, but—”
“But, nothing. You’re my student. Not my family or even my boyfriend. My life is my own and my problems are mine to solve.”
“Listen, I get that, but I am your friend at least.”
She tore her eyes away from his troubled ones and watched as a bus drove by. “Go home, Bailey.”
She turned and walked in the opposite direction of Theo and the mistake she couldn’t shake, and from Bailey, a better man than most. It wasn’t like she wanted to hurt his feelings, but she only had two weeks to come up with ten thousand pounds which might as well have been a million.
Chapter 11
With a pounding head, Brie did her best to hurry from the room when class ended. She didn’t want to risk Bailey attempting to speak to her, not after the way she’d treated him after her run-in with Theo. Ashamed of her cowardice, she kept her gaze focused on the scratch in her desk while she packed up her things. Bailey was too good to get dragged down into the mess she’d made. If anything, she was doing him a favor by keeping him out of her life.
She shoved her laptop into her bag and at the same time eyed her phone with trepidation. Over the course of the last week she’d done nothing but try to come up with the money to hold Theo off, but as she’d feared there wasn’t enough. Enough money, enough time.
She shook her head and tossed her phone into her purse. Staring at it in fear wasn’t going to help.
“Miss Freeman, do you have a minute?”
Brie jumped, but was at least able to stifle the yelp she’d almost let out. “Sure,” she plastered a smile on her face while her heartrate tried to return to some variation of normal, “What can I do for you?”
“It’s our latest assignment, the one for the mid-term? I’m having trouble narrowing down which collection to write my paper on. There’s the Western Art collection that’s important because it’s, you know, our history in a lot of ways, but then the Eastern collection is fascinating and u
nique and entirely different from what I’m used to.”
Brie opened her mouth to comment, but didn’t get the chance.
“I mean which would you rather read about? The Western one in keeping closer to home or the Eastern, which would undoubtedly force me to challenge myself on a greater scale? Either way it’ll be interesting and I’ll learn loads, but I don’t want you to think I’m taking the easy way out or if there’s one you like more I could go that route. Thoughts?”
Brie waited a beat to make sure her student was finished and then asked her a few questions to help her make the decision for herself. “It seems to me you’re leaning more toward the Eastern collection and to that I say go for it. Either way works which is why I let everyone choose which collection to write about. If you’re interested in your topic, it will show in your work.”
Beaming, her student made a note and headed off. Brie let out a breath and smiled for the first time in a week. To get to see the spark of interest in the students was what made the prepping and the grading worth it. She tucked her hair behind her ear and as more of a reflex than a conscious decision she glanced toward Bailey’s seat, but he was already gone.
A small part of her sagged under the weight of relief while another made her question whether or not she should run after him and beg his forgiveness. But the truth was, that much like her students, she had her own class work to deal with. She couldn’t run off after a guy even if she’d acted harshly toward him. He’d be better off without her drama anyway.
A few minutes later, as she entered the museum, the sound of squeaking sneakers on wood and murmuring voices greeted her along with her favorite security guard.
“Afternoon, Brie. Where are you headed today?”
“Hey, Saul.” She stepped to the side to allow a small group to pass. “Oh, you know me. I’ll be around.”
He tipped his hat and she set off. Inside this place, this building full of history and creativity she felt more at home than in her own flat. She waded through the tourists, students, and clusters of art lovers near the entrance and made her way to a familiar far corner of the museum. It was one of her favorite areas inside the Ashmolean and today, she had it almost completely to herself.
Brie slid her pack off her shoulder and dropped it on the empty bench facing one of her favorite paintings. She could stare at it for hours and sometimes did when she needed to clear her head. Her earbuds were raised halfway to her ears, when a girl sitting on a nearby bench groaned in frustration. Brie turned and couldn’t suppress a smile when the frustrated girl’s face twisted into a scowl as she stared at Watteau’s work entitled ‘The Surprise.’
“You have Daniels this term, eh?”
The girl turned and nodded, a look of misery on her face.
“Yeah, I’ve been there. My name’s Brie.” She crossed over to stand beside the girl and the painting.
“I’m Ava.”
“It’s nice to meet you. So, what do you have to do? Wait, let me guess. You have to either describe similarities between some of Watteau’s works or explain the two opposing sides to this particular work and why you feel the way you do.”
Ava nodded, wide eyed. “How’d you know?”
“Like I said. I’ve been there.” Brie took a seat beside Ava careful not to knock her over-stuffed bag to the floor. “Which question did you choose?”
“Hell if I know,” she whimpered, “I don’t understand anything about art, but I have to take this class.”
“Okay, don’t panic. I’ll help you.”
“You will?” A sliver of hope sprang into Ava’s voice.
“Sure. Okay, so first I would recommend dissecting the two different natures of the painting. It’ll be easier to fill your paper with definitive facts since Daniel’s doesn’t like a lot of fluff.”
