by T Gephart
“Eve!” Bree had already spotted me, her hand waving madly from the top of the steps. “OhMGee, I can’t believe you’re here.” She rushed down the steps to the street as fast as her Valentino heels would carry her. “You look Amaaaaaazing.”
Bree was one of the women I had worked with and one of my favorite people at Lenore. And while she spoke like a teenager stuck in a woman’s body, intelligence wasn’t something she was lacking. Unlike me, she had no aspirations to produce original pieces. She was all about the investment. Wanting to Wolf of Wall Street herself—without the FBI indictments and cocaine habit—to an early retirement. Her ten-year plan had an island in it, as well as a well-oiled European whose job it would be to please his wife. And for all its ridiculousness, she was closer to her goal than I was.
“Thank you.” I smiled, able to pinpoint the exact second her attention slipped from me to the man slaying ovaries in his sexy suit.
“Errrrrrrrrrr.” She blinked blankly. “Who are you?” The breath slipped from her mouth seductively. She didn’t even try to hide it, her pink lips spreading into a smile.
“I’m Eve’s boyfriend.” Josh didn’t miss a beat, keeping one hand on me as he extended the other to Bree. “Josh.”
“Boyfriend?” Bree looked to me, her eyes squinting, probably confused. The last man who had worn that title was Oliver—douche canoe, not to be confused with the hot man who was standing beside me. “I’m Bree.” She accepted his handshake, giving him a big smile.
“Yes, this is my boyfriend, Josh.” The steps outside the gallery not an ideal location to have that conversation. “We should probably go inside.”
“Yes, yes. Of course. I’ll see you in there.” Bree smiled, nodding to both of us as we passed her on the way up the stairs. “Have fun.”
“She seems . . . nice.” Josh smirked, his hand on my back as he opened the door for me to pass through. “Is she an artist too?”
“Nope, she is here for the cash. She’s her own biggest customer.” I gave him the condensed version, not really wanting to spend my night talking about another woman. “And don’t let that smile fool you, she will cut your legs from under you if you go up against her in an auction.”
“Thanks for the tip.” He kissed my forehead as he joined me inside.
Lenore West might not look large from the street but the interior was huge. The old Brownstone had been gutted, with non-load-bearing walls being knocked out to create an airy open space. Then a buyer could wander through both levels, the white walls and polished floors not detracting from the canvases and prints. Tonight, like most showings, it wasn’t easy to wander, people with champagne flutes in their hands congregated in front of the art, talking.
Sometimes they were nice. Complimentary. Sometimes they weren’t.
“Eve.” My name again, this time from my friend, Lana. She strode toward us, wrapped in a black cocktail dress with a champagne flute in her hand. Her smile was unusual given the setting.
She hated these things and the gallery as well, but her husband had Bree’s school of thought. So he dragged her along to exhibits so they could nest away for their portfolio. It was how we met actually, but I wasn’t sure she was coming tonight.
“Lana.” I welcomed her with a hug, turning to Josh to do introductions. “Josh, this is my good friend, Lana, she’s not an asshole.” Making the distinction between her and the evil people I used to work with.
“There are a few lawyers who would disagree with you, honey, but thank you.” She gave me a squeeze before turning her attention to the man waiting patiently beside us. “And you must be Josh, I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Really.” He glanced at me, giving me a grin. “All good I hope?”
“Of course.” She laughed, creatively sidestepping further implication on exactly what had been discussed. Him being hot as fuck, and my crush—the usual topics of conversation when his name had come up.
“David’s buying something but I’ll introduce you later.” She gently placed her hand on his arm. “Don’t judge him, he’s going through this colored suit stage and no amount of telling him it looks ridiculous will sway him.”
“I’m the last person to ever judge someone on what they wear. This isn’t my usual get up.” He yanked playfully at his collar. “Though Eve seems to like it, so it’s worth the suffering.”
“I do.” My hand smoothed the front of his shirt, my fingers hitting his rock hard abs. “I’m going to fill our calendar with events just so I can see you in it.”
