Dr. Orgasm (A Holiday Romance Collection Book 2)

by Michelle Love

  Aullie stopped in front of a particularly interesting piece, a gigantic canvas hung unframed from a wire in the ceiling, the gentle draping of the un-stretched canvas seemed to make different pictures depending on the viewer’s perspective. She paced back and forth, admiring the impressive and extremely innovative work.

  “What do you think?”

  Aullie turned to see a short, curvaceous girl about her age with blond hair cropped to her chin and a pair of slim, black framed glasses. She wore wide-legged slacks, a colorful blouse adorned with flowers and a little bit too much flowery perfume.

  “I think it’s incredible,” Aullie said, honestly. “Such an innovative piece of work.”

  “Well, thank you,” the girl said, modestly.

  “Oh, are you the artist?” Aullie asked, hoping she hadn’t offended her.

  “Yes, I am.” She extended a hand. “I’m Maggie Griswold.”

  “Aulora Greene,” she replied, shaking her hand. Though she loathed her birth name, it was too regal and pretentious sounding, she did like the artistic uniqueness of it when it came to the creative community. “Nice to meet you, Maggie.”

  “Nice to meet you too. Pretty name,” Maggie replied.

  “So, how long have you been doing art for?”

  And with that, the two became instant friends. One by one, they showcased, discussed, and complemented each other’s artwork before moving on to check out the competition.

  Aullie was happy to find someone to tour the exhibits with, especially since that someone also happened to be much more social. Thanks to Maggie and her almost aggressive self-marketing skills, Aullie had met several people, some of them important and some of them just good, funny company. Before long, she had four glasses of champagne down the hole and she was feeling pretty dang good.

  The pair met another artist who stood out even in a crowd of expressive artists. He had a short, neat mohawk dyed a dark navy blue, and swirls of colorful tattoos covering his lean arms. He was clearly proud of them, as he was sleeveless at what was technically a semi-formal event, and they quickly became a topic of conversation. A sparrow on his bicep carried a banner that read ‘Alberts’.

  “What’s that one for?” Maggie asked. Aullie had only known the girl half an hour, and she could already tell Maggie was crushing hard on tattoo boy.

  “Oh, that’s just my last name,” he explained. “Troy Alberts, isn’t that such a preppy name?”

  “It’s not that bad,” Maggie said with a cute little smirk.

  The girls followed him to his exhibit, an interesting collection of black and white paintings with ominous hidden skulls and roses with sharp, exaggerated thorns.

  “I don’t know what it is,” he said. “Ever since I was in high school, I’ve just always loved that sort of gothic, traditional tattoo thing.”

  “That’s super cool,” Maggie gushed. “Oh hey, Aullie look at this one!”

  She pointed to a small painting, one of the few pops of color in his collection. It had a fiery orange background and a traditional tattoo-flash style skull laid over the top, surrounded by an erratic black border. Aullie had to admit it was beautiful, striking in a way, and it reminded her of a few of her own works.

  “I just did that one for fun,” Troy said with a laugh.

  “I actually really like it,” Aullie admitted. “Your lines are so clean. I’m always so sloppy.”

  “Oh whatever,” Maggie rolled her eyes. “She’s awesome. Let’s go show him your stuff Aullie.”

  She figured she didn’t have much say in the matter and was happy to have made some friends, so she followed them through the maze of the art show. All the walls jutting out of everywhere to increase surface area made what should’ve been a short trip take forever.

  As they walked, Aullie peeked out of the corners of her eyes, checking for the little red stickers that meant a painting had been sold. They were sparse, but they were still there, and Aullie began to build up hope that maybe one or two would be stuck next to her paintings once they got there.

  As they rounded the corner to her exhibit, her heart sank a little to find there were none. Such a vain hope, she thought, discouraged.

  She tried not to let her disappointment show as Maggie gushed about Aullie’s bold color choices and expressive style.

  “I really like this one.” Troy pointed to a particularly dark piece Aullie had done. The black background was overlaid by different sizes of geometric shapes, all in dark shades of green and purple. “The way it tricks the eye and skips around, it’s really profound.”

