Work of Art

by Monica Alexander

  He squinted in the bright mid-day sunshine and hitched his backpack higher on his shoulder. “It didn’t look like nothing.”

  “Well, it was,” I said tersely, wondering what sort of sarcastic comment he was going to make next. As of late, anyone who spoke to me was sure to berate me in some way, and I was sure he was no exception.

  “You’re pretty talented,” he said, as he dropped his bag and sat next to me on the ground.

  I looked over at him like he had two heads.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Sitting. Is that cool?”

  I sighed. “Just say whatever it is you wanted to say and leave,” I told him, too exhausted to even fight back.

  In the beginning I had responded, and I had attempted to defend myself against the sarcastic remarks and false allegations people threw at me, but now it was just too much. Nothing I said mattered. My stepfather had stolen millions of dollars from people I went to school with, so I’d basically been living my semi-charmed life courtesy of them. And because of that, I was a leper and no longer worthy of their friendship or consideration. Never mind the fact that I had no idea George was skimming money off of his clients. I was sixteen. I had no control over the family finances. I got an allowance, and I had no reason to assume the money hadn’t been legitimately earned.

  That’s what I got for assuming. And everyone felt it was their duty to stand up for what their families had lost and take their anger out of me. The worst part was that most of the people I knew had barely been affected by my stepfather. They still had millions in the bank. I now had nothing.

  And I hadn’t been sleeping well either, so my mental capacity for sharp-witted jabs was lacking. And my words didn’t do me any good anyway. Money was power in the world I lived in, and I no longer had any, so I had no power.

  “Okay,” Ryan said, seeming sort of taken aback by my harshness. He ran a hand through his blond hair. “Can I take you out on Friday night?”

  I looked at him in annoyed confusion and finally rolled my eyes. “No.”

  He looked surprised, and I was sure that was why his friends had sent him over. No one ever said no to Ryan Carson when he asked them out. Not that he did it often, but when you were deemed worthy by him, you said yes. I had no delusions that this was a legitimate ask-out. I was sure he was doing it to see if I’d say yes, and then he’d embarrass me by not showing up or by sticking me with the check.

  “Uh, why?”

  “Because I don’t date assholes,” I clarified, although I wasn’t entirely sure Ryan was an asshole. He’d always been nice to me, but he had assholes for friends, and they tended to travel in packs, so maybe he was just a really good actor.

  “Good to know, because I’m not an asshole.”

  I shook my head in annoyance. “Go away, Ryan.”

  He smiled, and I hated that I found him even more gorgeous with his freaking dimples and bright blue eyes that lit up as he grinned at me.

  “No,” he responded jovially.

  “Well, I am so not in the mood for this shit, so I think I’ll just go.”

  I started to stand, but he stood at the same time and grabbed my arm. I wheeled around to face him, and saw that the grin had dropped from his face.

  “Harper, don’t go. I’m being serious. Look, I’ve seen the way everyone’s been treating you and that Cami and Danielle stopped talking to you, and I think it’s shitty. I’m sorry about what’s going on with your family. It must be really hard for you, and I figured you might need a friend.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him, not sure I believed him.

  He offered me a tentative smile. “I’m being legitimate. Truthfully, I’d been thinking about asking you out for a while now, and it’s unfortunate that this whole thing with your dad happened–”

  “Stepdad,” I interrupted him.

  I’d never really liked George, and even though it had been a shock to learn that he wasn’t my real father, I was sort of relieved. He was odd, and he hadn’t paid me much attention growing up, outside of throwing money at me, and I suddenly felt compelled to distance myself from him even further after what he’d done. I was glad I didn’t share genes with the man.

  “Oh, okay, your stepdad. Sorry. Anyway, I was going to ask you out before it all happened, but I was sort of trying to work up the nerve, and today I saw you sitting here, and you looked like you needed someone to talk to, so I figured I’d take a shot.”

  “So you’re legitimately asking me out?” I asked, still not sure I believed him.

