She shifts her head, and our eyes lock.
“Those people are real?”
“Why is it so hard for you to see how talented you are?”
“People really want my work,” she states to herself.
“Yes, they do.”
“But I’ve been here so long, and only sold one painting that wasn’t to you.”
“And that pisses me off. It stripped you of your confidence. You didn’t deserve what they did to you.” It makes my blood boil to think about how the people who were supposed to be helping launch her career stuck her in some obscure little low-end gallery.
“What who did? What are you talking about?”
“That gallery you’re in. It’s too low-end for your stuff. His customers aren’t looking to spend the kind of money your stuff should be going for. If you’d been in a high-end gallery with a bigger presence, your stuff would’ve sold like crazy. Whoever convinced you to sell through his small gallery didn’t do you any favors. Using him gave you a steeper hill to climb.” I wonder if she’d ever had the same thought as me about it.
“But,” she sighs, “I went through Gordon because Ava recommended him. She had such glowing things to say about him. Gordon always had such glowing things to say about me. I intentionally priced lower than what I thought I should be, considering the amount of time I spend on each piece, because I wanted to keep my art accessible.”
“You have a decision to make. Do you want an art career, or do you want to spend all that time and money on supplies for nothing but the feeling of rejection?”
“I don’t like feeling rejected.”
“That’s why you don’t need Kelso. You’re too good to have your stuff locked away in his house. You’d never get discovered while creating stuff that’ll only be seen by that asshole.”
“But you had no right to make that decision.”
“I didn’t,” I say, my eyebrows arched.
“You used me to get at him.”
“No. I know the slimeball, I was trying to protect you from him.”
“You were so, that’s why you came and did that to me in his bedroom.”
“Skye, angel, I didn’t go there intending for that to happen. I couldn’t help myself, you’re too irresistible.”
“No.”
“Yes, don’t you think I would’ve brought a condom if that’s why I was there?”
“Maybe. Yes. Unless…”
“Unless nothing, why don’t you want to believe me? Because you believe him when he says I used you to get to him? I thought we got through that.”
Skye looks and me, at the floor, around the room. I don’t think she knows what to believe, but I need her to believe me. I’m ready to tilt her head to mine and kiss her until she believes, but as I tighten my grip on her hair, she pulls away and drops into a chair.
“I have to sit down.”
It’s About Time
(Skye)
I pull away from Lawson and drop into the chair. With my face in my hands, I try to make sense of the past fifteen minutes of my life.
The last thing I expected to see when I stormed into the hotel was my art, framed and displayed prominently in the lobby.
The very last thing I expected to hear was the manager of the hotel telling me how many people offer to buy them from the hotel. Which explains why Gordon gets inquiries from all over the country.
This morning, I thought everything in my life was lost. My parents were lost months ago. My career, which never really started, was lost when Kelso fired me. Lawson was lost, because I blame him for losing the Kelso job. I still blame him.
Except now I see I didn’t need the Kelso job. I hated Kelso. I hated the idea of my work being locked up in some mansion. But I’d needed the money so bad. And I had my heart set on the gallery show.
Meanwhile, I’d already been having my own gallery show, right here in this hotel. Lawson went and did it all without telling me. After I’d made it clear I didn’t want his help.
I don’t understand how I feel or what to think.
“I should be mad, but thank you,” I say, looking up at Lawson.
“There’s nothing to thank me for.”
“There is. You did so much for me, and I appreciate it. I really do.”
“But?”
“There’s no but. Not really.” I don’t think, anyway. Why did he do all this stuff for me? Why didn’t he tell me? Why did he do it when I told him not to help me? It’s so important for me to make it on my own.
“It doesn’t seem like there’s no but.”
“There isn’t. I don’t know what to think.” I really don’t. Every emotion in existence has coursed through my veins today. I’m already running on no sleep from last night. It’s like my brain has shut down, and all my emotions, heightened from exhaustion, are spinning at ninety miles an hour. I can’t make sense of anything.
Lawson heaves a great sigh and sits at the table in the chair beside me.
“Skye, this is killing me. I don’t know how to make you see how much I care about you. You don’t know what to think, but you’re in the driver’s seat here. I want you in my life. I need you in my life.” Lawson jams his fingers into his hair.
My entire body is numb. I need time to think. The painting is near me, and I pull it in front of me. The pain and anguish I’d felt when I created it come flooding back. I wanted him to know the pain I felt. That’s what I came here for in the first place.
“I just don’t know.”
“You’re the only person I’ve ever felt this way about. The only person I’ve ever wanted.”
“Yeah, you kind of know my background, so I know what you mean.” He obviously knows I’ve never had a serious boyfriend before. I wonder if he realizes I’ve never had any boyfriend before.
“I flat out don’t know what to do. I’ve seriously never been in this situation before.”
“Well neither have I.”
“So why are you torturing us both?” He swallows, hard.
