“No thanks,” I said. “I’ll keep my eyesight.”
We were in the taxi for more than twenty minutes before we reached our destination and Trey paid the driver, holding the door open for me as I stepped out onto the sidewalk and stared at the building in front of us. It looked like an apartment building of some kind.
“What is this place?” I asked as the taxi pulled away.
“I’ll show you,” Trey said as he led me inside. We took an elevator to the top floor and when the doors opened I found myself staring into a loft apartment that looked strangely similar, despite my never have been there before.
The apartment didn’t look lived in, and it took me a moment to realize what Trey had done as I stepped inside and looked around. Trey walked ahead of me, pulling me by the hand.
“I know the kitchen is in the lower level,” he said. “But if you can ignore that part, I think you’ll find I did a pretty good job.”
I didn’t understand exactly what he was getting at until we climbed the single stairway inside and I found that he’d recreated my loft at The Waking Moon, right down to the details. My easel stood in the corner, and all of my art supplies were set up on a table against the wall. His guitar was propped up against the wall opposite us in the same spot he always set it down back home. I was completely speechless.
“I know things have been crazy lately,” he said. “You went to so much trouble the other night to surround me with water and all the things that I love about home. I wanted to do the same thing for you. What do you think?”
“I ... it’s perfect,” I stuttered. “I can’t believe you did this. I love it.”
Trey pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. “I love you.” Then he raised my chin with his fingers and brought his lips down on mine. The kiss was sweet, but short. Trey pulled back but didn’t let go of me. “We can stay all night if you want,” he said, gesturing with one arm to the space around us. “I rented this place for the whole month. The landlord was a stickler.” He laughed and then said, “Oh, I almost forgot. Hold on.” He went back down the stairs and I stared in amazement at the blank canvas that sat before me. I heard a refrigerator door open and close and Trey was back in an instant with two cans of Root Beer. He popped the tops on them both and handed one to me.
“To creating beautiful art,” he toasted.
“Cheers,” I said, clinking my can with his and making foam pour out the hole. I laughed and sipped at it quickly.
“There goes the cleaning deposit,” Trey teased.
I smacked him playfully on the chest and gazed around in silent wonder. “You have no idea how much I need this,” I told him.
“I think I do,” he countered as he put a hand on the small of my back and eased me over to the canvas he’d set up. He took my drink and set it on the table, placing a long brush in my hand. I felt his lips on the back of my neck, sending sweet shivers down my spine. Then he kicked his shoes off, sat down on the floor and picked up his acoustic guitar, checking the tuning of the strings.
Just like old times.
I smiled, wondering what on earth I was going to paint. All the stress and craziness that had been building for weeks laid itself down in paint, one decisive, therapeutic layer at a time. Trey’s strumming and soft singing acted as the perfect soundtrack to my tale as I told a story on the canvas, one I could never have worked out in my mind, or heart, without the aid of a brush. I laid it all out in color, letting the tension that had come with it escape through my brush, as well. I felt myself physically relaxing as I painted into the night, and couldn’t help but wonder what chaos tomorrow might bring to replace everything I was letting go of. It would never end, not as long as Trey and I were on the earth. But as long as nights like this existed –nights where Trey and I could escape into our own little fantasy world – I could face whatever surprises tomorrow might have in store.
Chapter 38
Aurora
I CALLED TREY AS soon as I got out of the meeting. The woman I’d met with was named Lilly. She was Mr. Sullivan’s assistant, the art collector who had asked her to get in touch with me after he’d seen some of my paintings in Florida during a recent business trip. The best part was that this job offer had nothing to do with my appearance alongside Trey in Rolling Stone.
“Hey,” Trey said when he answered. His voice was eager with anticipation. “How did it go? Tell me everything.”
“It was amazing,” I told him as I flagged a taxi. “The art collector wants me to commission five new pieces and bring seven others along for a gala that he’s putting on here in New York.”
“That’s great,” Trey exclaimed. “I knew you’d get it.”
I climbed in to the taxi that pulled over to the curb for me and handed the driver a napkin with the address I needed to go to. “Thanks,” I told Trey.
“So, what are the details?” he asked. “When is this gala happening?”
“Well, that’s just it,” I said slowly. The good news was marred only by what I had to say to him next. “This is all happening a little fast. His assistant says he wants me back here in New York with the paintings in two weeks.” Trey was silent for a second, and I wondered if he was trying to calculate how much time I usually spent on a painting.
“Is that even possible?” he finally asked. “Five new pieces in two weeks....”
“I think so,” I told him. “I mean, if I want the job I don’t have much of a choice.”
“Right,” Trey conceded. “Of course. If anyone can do it, you can. They definitely picked the right woman for the job.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“When are you flying back?” he asked me. “We’ll celebrate for real this time.”
“That’s just it,” I said, and my heart clenched a little as I continued. “Trey ... I – I can’t paint these on the road. It’s just too much. The job is too important, and frankly, the sizes they want me to paint are just too big. I’m going to have to go back to The Waking Moon to work on this and choose the other pieces to send. There’s really no way around it.”