  “Legitimately. I want to pick you up, take you to dinner, maybe see a movie, and at the end of the night I want to kiss you.”

  I blushed and looked down, not wanting him to see the smile that had started to creep up on my face. He reached out with his hand and tilted my chin up so I had to look at him, his eyes searching mine for a response. He smirked when he saw how flushed my cheeks were.

  I had limited experience with guys, so the thought of him alluding to kissing me made me all weak-kneed and tingly. He had really full, gorgeous lips.

  “So?” he prompted.

  I swallowed to buy time, hoping to sound witty with my response. “You’re so sure the date will go well that you’ll get to kiss me at the end?” I asked as casually as I could.

  He shrugged. “I’m fairly confident. Like I said, I’ve been wanting to ask you out for a while now, but I was trying to work up the nerve.”

  “You had to work up the nerve to ask me out?” I asked incredulously, and he grinned.

  He smiled, his dimples popping. “You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever met, Harper. Yes, I had to work up the courage.”

  “Okay,” I said, after a few seconds of silence, really hoping this wasn’t a practical joke.

  “Seriously?” he asked, seeming sort of surprised that I’d said yes.

  “Yes, I’ll go,” I clarified. “Your flattery totally won you points.”

  “Just wait until you kiss me,” he teased. Then he started to walk backward away from me. “I’ll be at your house at seven on Friday.”

  “Okay,” I said, feeling happy for the first time in weeks.

  Ryan Fucking Carson. He’d had my heart from day one, I thought as I got up and dipped a brush into purple paint.

  ‘LIAR’ I painted in large purple letters over the blackened heart. It was what Ryan was. He was a liar. And an asshole. And a guy I couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how hard I tried.

  He’d invaded my life after eleven fucking years! I dipped back into the black and was slashing the sheet as a murderer might slash though a body, letting every bit of my anger pour out of me and onto my canvas.

  I would do everything in my power to let him go, to forget about him and never think about him again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ryan

  I was sitting at the bar in the kitchen drinking a beer when the lock in the front door clicked. I quickly shoved the piece of paper I’d been looking at for the past hour, ever since Brandon had given it to me on his way out the door, into my pocket. It had Harper’s cell number on it, and all I could think about was calling her.

  “Baby, what are you doing home?” Trish asked, as soon as she came through the door. Her eyes lit up, but then they clouded over. “Why are you drinking a beer? It’s two-thirty in the afternoon.”

  I shrugged. “How was the weekend?” I asked, deflecting her question, as I got off the barstool and pulled her into my arms.

  It felt good to hold her. It made me feel a little more stable after the rollercoaster weekend I’d had with Harper Connelly at the forefront of my mind.

  “It was great. We had so much fun at the spa, and then we got a little crazy at one of the wineries that was nearby, but not too crazy.”

  I felt like laughing. Crazy for Trish was getting buzzed. I wouldn’t tell her that I was drunk off my ass for three quarters of the weekend.

  “I’m glad you had fun, but I’m also glad you’re home.”

 
; I knew I been complaining about her, but at the end of the day, she made my life better, and she’d been there for me when things had gone to complete shit. I shouldn’t be so hard on her.

  She smiled. “I thought you had to work today.”

  “I did earlier,” I lied. “The office was closed for the Fourth of July, so I took some calls from here and got on email.”

  Yeah, I’d pretty much had the pretense of doing that, but then I’d opened my inbox to see I had a hundred new emails and closed my laptop pretty much right after. I hated my job. It sucked, and the next day when I went in I knew it would be non-stop work, and I wouldn’t be home before eleven. I was seriously too old for this shit.

  Brandon had echoed those same sentiments to me on Saturday night when he’d waxed on for a good hour about how he was going to quit his job, move out here, buy a winery and relax for once in his life. Then we’d driven out to Sonoma the day before and toured the winery he was looking to buy. And I have to say, it was a pretty sweet set up. There was a house on the property, a few hundred acres of land, a state of the art facility, and a tasting room.

