A New Hope

by M. L. Ray

  I went to my locker, trying not to look at anyone. I knew if everyone found out, they would all be trying to get the details of what really happened. I didn’t want to talk about it. I put my books in my locker and shut it.

  “Taylor!” I turned around and knew who it was because only Jack called me by my last name.

  “What?” I asked with a sigh. He actually looked good today. The ends of his hair were wet from a shower and his blue eyes looked lighter today. Why are you thinking that way? That’s disgusting. You know that, right? I shook myself mentally.

  “I need to talk to you,” he said quietly, putting on a seductive look. I didn’t fall for it.

  “Don’t play with me Jack. What do you want?” He smirked.

  “Grumpy, aren’t we?” I rolled my eyes.

  “Why aren’t you? Your girlfriend just broke up with you!” He just shrugged.

  “Oh, well. Listen, I was thinking last night—.”

  “Finally figured out how to do that?” I teased and he scowled.

  “And I really want Kendra back. And I know you want Grant back. Am I right?” I looked away. Yes, of course I wanted him back! I loved him. “So, my mom gave me an idea.” I looked up at him, finally getting a little intrigued. “Let’s make them jealous!” I stared at him a moment as he grinned like an idiot.

  “And how would we do that?” He sighed and rolled his eyes.

  “We become a couple and fake a relationship. It’s perfect! They’ll see us together and then they’ll want us back! I’m genius!” He jumped up and down and spun around trying not to hit anyone and looked at me. I stared wide eyed at him. Surprised.

  “So?”

  “So what?” I was still reeling from the suggestion. He frowned slightly.

  “Are you in?”

  I pondered it. It was a great plan actually. But I didn’t want to lie! And would Grant really want me back? If he saw me with Jack, would he care? Would he be jealous?

  “I don’t know.” He put his arms down.

  “Lidia! Come on!”

  I remembered when Grant and I were on the beach in California. He’d lay beside me and look at me with love in his eyes.

  “I love you, Ollie,” he’d said. I’d looked at him and smiled.

  “I love you, too,” I kissed him and put my hand on his bare chest.

  “I’ll always love you,” he’d said before kissing my nose. I smiled.

  “Lidia?” I blinked and looked at Jack in front of me. My classmates passed me but didn’t seem to care. I looked out the doors of the school and saw a couple holding hands, walking through the doors. My heart slowly stopped.

  “Grant,” I said and Jack looked in the same direction. His eyes widened. Kendra and Grant held hands smiling like they just won the lottery. Everyone stopped and looked at them, then Jack and I. I looked down. Everyone will know the whole story by the end of the day. Grant and Kendra walked past us and Kendra smiled at me. Grant finally looked at me and smiled. I glared.

  “Hey,” Kendra said to us.

  “Bitch,” Jack muttered. She gasped quietly. Everyone had stopped talking and was watching us. She glared at Jack and I fought the urge to laugh. They went past and disappeared into the crowd. “So, anyhow,” Jack said looking at me as I watched them. “Are you in or out?”

  I couldn’t believe he had the guts to do this to me! After everything we had been through! What a bastard. I looked at Jack and smiled evilly.

  “I’m in.”

  He grinned.

  “I’ll come over later and we’ll talk more.” He said and quickly hurried off to class. I stood there still thinking about breaking Grant’s heart. Wait, what heart? It wasn’t like it he still had feelings for me. Or did he? Man, did I hope he did.

  I went ahead of Jack and he followed me to my house in his orange ’73 Camaro. It looked like a piece of junk. People at school made fun of him about it, but he didn’t seem to care. But whenever some kid called him trailer trash, he gave him a black eye. I never questioned why, but Kendra said it was because he was really sensitive about that kind of stuff. He was the bad boy. The rich boy who never got attention from his parents. At least that’s what everyone said. I didn’t know and I really didn’t care. I pulled into the house and got out. Jack got out as well and looked up at my suburb home. He smiled. He had visited once or twice and always made fun of me. It was totally not like me. I unlocked the door and walked in. It was quiet except for the humming of the big fish tank in the living room.