“Oh,” he said. “Sure. That makes sense.” But I could tell he was devastated by the news.
“I’m really sorry,” I said softly. “I didn’t expect-”
“Hey,” Trey interrupted. “Don’t apologize. You need to do whatever it takes to get this project done and done right. This is huge for you. This is what we do. We support each other’s dreams. No one is better at that than you’ve been for me. Besides, I know you’ve been dreaming of your work spreading beyond Florida, and all the tourists, for years.” I let out a soft laugh at hearing his words, and he continued. “I love you more than anything in this entire world. You know that right?”
“Of course I do.”
“Good. Now, I want you to go back to The Waking Moon and paint like you’ve never painted before. You’re going to blow their minds at that gala two weeks from now.”
Trey was doing his best to be supportive, even though it meant not seeing me for what seemed like an eternity, and I loved him dearly for it.
“You’re amazing,” I told him. “Have I told you that?”
“You have now,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his tone.
The next week and a half passed by in a blur of painting and doing shots of blood whenever I had a chance. I hardly left The Waking Moon, except for the late mornings when I would drag myself back to the house and sneak in a few hours of sleep before getting up to do it all over again. Trey called me when he could. Things were especially crazy with the band since they’d officially released “Mirage” as their new single. In between the usual press during the day and concerts at night, the guys also filmed an appearance on Good Morning America and another on The Tonight Show. I had to record both shows on my DVR and watch them when I was back at the mansion, but at least that way I got to talk to Trey while I watched.
I’d been commissioned to do pieces before, which meant I’d worked on a deadline before, but I’
d never agreed to something so stressful as this gala. Picking the pieces I wanted to send ahead for the gala was easy. Getting five new pieces finished before then was not. Kacie kept things running smoothly, as usual, while I worked tirelessly to turn the half-hazard ideas I’d sketched on the plane ride to Florida into masterpiece paintings worthy of bearing my name in New York for everyone to see. Kacie felt the need to bring me caffeinated drinks and meals, and I knew that she worried when I barely stopped to touch the food, but she knew expecting more from me while I was so busy was a losing battle. By the end the tenth day back home I was finally finished. I was pretty sure I didn’t want to so much as look at a blank canvas for a while, but I’d find inspiration in something again soon. Kacie and I stood, shoulder to shoulder, admiring the paintings one last time before the shipping company would come for them in the morning. We had them all laid out against the bottom of the wall, lined up in a row.
“I can’t believe you did it,” Kacie said.
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I teased.
“I mean, of course you did it,” she added quickly. “I just can’t believe you did it so well.”
“I’m not about to send something on to New York that I wouldn’t want hanging here in Clearwater,” I told her.
“No problem there,” she said, taking a step back to get a better perspective. “I think this one is my favorite,” she mused, stepping sideways to stand before the three-canvas spread I’d done of the moon. Unlike some of the other paintings in the collection, this piece was very colorful. The surface of the bright green moon spanned across the bottom third of the canvases. Little trails of her green color swirled outward and up, reaching toward the outer edges of the painting and sweeping across the spaces between canvases to carry on to the next. Space was several shades of blue, getting lighter as you looked higher up the painting. Trails of other colors wove in and out, sliding from the tops downward and giving the impression that they could have been created by shooting stars, or comets.
“I like that one, too,” I admitted. “Trey would love it.”
“Speaking of your hubby,” Kacie said, putting a hand on her hip. “You’d better get going if you’re going to make it to the airport on time.
“You’re right,” I told her. “Thanks for everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Starve,” she said with a grin. “That’s for sure.” I laughed and gave her a hug before I grabbed my keys. “Call me when you land to let me know you made it,” she called out as I headed for the back door.
“Are you my babysitter now?” I teased.
“Yes!” she replied, making me laugh again.
Chapter 39
Aurora
I WAS DREAMING, BUT I didn’t mind. I’d been away from Trey for too long, and even though I knew somewhere in the back of my mind that the scene playing out before me wasn’t real, I could appreciate every second of it as I slept on the plane. In the dream, I was searching for Trey at the venue. I made my way to the side of the stage and saw him there during soundcheck. He was standing front and center with Liza strapped on, leaning into the microphone and signaling the sound engineer as he sang. I took a few steps onto the stage, and he turned and caught sight of me. He grinned and gestured with a jerk of his head for me to come on out. I smiled and danced over to him, running my hand through his hair. He turned to face me without missing a word and slammed on his guitar, watching me with blazing blue eyes as I danced.
I saw the moment of decision on his face right before he said, “Screw it,” into the microphone. With one quick, decisive move he slid his guitar around to his back and pulled me to him. Suddenly his lips came crashing down on mine as the music played on without him. The intensity of his kiss was overwhelming, as was the feeling of his heart as it thrummed against my palms. I’d missed the sound and feel of it more than I’d known. The rush that came when Trey’s emotions collided with my own was enough to make my knees weak. I was suddenly very grateful that he had a hold of me. I heard a loud whistle from behind and knew that Chase was at least enjoying the show. When the kiss ended Trey didn’t let go of me. I stared into his eyes, and that half-smile that drives me mad stretched across his face.