  If I was smart I’d follow in his footsteps and change my life before it was too late, but I’d been working in banking for almost ten years. I wasn’t sure I knew how to do anything else other than kill myself for my clients, work long hours, and play corporate politics. I wasn’t even sure what would make me happy, but Brandon had found something that would make him happy, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous.

  “That’s good,” Trish said, looking up at me adoringly. I loved when she looked at me like that. “I have a ton of calls to make about the benefit on Saturday night since I’m not going to be there which makes me sick, but there is just no other way around it. I have to be in Monterey by Saturday afternoon.”

  “You do? Since when?”

  What I was really thinking was, ‘hooray, no boring benefit for some unknown charity!’. Okay, that was mean, but even if we didn’t go, I was still writing a check. We just went to one a week it seemed like, and sometimes I just wanted to stay home.

  “I’m meeting our mothers there to finalize the wedding plans. I’ll be there all weekend with them.”

  “You will? Our mothers are coming out here?”

  Shit.

  “Yes,” she said, feigning exasperation. “I tell you, sometimes I don’t think you listen to me at all, Ryan Carson.” She finally released me and walked over to the refrigerator. “I’ll be so glad when this wedding planning is over and we can just concentrate on being husband and wife.”

  Yeah, because that’s what’s been holding me back from being a good listener.

  “I’m actually looking forward to our honeymoon,” I said, getting up from my seat and moving behind her where she stood staring into the vastness that was our refrigerator.

  I landed my lips on her neck and started to suck gently, and I couldn’t help it. I was so fucking horny, that I inadvertently poked her in the ass, which garnered all sorts of dirty thoughts and succeeded in making me want to rip her clothes off even more.

  She immediately squirmed away from me as soon as she felt how hard I was.

  “Ryan!” she cried, spinning away from me, but at least she was grinning.

  I grinned sheepishly back at her. “I can’t help it. I missed you.”

  “You are awful. Control yourself. It’s only four more weeks – less than that actually.”

  I groaned. “Four weeks. That’s practically a lifetime. Can I at least get a blow job?”

  I hated to ask. It sounded so pathetic and a little insensitive since I’d always been in the mindset that pushing a girl’s head toward your crotch was just rude, but it had been two months since anyone but me had touched me below the waist. It was getting a little ridiculous. We lived together, slept in the same bed, and had sex before!

  Trish gasped in astonishment at my request. “No. Ryan, that’s gross.”

  “Since when? You used to do it when we were dating.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Yeah, well, I’ve never been a big fan of it.”

  Um, does that mean no blow jobs for the rest of my life? Seriously?

  “Come on, baby. You’re good at it. Please.”

  She sighed. “Ry, I’m feeling really crampy okay. I’m starting my period tomorrow, and I need to get to the gym. I barely worked out all weekend, and I’m feeling all fat and bloated.”

  Eww. Didn’t need to know that much detail.

  She grabbed a water from the fridge and moved past me.

  “Sex is a workout,” I called after her.

  “Love you,” she called over her shoulder as she headed to the bedroom.

  I growled under my breath as she walked away from me.

  * * *

  The next day at work I was having trouble concentrating. I’d never realized it before, but if I stood at the corner of my office and looked left, I could just see the corner where Harper’s tattoo parlor was located. So I’d subsequently spent the entire morning on the phone with clients, standing at the window just waiting to see if she’d appear. She never did. Of course I was also ten stories up, so I might have missed her.

  Right around twelve-thirty, my phone rang.

  “Ryan Carson.”

  “Hi, it’s me,” Trish said.

  “Hey baby. What’s up?”

  “I wanted to see if you might be able to have lunch today. I feel bad we didn’t get to see each other this weekend, and I know you’re probably working late, like usual, so I figured I’d see if I could squeeze in some Ry Time.”

  I smiled. I liked when she called it Ry Time. It made me feel important.

  “Yeah, sure, I can get away for about thirty minutes.”