“Got it. Minimum fluff.”
Brie grinned. “Exactly. So, when you look at this work, what do you see?”
Ava’s determined eyes searched the work. “Obviously, the couple is in love.” She paused to glance at Brie for approval and then continued. “But, the little guy playing the guitar is sitting really close to them, like way too close for them to be that wrapped up in each other. He’s probably thinking they need to get a room.”
Brie laughed, the sound echoing around the exhibit space. “He just might be or what else might be his significance?”
“Um . . . he could be setting the mood for them?”
“That’s one side of it. He’s part of the picture of love and romance, possibly elevating the experience. Nice work. That’s half your paper right there. Now take what you know and find the opposite side of it. What else might the musician represent?”
“Okay, this is harder.” The girl blew out a breath as her eyes searched the painting again. “I’m not great with poetry and words and pictures representing different things. Can’t people just say what they mean?”
“They can, but they rarely do.”
Ava sighed. “Right, okay so maybe he’s a lurker. Like he’s what makes this less beautiful.”
“Possibly, but think of it like this. What if he’s like us, the viewers of the painting, what does he see?”
Ava tilted her head to the side, thoughtful. “Lovers, affection, and maybe he’s sitting close to them because he wants to be a part of it or like he’s seeing something that’s missing from his own life.”
Brie broke out into a huge smile. “You’ve got it.”
“I do?”
“Yes, that’s it. It’s all about asking the right question. And, Watteau is known for including semi-tragic observers. Now, take what you know and get writing. You’ll be good to go.”
Ava gathered her things and stood. “Thank you so much. I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“It was no problem.” She watched Ava leave and returned to her bag, pleased she’d been able to help and, as an added bonus, she’d been able to forget about her own problems for a few minutes.
As she took her seat on the bench and pulled a notebook and pencil out of her bag, a centered calm descended over her. She wasn’t going to quit working on her dissertation simply because everything she had worked for could be wiped out in a matter of days. She sighed and flipped her pad of paper over.
All of her work over the last five years would mean nothing without completing the DPhil program and if compromising pictures turned up, she would be fired. As she’d feared, it was outlined in the bylaws of the University that professors and grad students had to maintain a certain level of professionalism and she was pretty sure nudie pics wouldn’t fall under their criteria. God, and it wasn’t like she’d allowed him to take them of her for anything other than to use to paint a portrait. It wasn’t like they were for publication, in fact, most were sexy without full on shots. But, the university wouldn’t see it that way. Now that she knew the truth about what kind of man Theo was and what the pictures were really for, she wouldn’t be able to argue with the head of the school over whatever punishment came her way.
She exhaled as she dragged her pencil across the page to create the curve of a woman’s back. The repeated gesture lulling her into a calm few other things could. She moved the pencil again, this time focusing on the angle of the woman’s shoulders to mimic the painting before her. This particular work reflecting a pair of lovers from the turn of the century held a sort of whimsical romanticism. Soft colors, smooth lines, rosy complexions, it was what love looked like in her mind. There were no hard edges or threats. No deceptions between them, only light touches and happiness.
“That’s pretty good, Miss Freeman.”
She jumped at the sound of Bailey’s voice and then stared as he bent to pick up the pencil she’d dropped. As she tried to come up with something to say, something that would convey how sorry she was for the way she’d acted, s
he tugged one of her earbuds free.
“Sorry to sneak up on you.” He met her eyes and handed her pencil back to her, their fingers brushing in the process.
She transferred the pencil from one hand to the other, her fingers continuing to hum with energy after touching his. “No, it’s fine. I was lost in thought. What are you doing here?”
He held a notebook out to the side. “Working on my paper for your class, actually, and you?”
She held his gaze a moment, searching for any sign he was angry with her, but found his face relaxed, an easy smile touching his mouth. She swallowed and tried to come up with the appropriate words as she scooted over to make room for him. If nothing else she owed him an apology.
He took the offered seat and let his gaze wander to the painting before them. “The artist makes it look simple, doesn’t he?”
“I guess that’s what it means to be a master at something, taking a task that is extremely difficult and making it look effortless.”
Bailey tilted his head to the side and crossed his ankle over his opposite knee as though ready to settle in for a deep philosophical discussion. “That’s true enough, but I meant the subject matter. The artist makes love seem simple.”
She turned her face so she could study the man beside her. “Maybe for some people it is.”
“Maybe so.”
There was a heaviness to his voice that made her want to reach out, to touch him, to let him know she cared, but she held back. She had no right to probe him about anything.
“Listen, Bailey, about last weekend.”
He turned his gaze on her and shook his head. “No, don’t. Let’s not go backwards.”
“But, the way I spoke to you—”
“You were having a bad day. It happens.” He shrugged and returned his attention to the painting.
“I appreciate that, but I do want you to know that I’m sorry.”
A Light in the Dark_Survival of the Fittest Page 9