  Aullie swigged the dregs of her fourth glass of champagne. Artists are such weird people, why do we always need to use such pretentious words to describe things? I really need to stop drinking, she thought.

  “Thanks,” she caught her slight slur and reigned it in. “It was definitely a fun one to paint. That’s the most important thing for me, really. When you make it fun, it doesn’t feel like work, you know?”

  “Yeah. I’m so ready to start selling some actual art, so I can stop my stupid job waiting tables,” Maggie said.

  “I’m a waitress too! I totally feel the same way,” Aullie said.

  Maggie said something else. Troy laughed. But Aullie couldn’t hear or speak or even breathe.

  Standing in the corner, tucked back almost out of view of her exhibit, was Weston. She was completely sure of it. He hadn’t seen her, thank god. He stood there, a rocks glass of what looked to be scotch in his hands, talking to another man.

  Aullie had almost felt overdressed in her fancy frock, but Weston almost looked ridiculous in a tailored tuxedo, considering that some of the people were just wearing nice jeans.

  The man beside him was equally overdressed, he even wore an impeccably tied bow tie. The conversation between the men looked heated and got hotter when Weston’s jaw clenched and he leaned over the shorter man with a predatory scowl.

  Aullie was surprised. Not only that he was there, considering her name only appeared on the show roster a few days ago, so he had no way of knowing she was there, but because his dress and his behavior were wildly out of place. Something was very wrong.

  The man in the bowtie gritted his teeth and glared back at Weston but said nothing.

  Aullie drifted away from her acquaintances. Their shallow conversation didn’t matter to her, and she hoped the crowd would help keep her hidden as she moved closer to hopefully hear at least some of what Weston was saying.

  She hadn’t pinned him as the angry, intimidating type, but his body language was rigid and menacing and she wanted to know what was going on.

  She moved closer, closer, then stopped to pretend to admire a sculpture, so she didn’t look like a total creeper. Aullie had never really understood the huge craze about sculptures made from garbage, but that one, in particular, was kind of neat, lots of coffee filter flowers.

  Aullie walked backward, very slowly, pretending to just admire a wall of art from afar. Plus, all Weston would see, if he looked, was a skinny girl with black hair. There were a lot of those, he wouldn’t necessarily know it was her.

  ‘This is crazy’, Aullie’s conscience nagged her. Her drunken mind won out, though and she continued her slow and potentially insane venture toward a man she shouldn’t want to see, just to hear what made him so angry.

  Surprisingly, she was close enough to hear their hushed tones. She considered a painting on the wall angled near them. It wasn’t particularly moving, but it wasn’t like it mattered.

  “You fucking bastard! You absolute imbecile!” Weston spat angrily. Aullie hadn’t heard him swear that way before and his accent somehow made it sound even meaner. “I gave you very specific instructions, and I want a very good reason why you didn’t follow them.”

  “Well, uh…,” the man mumbled.

  Weston cut him off. “You know what? I don’t even want your stupid bloody excuses. Handle this, now, or I promise it will not turn out well for you.”

  The other man, an ugly, c
hubby man with close-cropped dark hair and a hint of a Queens’s accent dropped his head in submission. “I’ll get it handled.”

  “You fuckin’ bloody well better,” Weston growled.

  Is this how he is when he’s working? Aullie thought, horrified. It probably took a decent amount of aggression and discipline to do the things he did, but damn, that was mean.

  Aullie walked away then, she’d heard enough. Weston had proven himself to be a liar and really, she shouldn’t have even been surprised that he would be so two-faced.

  When she found Troy and Maggie again, Maggie exclaimed, “There you are!”

  “Yeah, sorry,” Aullie apologized. “Had to run to the bathroom real quick.”

  “Hey, when nature calls,” Maggie said with a shrug.

  Aullie gave her best fake laugh for the lame joke and they continued their tour. As they walked away from her exhibit, she glanced back one more time.

  Still no red stickers.