“Get a room you two.” Lana grinned, rolling her eyes.
“How about I go to the bar and get us some drinks instead.” His hand slipped to my hip, gripping me tighter. “It will give you ladies time to talk about me behind my back.”
“We’d never do that.” My hand covered my mouth in faux horror. “Not sure what you’re even talking about.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He shook his head, not buying it for a second. “I’ll be back in a second.” He kissed me lightly on the cheek and then walked toward the bar.
“Wow. That suit.” Lana’s eyes followed his retreating ass. Her smile saying more than her mouth.
“I know, right?” I wasn’t even mad, my eyes on the same journey as he disappeared from sight.
“I like you this way.” Lana waved her champagne glass in front of her. “Happy, relaxed. Usually when you’re here you’ve got that fake smile happening. Like you want to kill someone, but haven’t decided who.” She pulled her face into a fake grimace.
“Wow, thanks.” I pretended to look hurt. “So glad you’re my friend.”
“Come one, Eve. You know I didn’t mean it as criticism.” She took a sip of her champagne, eyeing me with approval. “I just meant he looks good on you. Whatever the two of you are doing, keep doing it.”
She was right on both accounts. I had never been at the gallery in an unofficial capacity. Usually I was running around, making sure everyone was having a good time and drinking enough so their wallets had an easier time opening. Tonight I had none of that pressure, my attendance purely voluntary. And while I hadn’t worked out all of my issues, I knew I was going to get there in the end. Josh had been the catalyst, and I was excited to see what the future held now I was slowly giving myself permission to be me. God, he was such a good man. So good I wasn’t sure I deserved him, but I wasn’t stupid enough not to take advantage of what fate had thrown at my feet.
“Holy smokes. Evie? Wow.”
It was probably the only voice that could sour my great mood. The man who usually had to be dragged kicking and screaming to almost every event when we’d been together, was here now of his own volition. Fucking typical.
“Oliver.” There was no warmth to my voice. “I’d say it was nice to see you, but we both know that it’s not.” My smile curled all on its own. “How are things downstairs?” My eyes dropped to his crotch. “I heard you had some issues. Anything I need to get tested for?”
Lana snorted, doing her best not to spill her drink as she tried to compose herself.
“Yeah, I might have deserved that.” He winced, the memory probably still fresh. “But I forgive you. Let’s call it even.” The bastard had the nerve to smile, mistakenly assuming I was looking for his forgiveness. But that wasn’t enough, no. His delusions extended further, assuming that me Icy Hot-ing his Calvin Kleins somehow negated his penis being in someone else’s mouth.
Jesus, take the wheel for the man, please. He was beyond any help I could offer him.
“Oh, Oliver.” Any feelings of affection I’d had were replaced by pity. “You really are clueless.”
“Here you go.” Josh appeared beside me, champagne in his hand. “What did I miss?” His arm wrapped around my waist.
Crap.
It wasn’t bad enough that Oliver’s appearance had dulled my mood; I now had to introduce him to Josh. Wasn’t throwing him out of my apartment and ending our relationship enough? I didn’t want to continue the freaking conversation and he
definitely didn’t deserve to meet Josh.
“Josh, this is Oliver. He was just leaving.” I glared at Oliver in case the words hadn’t been enough.
“You’ve moved on already?” He eyed Josh’s hand around my waist hard and I could almost smell the jealousy. “Didn’t waste any time, did you. Maybe it’s because you had him on the side while we were together.”
I felt Josh’s grip tighten around me. “Dude, I’m going to give you some advice. Modify your tone and walk away.” His blue-eyed stare was cold, his words steady. “Because I guarantee you, you don’t want to be talking like that to any woman, least not one I care about.”
“Just a minute.” My hand pressed against Josh’s shirt.
While I loved he’d stood up for me, in this case—against this loser—it really wasn’t necessary.