  “Where are your parents?” Jack asked as he entered, scaring me a little. I put my hand to my forehead.

  “Um, Ireland I think.” He raised an eyebrow at me before dropping his backpack on the sofa. “Yeah. Are you thirsty?” I asked, going up the stairs. He followed.

  “Nope,” he said looking around. I walked to my room and put my bag on my bed. “Nice room,” he said from the door. He leaned on the frame and looked around. It was a mess. I never cleaned it. It had old band posters over the red peeling paint. The new ones were the collection of pictures I’d taken on my trip to Greece.

  “Cool pictures,” he commented. I nodded.

  “Yeah, my parents sent me there for my birthday.”

  “Mm,” he said.

  “So, what do you think we should talk about?” I asked sitting down on my bed. He still stood at the door. “You can come in, you know?” He looked back at me and smiled a little. My stomach fluttered. I wanted to slap at it but stopped myself from making a fool of myself.

  “Thanks,” he came in and sat down at my computer chair. He rotated it and turned to face me.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I think we should probably wait a day or two before we show up at school as ‘a couple’.” He used his fingers to stress the quotes. I nodded.

  “Agreed.” It was silent. “So, what do you think we should do? Like should we sit with them? How are we going to make them jealous?” He looked at me and winked. I rolled my eyes.

  “We make them jealous by acting like a perfect couple and like nothing happened.” He came over to the bed and sat down looking me in the eyes. I sighed.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I said closing my eyes for a second. He snorted.

  “Like it’s going to be a stroll in the park for me!” I gasped.

  “So, what are you saying? I’m not a fun person?” He shrugged and looked away, about to laugh. “Ass!” I yelled. This time he laughed.

  “I just want to make them jealous so we can get back to the way things were,” I said.

  “Simple.” He nodded and looked at me, his eyes alight.

  “We should make out in front of them!” I laughed.

  “Yeah right! Like I’m really going to kiss you!” He looked hurt for a moment but quickly recovered.

  “How else are we going to make them jealous? Or pose as a real couple?” he questioned, throwing his hands in the air. I frowned.

  “I don’t know, but I want to wait the longest I can!” He rolled his eyes, annoyed.

  “Fine, then,” he slapped his hand down on my thigh and I jumped. He looked over at me. “We’ll have to use body language.” I looked down at his hand and up at his eyes. He smirked. I didn’t move his hand…it felt kind of good….he looked surprised that I didn’t, and decided to get as far as he could. His hand went up a little further and my heart rate started to build. I wanted to slap his hand. I wanted to slap his face but I couldn’t. I could hear his breath becoming heavy as we both watched his hand. His hand was warm on my cold leg. I clenched my teeth. Come on Lidia! He’s taking advantage of you! His hand made its way lower on my thigh and my body was heating up. Finally, I grabbed his hand and for a second or two we looked at each other. I stood up dropping his hand, not knowing what came over me.

  “You are such a jerk,” I said, pushing back my hair, trying to cool down. He smirked.

  “Maybe you should even change your wardrobe a little. You know, spice things up a bit.” He stood up in front of
me and looked me over once. “If you’re dating me, you have to look good.”

  I scowled.

  “Yeah, someone has to look good in the relationship.”

  He snorted.

  “Whatever, Taylor,” he walked past me into the hall. I ran out after catching my breath.

  “Wait! What do I do?” I asked. He stopped on the stairs and turned to me.

  “I’ll come and pick you up on Wednesday and we’ll officially be a couple. We’ll go to school and wing it. If anyone asks, say you’ve always had a crush on me and that after Grant broke up with you, you finally decided to give in to your love for me.” He fluttered his eye lashes. I crossed my arms and rolled my eyes.

  “I’m definitely not saying that! I’ll figure out something else.”

  He shrugged.

  “Whatever, you want, Princess,” he called as he turned and continued walking down the stairs. “See ya!”