I manage a weak smile. “It’s been a rollercoaster morning, my head is swimming. I need time to clear my head.” Maybe I should go home and crawl into bed to digest everything.
Pushing back the chair, I stand. My hands hesitate over the painting, unsure whether to take it with me or leave it for Lawson.
“What are you doing?” His voice is strained and he puts his hand over mine. His touch is electric.
“I need to go home, I need to figure things out.”
“Listen, we put a magazine in all our luxury hotel rooms. Because this is our new flagship boutique hotel and your work is the star of the show, we’ve decided to run an article on you.”
“An article? On me?” Through the chaos of my emotions, pride bubbles up to the surface.
“Yes. You heard from Rick how much of a hit your paintings have been. Will you at least let me interview you for the article?” Lawson shifts his weight. I can’t figure out if his voice is sharp from anger or frustration.
My breathing is getting faster by the minute. I bite my lips between my teeth and sit back down.
“Okay.”
Lawson hasn’t let go of my hand, and I make no attempt to pull it away. Instead, I relish the warmth the contact from his hand is radiating throughout me.
He clears his throat and asks, “Why do you paint?”
“To convey my emotion.” It’s all I can think about, it’s the reason I came here. I wanted him to know my pain. Except, now that I’ve learned what he’s done, I need to paint another, to sort out my thoughts. My mind races at the prospect of a new painting, I see a lot of yellows and oranges in it. Would my brush ever reach for the blacks and blues?
“Is that what this painting is about?”
“Yeah. It’s a break from my usual style. Do you get any sense of emotion from this?”
“It’s not very cheery.” Not very cheery? That’s an understatement.
“Do you get heartache? Anguish?”
“Yes, I’m a
bsolutely feeling those things.”
“The feeling of being used?”
“No, there’s none of that. That situation definitely doesn’t exist.” He squeezes my hand to emphasis his point. I want to lean into him, to let him hold me while I digest everything that’s happened.
“I thought this was an interview for the article.”
Lawson smirks. “Don’t give me your sarcasm.”
Our eyes lock, and I don’t respond. I can’t. Not now that his eyes are holding me, their warmth comforting me so completely.
“Fine. How does it make you feel to see your creations displayed in our hotel lobby?”
“Shocked. It shocked me to see them.”
“But it must make you happy, or proud, or something?”
“All of that. But the real thing that makes me happy and proud is hearing about all the hotel customers who stop to admire them.”
“And try to buy them.”
“Yes, that too. Especially that.” That makes me more than happy. It makes my insides do backflips with relief and elation. People notice me. I am good. I must be, or my paintings would simply fade into the background. Chasing my dream might’ve been the right decision after all.
“You’re smiling, sunshine.”
“It’s a relief. Like a confirmation that I’m an okay artist.”
“You’re not an okay artist, you’re an amazing artist. You must see that now.”
“I used to think I was good, but it took so long for anybody to notice me. And when I finally did get noticed, it was for the wrong reason.”
“Wrong reason?” he asks, his eyebrow arched.
“Not for my art.”
“More for your ass in that tight waitress uniform, but followed quickly by both your personality and that picture you drew.”
“You found that sexy?”
“I thought that talent was pretty damn sexy. I’m still eagerly anticipating the self portrait of your sexy tits.”
An easy laugh flows from me. “I can’t believe you just said that.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to hear that laugh.”
“Like keep getting me fired?”
“Fucking hell, I thought we got past that.” The breeziness vanished from his voice. Instead there’s anger. I don’t want to push him away — the thought scares me. But he hasn’t given me time, and I need to decompress. Now I’m scared I’ll push him away just to get the time I need.
“I don’t want to have this conversation now.”
He closes his eyes and says, “Then let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about the Dodgers, or the latest Marvel movie, or the fucking weather, but for God’s sake, let’s keep talking.”
Lawson runs his fingers over my palm, and a tear trickles down my cheek.
Going to Voicemail
(Lawson)
Fucking hell. Time. Why does Skye need time? Isn’t it obvious to her how much I care about her? How much I need her in my life?
Doesn’t she see she didn’t need the job with Kelso?
I want to touch more than her hand. Can I? Or will that just piss her off?
It’s killing me having her this close to me, close enough I can smell her flowery shampoo. I want to pull her into me and bury my face in her hair.
Maybe if I kiss her, she’ll understand how I feel. I don’t know how to make her understand the way I feel about her. But it’s a risk too big even for me, if it pissed her off, I’d lose her for good. Whereas right now, it seems like I have a chance.
I just have to keep her from leaving. To keep her talking. And I’m not letting go of her hand for anything.
It seems like she’s shut down. I stop talking, ready to start again if she makes a motion to leave. Her face isn’t giving away any hints of what she’s thinking. I’d hate to play a game of poker against her. Although whatever it is we’re doing now has higher stakes than any poker game I’ve ever played.