“Yes, I’ve moved on.” I tried to keep my voice low, not wanting to attract any more attention than we already had. “We broke up, which means I can see whoever I want.” I took a step toward him, my eyes narrowing. “And the reason we broke up is because you had your bit on the side, not me. Also because you were a terrible boyfriend and if you’d been the slightest bit attentive you would have known I was coming home early that day. So you don’t get to show up here and speak to me like I’m some whore. Do what you always do, have a drink at the bar and then leave.”
“But, Evie, it was a mistake,.” He had freaking nerve to say, changing tactics when calling me a whore hadn’t worked out for him. “Look, I’m sorry. I fucked up, okay? I know you were faithful, I’m just. . . . Give me another chance, we were so good together. I still love you.”
To his credit, Josh didn’t say anything and I’m almost positive it’s not because he couldn’t think of anything. I’m sure he had a whole bag of things he wanted to say, but he stood behind me quietly and waited for me to respond.
“You love yourself, Oliver. Maybe my money, but never me. We were never good together. So do us both a favor and fuck off.”
I heard a gasp, and first I thought it was from Oliver because he was looking particularly shocked. But for all the you-can’t-possibly-mean-it on his face, it hadn’t been him who’d seemed perturbed. No, it was someone behind me.
“Eve Thorton.” He said my name with such distaste, it made my skin crawl. “I was under the impression you were on leave.”
Mr. Ashton was not my biggest fan. While he actively didn’t like anyone, I was probably on the list of most disliked.
The feeling was mutual.
“I am on leave.” I smiled sweetly knowing it would bother him. “I’m here as a guest.”
“Well, as a guest.” He sneered, like it hurt him to say. “I’ll remind you that we don’t tolerate that kind of language in here. Lenore West isn’t a bar.”
I’m not sure what exactly happened.
Maybe I’d snapped and lost my mind entirely, or maybe for the first time in a long time, I was thinking clearer than I ever had.
Two assholes that I didn’t respect nor give a shit about their opinion, tried to handle me.
Two assholes too many in my mind.
“You.” I pointed straight at the asshole who used to be my boss. “Can go fuck yourself, with the we don’t tolerate that kind of language here.” My voice had become so loud, everyone had stopped and was now looking at us. Not that I cared, I was too deep into this.
“I’ve seen it with my own two eyes, you ignore two buyers having sex in a stairwell.” A chorus of gasps and a few snickers echoed around me. “Because their purchase got you enough commission to buy a yacht. So don’t tell me what we accept here. You only care about your bottom-line, asshole. You never once gave a shit about anyone who worked here, and you sure as hell don’t care about the artists, except for their capacity to earn you money, you evil, heartless prick.”
Silence.
It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.
Not a click of a heel on the hardwood floor.
Not a clink of a glass.
No one was moving and sure as hell no one was talking. Probably wondering if Eve Thorton, the soulless, talentless wonder had finally flipped and gone completely crazy. Write about that, Time Out. Oh, and by the way, fuck you.
I felt a hand, and I almost flinched until I saw that it was Josh’s, his arm wrapping around me. It felt warm and safe, giving me the courage to continue.
“And you know what, I could buy this whole fucking building if I wanted to. Oooooh, I’d love that.” I smiled at him, his beady little eyes not knowing where to look. “And the first thing I would do would be to fire your uncompassionate ass.”
Without thinking, my hand with a mind of its own, I tossed the champagne from my glass onto Mr. Ashton, the wine trickling down his stunned, silent face.
“You want another drink?” Josh asked, unfazed by my apparent outburst or meltdown. I guess it depended on where you rated my mental wellbeing at the time as to what it was categorized.
“No, I think I’m done here. We can go.” A genuine smile spread across my face, his perfect blue eyes were my anchor in a sea of crazy. “Oh in case there was any doubt.” I glanced back at Mr. Ashton. “I resigned. The rest of my leave can serve as my required notice. Or not. I don’t care.” My body turned back to Josh and I nodded. “Okay, definitely done, let’s go.”