  Art was discussed, people were met, hands were shaken, and truthfully Aullie was exhausted. Not only from all the social contact but because she couldn’t stop looking for Weston.

  Why was he there? Was this like that night at work, where he was going to confront her and manipulate her into another date?

  Truthfully, it seemed like some kind of weird coincidence, especially given his attire and the strangely aggressive conversation she had overheard. She was not only confused but obsessed.

  She wanted so badly for him not to see her, and almost equally badly for him to see her. Her conflicted emotions left her intensely paranoid and her peripheral vision was working overtime to make sure he didn’t sneak up on her.

  It was only nine-thirty and the show ran until eleven. ‘Damn all those crazy artsy night owls’, Aullie grumbled, hypocritically.

  This is going to be a long night.

  Aullie was drunk. Too much free champagne had her mind foggy and she wandered around the gigantic maze of a showroom. The paintings, all the bright colors seemed to blur together and it was very overwhelming. She was looking for her new friends, but couldn’t find them anywhere.

  ‘Oh well’, Aullie thought, swigging from her sixth or seventh glass of bubbly.

  Wasn’t there something else she should be looking for?

  ‘Oh yeah’, she realized.

  Weston!

  She hadn’t seen her tuxedoed stalker since the strange incident with him earlier and figured he had probably gone home. It hadn’t really seemed like he was there for the art anyway. So, what was he there for?

  Aullie truly had no ideas. She was growing bored with the show, sure there was plenty of art and expressions to contemplate and all that stuff, but between Gerald’s surprise kiss and Weston’s random appearance, Aullie was far off her game and exhausted.

  ‘I’m going home’, she decided. She was probably in no shape to be driving and she was sure apologetic little Gerald wouldn’t mind either driving her home or holding her paintings until the next day, so she wouldn’t have to pack them all up before the show was over. She just had to find him first.

  Slowly, Aullie swerved her way around another freestanding white wall and found herself back in her own exhibit. Her jaw dropped.

  Every single one of her paintings, big and small, dark and bright, had a little red sticker next to it. Every painting had sold. Aullie’s befuddled mind tried to do the math, it was confusing because there were fourteen paintings that were each set to sell for different prices. Each one was over a hundred dollars, though, so Aullie was going to be walking out of there with over a thousand bucks.

  The breath leapt from her chest. It would be the first time her bank account would have a comma in it for the first time in she didn’t even know how long. That would help with her rent and more than made up for the night of work she missed that night.

  Most importantly though, she was making it as an artist!

  Admittedly it was a small start but even the greats had to start somewhere, and she almost wanted to take it all out in cash and rub the bills in Eric’s piggy little face.

  Aullie couldn’t stop staring at the little red dots. She was so distracted that she jumped a little when Gerald approached her with a friendly pat on the back of her arm.

  “Jesus,” she said, putting a hand over her fluttering heart. “Sorry, you scared me.”

  “Distracted by the money, the fortune, and the fame?” Gerald asked, coyly. His face beamed with pride and he really was genuinely happy to have seen Aullie do so incredibly well, especially in a show that he was able to get her into.

  “I guess you could say that,” Aullie said, a prideful smile crept across her lips.

  “You wanna know the crazy part?” Gerald asked, tone upbeat and excitable.

  “There’s a crazy part?” Aullie replied.

  “They were all bought by one guy. Some crazy rich collector. He paid above asking price on all of them, and insisted they offer you a permanent showcase in the gallery! The manager went totally nuts, he even paid all upfront in cash. I’ve met some eccentric collectors, but I’ve never seen anybody do that before.”

  Aullie’s excitement bubble popped and her stomach sank to her knees. She would bet all the money she just made that she knew exactly who bought the paintings.

  “It didn’t happen to be a tall-ish guy with blonde-ish hair, way overdressed in a fancy-ass tuxedo, did it?” Aullie asked, bitterly.

  Gerald’s brows furrowed over his hipster frames. “Yeah, actually,” he said, sounding baffled. “How’d you know?”

  “He’s a…” What was the right word? He wasn’t an ex, really. He definitely wasn’t a friend. “He’s a problem I’ve been having,” she settled on.

