“This is your house?” I said, staring at the long driveway past the gates to the huge colonial mansion at the far end. Who was this girl? And how could someone this rich be a subject of what I saw last night? A million more questions entered my mind. None of which had reasonable answers. What kind of place had I come to? What kind of people were these?
“Anais,” I began.
“No more questions please,” Anais said, taking her voice down so the security men who neared the car couldn’t hear. I didn’t fail to notice her whispered tone as they approached. She opened the car door, one of her legs stepping out.
“Wait!” I said louder than probably what I intended. I didn’t want to let her go so quickly.
She turned her head and shook it at me. Her eyes begging for me to stop talking. To let her go. The two security men were at the Mustang, and Anais swallowed hard seeing their faces. Before one was at her car door, she turned to face me one last time.
“James...” She smiled softly and sweetly as she considered her next words. “Thank you...for ...everything.”
I didn’t even get a chance to respond before the two men helped her out of the car and towards the gate and out of view. In that moment, I was cursing my decision to come to the United States, but at the same time, I knew it was the best choice I had ever made.
{5}
I groggily pulled myself out of bed just before 10am. My alarm on my cell alerting me to my appointment. I was meeting Professor Aston in thirty minutes. As much as I tried to focus on my meeting, all that was going through my mind was Anais. Anais, Anais, Anais. Who was this girl? And how do I find her again? I didn’t think I could just appear on her doorstep, especially after what I saw last night. I had to find another way to see her and make sure she was okay and find out why those guys were tying her up to a tree. I knew I should have just let it all go. It wasn’t my business. Plus, it seemed she had a mountain of baggage she was carrying around, stuffed with something dangerously strange and unusual. Not the type of baggage I would generally carry myself, especially for a girl. But I wasn’t deterred by the sadness or the mystery or even the threat I could feel this girl was already under. In fact, there was a part of me that felt like I was now part of her story. I was drawn to it like it was part of me too, and I had to know more. I had to know her.
Marcus was already sitting in the lounge when I appeared from out of my bedroom, freshly showered and looking somewhat presentable and alert for my meeting. He was sitting on the sofa with a huge cheesy grin on his face when I walked towards the kitchen, running my hand through my wet hair. When he saw me walk out he nodded his head in my direction. The guy’s way of saying hello. I made the same head movement back as I bee-lined for the fridge. When Marcus had shown me his beer exhibit yesterday I had also noticed he also had orange juice as well. I would need to find a grocery store and get some food so I wouldn’t have to continue to sponge off him. But I needed the juice today. Something refreshing to take the edge off one of the weirdest nights of my life.
As I poured myself a glass of OJ, Marcus began moving trying to get comfortable on the couch, but I think he was doing it to get my attention. Marcus couldn’t stay quiet for very long.
“Hey man, thanks for bringing Betty home last night,” he spoke up.
“No problem,” I said in between taking big gulps from my glass.
Marcus began nodding his head up and down. His smile getting even wider. I knew I should ask why he was purposely showing off some kind of satisfied grin, but I wasn’t sure I had enough time to spare, especially given Marcus’ verbal marathon he welcomed me with yesterday. Marcus however, didn’t wait for me to ponder on curiosity.
“So...guess what my new friend?...I’m in love.”
I almost spat the juice out of my mouth. I coughed before I could say anything back. “You’re...in...love?” I said the words in a slow robotic voice.
Marcus sighed. Yes...sighed. “Yep. Well at least, I think it’s love. Last night I was with a girl who looked like Amber Heard. Seriously, she was the hottest girl I’ve ever seen...and she did things to me...” He shook his head in pure astonishment, remembering the details like it had blown his mind.
I raised my eyebrows, still surprised. “Love huh?”