  He slammed the front door and I heard his car start up. I took a deep breath and sat down on the steps. ‘Oh my gosh Lidia! Why would you let him feel you up like that? Touch you like that! Why would you?’ I yelled at myself. I could still feel his warm hand on me and I shook my head trying to get the feeling away. ‘He’s a jerk! You don’t like him. You are repelled by him! I can do this. Just a week or two and Grant will be my boyfriend again. You can handle this. You can handle this.’ I repeated to myself. I stood up and went back to my room to study for my English paper.

  http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01AM65W4U

  ***

  A sample of my book, Art Appreciation

  http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0162JCFVO

  * * *

  Chapter 1

  Jane Meadows stood in awe of Improvisation 28 (second version.) Of all of Kandinsky’s paintings, this was her favorite. None of her art majoring classmates had understood her fascination with abstract art. They had all been swept up in realism and surrealism; they had drooled over Salvador Dali, James Guthrie and Edward Hopper. There was something about the abstract, however, that Jane just couldn’t resist. She fell in love with the bright colors, the swooping lines and most of all, the freedom to see in it what she desired. In Improvisation 28 (second version) she saw towers, huge ocean waves and fish scales.

  “Great piece isn’t it?” Jane turned around to find a gentleman standing just a few inches behind her. She hadn’t heard him approach, something she found to be just a little unsettling. He was staring at the painting as well. She turned back to the painting.

  “It’s one of my favorite pieces.” Jane said, as she shuffled to the side to put a little space between them. The man nodded.

  “I rather enjoy Moscow I (Red Square) myself. Of course, I do have the pleasure of looking at it every day.” Jane turned to look at him again. He smiled politely at her before shifting his gaze back to the painting that hung on the wall. “I hope that someday I can add this beauty to my collection.” His brow furrowed slightly. “The owner has been quite reluctant to accept any of my offers so far however, so I am not holding my breath!” He chuckled quietly to himself. “What a pity that there are so many fans of Kandinsky’s work.” Jane grinned.

  “I’m afraid that Mr. Frankoff is not all that likely to give up this piece. It took quite some doing to get him to loan it to the Guggenheim.” The man’s eyebrows raised.

  “Ah! You work here?” Jane had obviously piqued his attention. She nodded.

  “Well, it’s more of an internship actually. I’m a modern art major at NYU.” The man tipped his head forward in some type of a nod that Jane didn’t quite understand.

  “A very good school indeed. They have a fabulous modern art program.” He waved his hand around at the pictures that hung around them in the small showroom. “And an internship here? I’d say that you are preparing yourself for quite a career!” Jane could feel the embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

  “I like to think so!” The man nodded and extended his hand.

  “Charles Lincoln. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Jane slipped her dainty hand in to his and watched as he turned it and brought it to his lips. He kissed the back of her hand gently and looked up in to her big brown eyes.

  “Oh…Jane Meadows.” For a moment she had forgotten the protocol for meeting a stranger, after all, it wasn’t your average stranger who kissed your hand as though you were royalty.

  “Miss. Meadows, I presume?” He released her hand. Jane nodded. “Well, Miss. Meadows, I hope very much to make your acquaintance again very soon.” He nodded his head as if he were wearing a hat and had just removed it as a greeting. “I’m afraid I must get back to work.” He smiled and a few small wrinkles creased the corners of his brilliant blue eyes.

  “It was lovely to meet you Mr. Lincoln.” Jane could see the apples of her own cheeks, she was smiling so broadly. Charles smiled back and with one more nod he turned towards the exit of the museum.

  Jane watched him walk away. He looked almost like an anachronism. At six foot tall he dressed in a perfectly pressed tailored suit with a contrasting pocket square. His tie had been perfectly matched to his suit and hung straight as a pin from his collar. His polished black shoes tap tapped as he walked on the shining floor. All he was missing was an umbrella and a hat, Jane thought, and he would look as though he had walked straight out of Mad Men.