“Great.” He grabbed my hand, bringing it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. “Let’s go.”
Every single pair of eyes in the room were on us. But I didn’t care and neither did Josh as he strode calmly to the front door.
“What the hell happened to you?” Oliver—the man seriously was a dumbass—called out from behind us. “When did you turn into a crazy bitch?”
I didn’t turn, not bothering to give him any more attention and instead threw the words over my shoulder. “When I started realizing that I deserved better.”
It was the last thing I was ever going to say to him. To Oliver. Mr. Ashton. And anyone else who thought I was a bitch. They could start a little club with matching T-shirts and burn my picture in effigy. I no longer cared.
“The red Tesla.” Josh handed the ticket to the valet, not having said anything else until we’d reached the street.
“Didn’t you just get here?” The pimply face man-child looked at the ticket and then back to us.
“Yes, but I need to have passionate sex with my boyfriend, so be a sport and go get our car please.” My bitch mode obviously stuck.
“Okay, sure.” The valet took the hint and left to retrieve my car.
“You want to talk about it?” Josh wrapped his arms around me, kissing my forehead. “Because we don’t have to, but I will tell you that it was pretty fucking badass.”
“I think we can safely say we know what will be included in this week’s art review. Eve Thorton epic breakdown, funnily enough I can’t make myself give a shit.” I leaned into him, loving the way my body fit against his. “Guess this wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
“Well for one, it got me this sweet suit.” His arms lifted off me momentarily as he extended them to his side. “And you love the suit.”
“Yes, I do.” I laughed, running my hands down the front of the jacket. “So one good thing came of it.”
“And for second.” He lowered his head and kissed me gently. “And the most important thing is that you stood up for yourself and know that you don’t want to waste your time anymore. That is better than anything you’re ever going to draw.”
“Aww, Josh.” My eyes were starting to get teary. “Don’t make me cry, I’m not wearing waterproof mascara.”
“Then don’t cry. Give me a smile instead.”
On command, my lips spread into a smile just for him. Because obviously he was a magician. Or a saint. Maybe when I’d called him Tattoo Jesus in the early days, I’d been close to the mark. He definitely felt like more than just a man.
Before there was anymore crying or smiling, my car pulled up to the curb. The valet handed Josh the keys and
we both got into the car.
“Let’s go back to my apartment tonight.” My head leaned against the headrest. “I know it means we will have to get up earlier in the morning to get to Queens, but I really want my own bed tonight, and I’d love if you were in it with me.”
“Of course.” He moved one of his hands off the wheel and gave my knee a squeeze. “Anything for you.”
We drove down the streets in an easy silence. I’m sure Josh had questions but he was gracious enough not to ask them and I was enjoying the gentle rock of the car as we navigated through Manhattan. He’d even turned the radio down, the whatever-was-playing barely a whisper through the speakers as I stared out the window.
I loved the city at night.
I love the lights, and the noise, and the movement. That even though the sun had gone to bed, people were still on the streets. The vibrancy, the energy—it was the city’s heartbeat, and I hadn’t listened to it in a while.
“I should have left a long time ago,” I heard myself say. “You told me I should love what I do and I lied. I love my art but I never loved the gallery. I should have left a long time ago.”
“Well, maybe you needed time. It’s all a journey, isn’t it?”
He was so fucking wise. I wish I could be that fucking smart, have it all worked out.
How could I tell him that I hadn’t even needed the job. That I had an obscene trust fund that if I was even a halfway decent person I’d be embarrassed about. That I could continue to live my lifestyle as I’ve been living it, and still leave a sizeable inheritance to whichever poor human was tragically cursed to be my child when I left this mortal earth. That I had zero excuse for staying at Lenore other than it gave me an excuse to not give a hundred percent to what I should have been doing in the first place.
How could I tell him that, despite everything I’d said and done, I’d really just been a coward?
God, I didn’t think I could stand it.
The disappointment.
His in me, and mine in myself.