“Yeah...big time.” He looked like a schoolboy in some kind of drug-induced daze. Still, I had my doubts. Granted I had only known Marcus for a day, but I get a sense of people pretty quickly, and after a few conversations with Marcus already, I didn’t think he’d start spouting declarations of love. This was a guy who professed to be all about the quantity of women less than twelve hours ago. I rinsed out my glass, and grabbed my bike keys, thinking about how to best to get Marcus to open his eyes. Then it came to me. It was simple, yet easy.
“So what’s the name of your new lady love?” I asked, checking my cell. There were at least five messages from my mother that I knew I had to respond to or she would start worrying. I looked up from my cell to see Marcus tilting his head in the same exact movement he had yesterday when he tried to think about the story of Betty when she was once called Cherry. The same back story he couldn’t remember.
“Her name?” he said, sounding both confused and embarrassed.
I shook my head and snorted. My instinct was right. I also noted that Marcus was the type of guy to jump to emotional conclusions very quickly. Living with him will definitely be entertaining.
“Wait...just wait...it’s coming to me.” His hand tapped his head. “Wait, I’ve got it. Her name’s Erica!” Marcus scratched his chin. “Or was it Danielle?”
I smirked. “Yeah sure Marcus...it’s love,” I deadpanned.
Marcus kicked his coffee table in frustration as I walked out. “Damn it!” he said to himself.
I continued to laugh at Marcus as I hurried out the door and down to the garage. When I reached the garage, I breathed a long sigh of relief. Finally I was reconnected with my own lady love. It’s quite easy to fall in love with an inanimate object you know. Cobalt blue and midnight black were the colors painted on my motorbike next to the bright silver steel and black seat. I had selected the paint job myself for the Honda CBR 400 RR. I stood for a second feeling my own pride as I stared at my vehicle, just like how Marcus took a second with his car last night. Let me geek out just for a minute shall I? 50 bhp engine and 46 Nm of torque. How could you not love a machine like this? It was everything freedom represented and more. And it was here with me, under my legs. I was in complete and total control. There is no better feeling in the world than when you feel the wind in your hair knowing that no-one and nothing can slow you down. I always felt like I needed to get away and be free. Kind of like a wild stallion. Run, run, run. But I had no demons tying me down or holding me back. No hate, no bad memories, no tragedy to escape from. Only a tiny voice inside me that told me to keep pushing forward, and never look back. Sometimes I did feel like there was something in my subconscious. A whisper on a whisper that something darker existed, but I figured it had to do with the loss of my real Dad. An emotional black hole that I’ll never truly understand.
It took no time to remember how to get back to the campus, but it took a few minutes to figure out where the arts buildings were located. I desperately wanted to stop and take in the campus configuration more, especially some of the architecture, but there was plenty of time for that later. I navigated my way pretty easily through the large arts section, taking an elevator up to the top of the building where Professor Aston’s office was located.
I took a few breaths standing at the Professor’s door before I worked up the nerve to knock. It’s not every day you get to meet your idol. I felt like a thirteen year old fan girl about to meet Justin Bieber. An odd, but accurate comparison, I’ll admit, and not one I’d ever repeat out loud. My palms began sweating as I knocked. It opened immediately to the man I had seen in pictures next to countless articles depicting his work in sculptures and the art world. First place Apollo prize industrial sculpture award for m
odernization. And his sculpture series on capitalism had been praised and even featured in a number of Hollywood motion pictures. You know you’ve arrived when your work is picked up by the yuppies in Beverley Hills and used on the big screen.
The first thing I noticed was his aviator-style glasses on his pale skin. Oval face, brown hair, and sideburns. Lean physique for a forty-something year old man. Brown dress pants, brown belt, long-sleeved pale whitish-blue dress shirt. He stood just as tall as me, and as he shook my hand, I couldn’t help but be in awe of what they had created and how they had influenced and shaped my own work. A crooked smile finding its way to my lips, feeling a sense of overwhelming admiration for this genius who both inspired and moved me.
It was a good day.