  His bright blue eyes has sparkled when he spoke about getting his hands on Frankoff’s Kandinsky. They had sparkled the way that Jane’s sparkled when she caught sight of it in the showroom every day when she walked in to work. In a way she wanted him to have it. She wanted to know that her favorite Kandinsky was in the hands of a true art lover. Sure, Frankoff had been gracious enough to loan the painting to the museum for a few months, but aside from this brief breath of fresh air it was usually locked in a bank vault. Art, Jane believed, was something meant to be appreciated, not insured and locked in a bank vault for the rest of its life.

  Jane headed down the main hall. She was already running late getting back from lunch. Reaching down she tugged on the bottom of her dress to stop it from riding up any further. As she headed back to get back to her current restoration projects, she couldn’t help wondering just how many Kandinsky’s Mr. Lincoln owned. She decided to ask around and see if anyone else at the museum knew.

  Maggie was standing, staring open mouthed at a Picasso painting when Jane walked in on her. Hearing Jane’s footsteps behind her, she turned around, her mouth still agape.

  “Everything okay, Mags?” Jane couldn’t help but laugh at Maggie’s expression. Maggie shook her head and after a few seconds she spoke.

  “No! They want us to restore it.” She looked back at the blue painting of a woman ironing, then turned back to Jane. “A Picasso, Jane. They want us to restore a freaking Picasso.” Jane walked over to the painting and took a closer look.

  “It does need some work. It’s not my cup of tea though…I mean the painting in general. I never really cared for his blue period.” Maggie shook her head.

  “Did you hear me though? They want US to restore it…” Jane squinted as she moved in closely to look at the piece and then she turned back to Maggie.

  “I’m almost certain that there’s going to be a head on the project. They’re not just going to leave US to restore something like…THIS.” Jane turned back to the painting.

  “Yeah, but still. A freaking Picasso!” Jane shrugged.

  “We work at the Guggenheim, I’m pretty sure this isn’t anything out of the ordinary.” Maggie made a quiet groaning noise as she straddled a stool and sat down.

  “I just know I’m going to do something to damage it.” Jane walked over and rubbed her back softly.

  “You’ll be fine. You did a great job on that last piece! You’d never be able to tell that that kid put his hand right through it!” Jane referred to an incident at the museum a few months ago. A young teen had been walking past one of the exhibits and he had tripped over his own feet. Putting his hand out to save himself du
ring his fall, the kid ended up putting his fist through one of the featured pieces.

  “That was a pretty tricky piece.” Jane nodded.

  “See! You’ll be fine! And if you’re not sure about anything just ask Carol. You should have a little more faith in yourself though, you are REALLY good at this.” Maggie looked up with a smile and then reached an arm around Jane’s waist.

  “Thanks.”

  “Sure. It’s the truth!” Jane put her arm around Maggie’s shoulders. “Oh, hey! I had a question for you.” Maggie pulled back and swiveled her stool to face Jane.

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you know a guy called Charles Lincoln?” Maggie seemed to think about this for a few seconds before shaking her head slowly.

  “I don’t thhhhhhink so…God his name sounds so familiar though. Or am I thinking of Abraham Lincoln?” Maggie’s mouth bunched to one side as she thought a moment more. “No…” She shook her head. “I don’t think I know him. Why?”

  “I just ran in to him out by Improvisation 28. He seems like a pretty interesting guy.” Maggie’s eyes widened and she grinned.

  “Ooohhh, do tell!” Jane shook her head.

  “It’s not like that, he’s a little too old for me. But he does own a Kandinsky of his own and he’s been trying to buy Mr. Frankoff’s apparently.” Maggie laughed with a snort.

  “Yeah, good luck getting it out of his claws, the guy isn’t a collector, he’s a hoarder.” Jane nodded in agreement. “Anyway, maybe try asking Jackson about him. If anyone knows him it’ll be him.”

  “Yeah…I think I might just do that.”

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  “Hey Jackson?” Jackson spun his chair around in the reception cubicle and grinned broadly when he caught sight of Jane.