“I know your head’s swimming right now, but I really am running that article.”
Skye’s eyes widen.
“You are?” Her voice is dull, its normal spark missing.
“I am. But I think I’ll run it in the magazine for my new company instead of this one.”
“New company?”
“Yesterday I changed my mind about Kelso. I’m tired of fucking around with him. I’ve already instructed Julie to fuck him as long and as hard in the courts as we can. It’s going to take years. In the meantime I’m starting a separate company. It’ll be great. All boutique hotels, in business and exotic locations that’ll attract a fiercely loyal following.” My throat burns as I speak.
I’m thinking on my feet here. She’d better not think I’m fucking babbling. “I’m going to feature you in that magazine. Hell, I’ll put you in both. Do you want to be in both? No, wait. The new hotels are going to need lots of original artwork in them.” I take a deep breath, hoping this works. I need it to sound professional for her. “The company would like to commission you to create artwork for each of the new hotels. And to make prints of the pieces to use in the bedrooms.”
The color has returned to her face, the shine back in her eyes. It encourages me to continue. “We can negotiate the number and cost, you don’t even have to deal with me. Everything can go through my head of procurement.”
Skye smiles. “Maybe I want to deal with you.”
It’s music to my fucking ears. Do I consider that acceptance? Hell yes. I stand, ready to pull her into my arms until the end of time, when her phone rings.
“You should get that,” I say. I take a quick glance at my watch and smile.
By the time she roots around in her purse and pulls out the phone, the ringing had ended.
“Missed it,” she says, shrugging.
“Is there voicemail? It might be important,” I say.
“I’ll check.”
Watching the delicate way her fingers tap the screen makes me long for them to touch me.
She holds the phone to her ear. As she listens, her hand flies to her mouth and tears wet her cheeks. Finally her hand moves from her ear and she lets the phone drop onto the table.
“Everything okay?” I ask, moving to her side. From her reaction, I assume her mother has followed through on her promise to me.
Skye looks up at me with fresh tears in her eyes, and says, “That was my mom. She said she was interviewed for an article this morning and that she’s proud of me.”
As soon as the words are out, Skye bursts into tears. I purse my lips as I pull out of the chair and draw her tight against me, removing any air between us.
“I, um.” I pause, suddenly worried that what I did might make her angry. “I phoned her this morning to get a quote to use in the article and might’ve suggested that she grovel for your forgiveness.”
Her body shakes with her sobs, and I hold her tighter.
“I can’t believe she called me. When I left, she said I was dead to her.”
“Sometimes people say things they don’t mean.”
“Thank you. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Don’t. You know I’d do anything to give you your parents back, anything.”
For the first time since the call, Skye looks up and makes eye contact with me. Her eyes are glassy from tears, but behind the tears, the spark is back. No, it’s not just back, it’s blazing brighter that it has since I met her.
I palm her cheek, drying the tears with my thumb. Her lips curl into a smile, a slight part between them.
Nothing’s stopping me now. I press my lips against hers, forcing them wider apart. Skye does nothing to resist me, and I deepen the kiss before breaking it.
With her cheek still cupped, I say, “I would do anything for you. Don’t ever doubt me or doubt my feelings about you again.”
“Never. I’m sorry.”
“I don’t need sorries.”
Her soft lips quiver, and I give them a quick kiss.
“You promise to stop resisting me?”
“I promise.”
“So you’ll do the tit drawing?”
“Stop it,” she says, laughing.
“Fine. I like them better in person anyhow.” I slide my hand from her back, up her side, between our bodies, and cup her breast.
“I’m sorry I ever doubted you. I can’t believe everything you’ve done for me.”
“What did I tell you about sorries?”
“Okay, this isn’t a sorry but I need to say it out loud: You promoted my art, you’ve offered me the most amazing commission ever, and you’ve given me my parents back. Thank you. That’s what this is, a thank you.”
“The only thanks I want is you.”
Her eyes flitter around in exasperation, moving from her body to mine, my arm around her waist, my other hand on her breast.
She smiles and says, “It looks like you have that, from where I’m standing.”
“You don’t hate me because I’m rich?” I give her a quick kiss.
“No chance.”
“And you see how much you belong in my world?”
“Uh-huh.” I give her another quick kiss.
“Good, because you are my world.” It’s true. With Skye, I’ve felt complete for the first time in my life. Before her, I didn’t know what being in love was. When she turned on me, ripping that feeling away, it left me hurting more because I knew what I’ve been missing.
Skye’s chin quivers, and for a moment I worry she’s going to start crying again.
She swallows and says, “Do you know you’re the only thing ever that’s more powerful in my life than my paintings?”
“What?”
“I mean, normally I spend every waking second thinking about them, but now with you in my life, I spend a lot of time not thinking about them.”
“Does that mean your quality’s going to drop? Because, as your client, I demand the best from you.”
Carnal: Pierced and Inked Page 48