“James Riley I presume,” he said, still holding my hand in a manly handshake. My head went blank for a minute as I thought about his question, still caught up in the excitement of it all. I shook my head, trying to get clarity. Yes, I was in this reality and it was fucking surreal. My head wasn’t playing games. I was here. Here with the world famous sculptor, Professor Liam Aston.
I nodded my head up and down enthusiastically, still trying to find my voice. He laughed at my nervousness before I snapped back to cool art guy mode. “Yes, yes I’m James Riley. Nice to meet you Professor Astor, I mean Professor Astim, I mean...” I took a breath, “Professor Aston.”
“Liam please.”
I finally let go of his hand. “Aright, professor, Liam.”
He laughed again. “Take a seat James.” Liam gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk. “And relax.”
I walked over to the beige-colored chair and sat down. I watched Liam take a seat across from me. He had a manila folder in his hands, and when he opened it, pictures that my French Art professor had emailed of my work fell out across the table.
“I’m really happy you decided to come to Cloverley for your final year. I’m very impressed with what I’ve seen so far, especially your designs and work with these in particular.” He pointed to my series of sculptures that were influenced by a brief period of time me and my family resided in Scotland. The castles and landscape as well as the people shaping that particular series.
“Thanks. The inspiration kind of forms in my head like pieces putting themselves together in a three dimensional city or a landscape.”
“Yes, I can certainly see the engineering element to your work. The way they’re constructed. But there is emotion in all of them. And it’s controlled. Like a controlled tug-of-war with the elements. It’s rather extraordinary. So I’m curious James...” He closed the folder and crossed his arms, staring at me. His look made my back straighten and sit upright in my chair. “Where does this come from?”
I think I knew what he meant, but I wanted to be certain before I answered him. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“Where does your inspiration come from? Your childhood? Your worldly travels? Love?”
I considered his question but I could only stare at him speechless, unable to put my answer into words. Probably because it wasn’t a simple answer. My heart wanted to create, and my mind would assemble my vision. They collaborated, based on how I saw the world, what I felt, how I interpreted those feelings when I saw structures or when I experienced something new. It just fell into a picture in my head, piece by piece, play by play. Almost like I could see my hands make a sculpture of my own version of reality mixed with imagination. How do I even begin to explain the inner workings of my three-dimensional, interactive mind?
I cleared my throat. “A true artist is an artist because it’s what they’re born to do. It’s part of their makeup. I see. I feel. I create. It’s individuality, freedom and the beauty of the world that pushes and inspires me.”
Liam smiled warmly at my answer. “Good response James. That’s very good. Based on your work, I can see you’re not the type of person who can be so easily lead astray. I don’t see conformity. I don’t see pack mentality. I don’t see someone who can’t be forced to do something they don’t want to do. I see a real artist with freedom in their heart and beauty in your visual interpretation. Am I right?”
“Yes. Absolutely,” I confirmed. It was like Liam could see exactly who I was through my ability to whittle wood and curve steel. I was beyond impressed with his insight into my soul.
“Great. That’s excellent. I’m pleased that you’re here, and I’m looking forward to your final year piece and paper. And I want you to know that I’ll be watching you closely and you can use me as your guide. If you have questions...or if you just want to talk...I’ll be here...as your professor. Do you understand?”
“Yes. I think I do.”
“Good. Because I want you to feel comfortable coming to me. For anything.” There was a weird pause as he spoke, watching me to see if I really understood. Was I missing something else? I nodded to him coolly, registering his support, although in my head, I was jumping up and down like a crazed fan. It’s not every day your idol offers to be mentor and friend.
“I hope you’re settling into your new surroundings and getting to know the campus too,” he asked. Now that question, I could be clearer about.
“Well...actually...I’m still getting to know the place...I was...”
There was a knock at Liam’s door which stopped me from speaking. “Ah, right on time,” Liam said getting up from his seat and walking over to the door. He opened it and instantly all the hair on my skin stood up. It was her voice that made my body stiffen to attention. “Hi Uncle Liam. I’m here. Where’s this transfer student you wanted me to...”