  “Oh,” said Gerald, looking confused. “Well, either way, you got paid. And you’ve got a spot. So, you better ramp up that original work, get some more paintings in here, I think they were talking about giving you two full walls!”

  All her passionate, artistic dreams were being fulfilled, and Aullie couldn’t be any more pissed. Her fists clenched at her sides, a scowl twisted her made-up face and her drunken haze disappeared as a surge of angry adrenaline cleared her mind.

  “Is the guy still here?”

  “Um, I don’t really know for sure,” Gerald replied. He said something else, but Aullie didn’t hear it and it didn’t matter.

  Weston was staring right at her.

  Not even twenty feet away, he stood there all overdressed; exuding confidence and power. A tumbler of scotch was in his hand, but his eyes were clear and he looked sober. He probably would’ve looked incredibly sexy if Aullie wasn’t so damn angry.

  Weston smiled at her.

  Aullie glared him down. He remained still as she stormed toward him, feeling as though flames were shooting from her ears.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded, probably a little too loud and angry for the quieter, classy event but in that moment, she couldn’t care less.

  “Well, it’s nice to see you too, Aullie,” his smooth British voice purred, that infuriating smile still curling his lips. Aullie had never wanted to smack someone so bad in her life.

  “Why would you buy all my paintings? What are they, just gifts for your other girlfriends?”

  “Gifts? For other girlfriends? God, no, Aullie I’m not like that,” he explained. “I tried to tell you when I came to your apartment, but you slammed the door in my face. I called a few times but you had me blocked, so I figured I would respect your space. But what you saw isn’t what you thought it was.”

  “Oh, so you weren’t out on an early date with some beautiful, curvaceous blonde? Her hand wasn’t on your knee, yours wasn’t on her forearm?”

  Weston shook his head, looking exasperated. “Technically, yes, most of those things are true but it wasn’t some hot date. The woman you saw me with, who would love to hear those lovely compliments you gave her, is my cousin.”

  “Wh-What?” Aullie stuttered. She suddenly felt like the stupide
st person on Earth. She had thrown away the person who was bringing out something new, something better, in her because he was out with his cousin? All she had to do was let him say a few words that day on her pathetic little excuse for a porch or answered one single phone call.

  “Yes. Her name’s Hayley, we’ve been very close since we were young, so I could see how our physical intimacy may have come off the wrong way. I was trying to comfort her, she recently lost her husband.”

  “Oh,” Aullie said, her insides awash with shame and guilt. “And you left her to come to my apartment? God, I just feel awful…”

  “Hey,” Weston said with a warm smile. “It’s ok. She was understanding and I did go back and spend the rest of the afternoon with her, it’s really ok.”

  “How’d she lose her husband?”

  “He was shot,” Weston said, suddenly grim.

  “Oh, my god!” Aullie exclaimed. “By who? Do they know?”

  “Nope, no idea.” Weston’s sudden caginess caught Aullie off guard and made her suspicious but it seemed best not to push it. She’d seen how mean he could get earlier.

  “So, why are you even here? How did you find out I was showing?”

  “I didn’t actually,” he admitted. “I was here for a meeting with a friend and seeing you was just a bonus. I recognized some of your paintings and figured if I couldn’t have you, I could at least have part of you. I know how much it all means to you and I wanted to make sure you got a guaranteed space to pursue your dreams.”

  “So, you used your rich man pull to sell out my exhibit and get me a spot? You really pity me that much?” Aullie said, indignantly. She couldn’t believe him.

  “Look Aullie, me being rich has nothing to do with it. You’re talented, I’m not even the only one who bid on your works, I swear. I just made sure to outbid them,” he said with a coy smile.

  Well, she thought. At least the other bids were there. If he’s telling the truth.

  “I really want to see you succeed,” he said. “I mean that.”

  “I... appreciate that,” Aullie said, not sure what else there was to say. Things were awkward between them. She had overreacted and here he was anyway, trying to help her live the life she wanted to live.