  “Great! How about sushi?”

  I’d eaten sushi the day before with Brandon, but she didn’t know that. I was actually craving an Italian sub, but that was probably because there was a deli I’d been staring at all morning as I’d been playing creepy stalker. It was directly across from Harper’s parlor.

  I couldn’t believe I was actually going to suggest it, but I reasoned that it had been in my line of vision all morning, so it had nothing to do with Harper. I just wanted a sub. Brandon had reintroduced me to a whole world of foods that I’d forgotten I loved, and I planned on re-exploring all of them.

  “Actually, I’m kind of craving a sub. Can we go to the deli that’s around the corner from my office?”

  “A deli? Do they have low carb options?”

  I’m guessing no.

  “Yeah. I’m sure they do.”

  “Okay, good, because I’m really dieting this week. Seriously, no carbs and no sugar of any kind. I was so bad this weekend!”

  “Hon, you look great. Don’t kill yourself over trying to look perfect.”

  She laughed. “That’s my job, especially as your future wife. You’ve seen the women attached to guys at your firm. I want to make sure you’re always proud to have me on your arm.”

  She was mostly referring to my firm in Boston. The San Francisco office was much more relaxed.

  “Trish, you look beautiful. I’ll always be proud to have you on my arm.”

  “Aww, you’re sweet, but I’m still not eating carbs.”

  “Fine. Do whatever you want.”

  I’m sure as hell eating carbs. I might even go to McDonalds. Things could get crazy!

  “I’ll meet you in ten minutes,” she said, as my partner, Melinda sidled into my office and settled down on the end of my couch.

  “See you soon.”

  “Lunch with the wifey?” Melinda asked with just a touch of bitter in her tone.

  She was irritated because the guy she’d been dating for the past five months had broken up with her over the weekend. She’d told me all about it over coffee that morning. And I told her that had I known I would have told Brandon to call her while he was in town. She’d always had a thing for him. I was pretty sure she was mad at me now because we hadn
’t called her to hang out. Melinda was cool. She was a true guy’s girl, and when the three of us had worked together in Boston, she’d been right there with Brandon and me pounding back beers. I enjoyed her.

  “Yes, Trish is meeting me in a few minutes,” I said, somewhat coldly.

  Melinda and Trish had never really gotten along. Trish didn’t know what to do with Melinda and her aggressive, no-holds-barred personality. Trish had never had many male friends, and she couldn’t understand why Mel would want to be friends with me and not sleep with me. And I could never sufficiently explain it to her.

  “Enjoy. Will you be back by one-thirty?”

  “Yes,” I said, easing back in my chair. “I haven’t forgotten we’re going over the presentation for tomorrow’s meeting. I’ll be there.”

  “Good,” she said as she rose to her feet. “Because I’ve been a little worried about you lately. You’ve been off your game for the past month or so.”

  I sat up all at once. “I haven’t missed one deadline.”

  She cocked her head to the side. “You also haven’t put in the same effort you used to. I want to be sure you’re not losing your edge.”

  “I’m in at seven every day, and I’m here until almost nine every night,” I defended.

  Hell, I’d hardly seen Trish I’d been working so much.

  “And I’m always here until at least ten,” she said, shrugging nonchalantly. “But it’s not always about how much time you put in but how much effort you expel, and I’m here to tell you, you’re slipping, and the higher-ups are noticing.”

  “That’s bullshit,” I said, rising to my feet.

  “You know it’s not, Ryan. I’m telling you as a friend that I just think you need to take a step back and really examine how much you want this. You used to be a lot hungrier.”

  I could have responded, but she was right. I used to love what I did so much that I’d lived and breathed my job. Hell, I’d even uprooted my life and moved across the country for it, but I wasn’t a hundred percent sure she wasn’t right. In the past few months, something had changed.

  “I’ll be back by one-thirty, and I’ll meet you in your office,” I told her, not giving her the satisfaction of a response to her accusation, mostly because I wasn’t exactly sure what to tell her.