Anais walked in, saw my face and finished her sentence in slow motion. “Show...around...”
I hadn’t realized that when she entered, I immediately got to my feet, like a gentleman does when a lady enters the room. The shock on her face was undeniable, as was my own, I’m sure.
“James, this is my niece, Anais Aston. She’s in her final year, the same as you, studying philosophy. I’ve asked her here to be your guide for the day. I hope that’s okay. I thought you’d appreciate a tour.”
I stood staring at Anais, not even realizing that Liam had spoke. “James?”
My shoulders shook, registering what the professor had just said. “Oh, uh, yeah. That sounds great. I would love a tour.”
Anais’ hands started fidgeting. Her eyes going back and forth from me to Liam. She took an awkward step back. “Ummm, actually uncle Liam, I came here to tell you that something’s come up, and I...uh...can’t show...sorry, what was your name again?”
Her eyes grew wide at me wanting me to play along.
“My name’s James.”
“Yes. James. I’m sorry Uncle Liam, but I’m not sure I have time to show James around today.”
Anais was wearing a pleated mid-length black skirt, and an apricot-colored blouse that had buttons done up all the way to her neck hiding all the scratches and bruises I had seen last night. If she was purposely hiding them, she had done a good job.
Liam looked at Anais, not convinced. “Anais, I’m sure that whatever you have going on, I can clear your schedule for you. Now, I would really appreciate this favor. Alright?”
She sighed, not putting up any more of a fight. “Of course Uncle Liam. I’d be happy to do this for you.” She began walking back out the door. “Come on James.”
“Wait,” Liam said stopping us both from leaving the room. “I have another idea. Why don’t the two of you come to the invitational dinner together this weekend as well? James needs a date after all.” The professor grinned like it was the best idea in the world. I mentally agreed with him. Though, it was more a statement than a request by Liam. I just looked at Anais wondering if she was going to agree or not. I had forgotten about the invitational dinner scheduled for the weekend with moving and last night’s events. Of course the strained look on her face looked liked she was about to resist. I was already getting used to her backing away every chance she got.
“But Uncle Lia
m, Deacon won’t let...”
“I’ll clear it,” he said, stopping her from saying more. Again, it was not a question but a statement from the professor. That was twice he had said that he would ‘clear it’ for her. I hadn’t missed the wording used, although I was grateful for the set-up. It would give me more time with Anais and I wanted every second I could get.
Anais didn’t refuse any further. “Okay,” she muttered, and left the room. I followed behind her, trying to catch up as she moved at a rapid pace down the hall and out of earshot. When we rounded a corner and walked down another hallway, Anais turned to me, her eyes lit up like they were on fire. I had to admit, I loved seeing such a burst of emotion coming from her right now, even if it was obvious anger.
“We...!” she whisper yelled, pointing her finger back and forth between us, “cannot go to that dinner together. It can’t happen. In fact, I shouldn’t be anywhere near you right now. I can’t show you around.”
I just smiled at her, not folding to her request. Not backing down. Not being understanding. I had already been too lenient to her needs. It was my turn to be selfish.
“Look Anais, I don’t understand what’s going on with you, but your uncle has asked that you’d be so nice as to give me a tour. And you kind of owe me for last night, I think. I’d really hate to tell him you were rude.”
Her back straightened at seeing me not give into her so easily. I don’t think she expected my resistance. “James. I’m not trying to be rude. I’m trying to keep you safe. I’m trying to keep you out of danger. Please, do what I ask. I don’t want anything bad to happen...especially to you. I know I owe you...And that’s what I’m trying to do.”
Her concern for my safety did make me feel all warm and fuzzy, but it was no way a deterrent. “What or who are you trying to keep me safe from? Those guys last night? Please...they were nothing. If they come at me again, it will be the same end result, I assure you. And that’s the other thing. Are we going to talk about what happened? What did I walk in on? And who were those guys and why were they tying you up...”
Fiendish Play Page 4