“Welcome back,” he said, his voice low and husky.
“Get a room,” O’Shea called out. “Or a bus.”
Trey held my gaze a moment longer before he turned back to the microphone just in time to sing the chorus. I smiled, feeling lighter than air as I walked over to the raised stand Chase’s drums occupied and sat down there. Even the crashing sound of his cymbals ringing out behind me couldn’t detract from the sheer bliss I felt at being back with Trey. Back where his sandpaper voice could surround me like a warm blanket.
Back where I belonged.
The sound of the pilot’s voice announcing that the plane was descending pulled me out of the blissful dream and back into reality. I was okay with that. It was a short flight to my home city of Chicago, and landing only meant I was that much closer to being in Trey’s arms for real.
Trey and the guys were taping a little acoustic set for a telethon to raise money for veterans. Neon came out to the front doors of the building to help me get inside. The guys were in the middle of playing “Mirage,” which was their last song, when Neon and I walked into the room. Trey was busy singing into the cameras and playing his guitar, and didn’t even notice I was there until the song ended. When the cameras turned off and he was free to go Trey got to his feet and handed his guitar to Chase, who accepted it with mild confusion until he looked around and spotted me.
Trey jogged over to me, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me off the floor a ways.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” he said, hugging me close.
“I missed you, too,” I said, grinning. He leaned down and kissed me long and hard, just like I’d been dreaming about the entire flight here.
When he finally pulled back he couldn’t stop smiling at me. He shook his head like he wasn’t sure any of it was real. “When did you get here?”
“During the last song,” I said as Neon walked past us, grinning. “I wouldn’t have made it without Neon’s help.”
“You’re welcome,” Neon called out, grinning.
“I owe you,” Trey called back to him.
“You usually do,” he added. Trey and I both laughed, feeling completely giddy.
“Let’s get out of here,” Trey said, gesturing with a nod to the exit.
“You’re good to go?” I asked him.
“I’m good,” he said, waving at Neon. “Catch you guys later,” he called out to the other guys.
“Glad you’re back,” O’Shea said to me.
“Me, too,” I told him before I went with Trey to the double-doors I’d just come through moments before.
“Wow,” Trey said as we hailed a cab. “I ... I’m just so glad to see you.”
“I wanted to surprise you,” I said. “I finished up a few days early and I just had to come.”
“You surprised me, all right,” he said as he opened up the door for the cab that had just pulled over for us.
“Where to?” the driver asked once Trey was inside next to me.
Trey looked at me and said, “We’re in your hometown. Anywhere you want to go?”
I considered him for a moment, biting my lip. I knew that Catalyst had two sold-out shows scheduled here and I’d been daydreaming about what Trey and I would do in our spare time in the city. When the gala job had taken over my life, I wasn’t sure I’d even get to see the city with him. Now that I was here, I knew exactly where I wanted to take him. I gave the driver an address and smiled at Trey. He didn’t even ask, content just to wrap his arm around my shoulders and hold me close to him for the drive.
Trey and I talked about everything that had gone on during the last ten days. So much had happened while we’d been apart. I was so caught up in our conversation that it took me a moment to realize where we were when the driver pul
led off to the side of the road and put the car in park.
“Here you are,” he said.
“We’re not going inside,” I told him as I gazed out the window. “Just stay here for a bit.”
“Where are we?” Trey asked, following my gaze.
“This is where I grew up,” I told him as I stared at the large house in front of us. Not much had changed since I’d been here last. A tree in the front yard was missing, but the house looked exactly the same. The current owner hadn’t even changed the color of the paint. It was almost easy to believe it hadn’t been years since I’d walked out the front door for the last time and got on a plane for Florida with Antonio.
“This was your house?” Trey asked quietly.
I nodded. “It looks almost exactly like I remember,” I told him. “It’s weird ... seeing it now.”
Trey squeezed my hand and gazed out the window in silence with me. I pointed at the window on the far left side on the second story and said, “That was my room.” Trey smiled at me and waited patiently for me to continue. “The room next to mine was Aden’s. And that room down there,” I said, pointing again. “That was the room that mom and dad let us turn into what we called our studio. It wasn’t anything like your home studio,” I said, grinning at him, “but I used to hang my paintings in there to dry and Aden used to develop his photographs inside. The windows used to be covered up because he needed the room to be dark for that.” I smiled at the thought. “I haven’t let myself think about this stuff for a long time,” I admitted.
“Why is that?” Trey asked softly.
“It’s easier not to,” I told him. “Sometimes it just hurts too much.” He squeezed my hand again and I forced a smile for him. “Having you here makes it easier.” Then I looked out at the house again and said, “My fascination with Root Beer began right on those front steps. Dad used to bring Aden and I a can and visit on those steps with us when he’d get back from a business trip. We’d all sit around sitting Root Beer and listening to his stories about all the different places he visited for work.”
Fangs And Fame Page 20