“Fuck, I’m so fucked. He is going to tear me a new one.”
“If you don’t get your ass here, you’ll be lucky if that’s all he does.”
“Samuel, I am at the studio and not even near being dressed to work!”
“Please, you could dress yourself out of that bag you tote around. Get here fast.”
“Roger that.” Hanging up the phone, I throw all of my supplies back in my cabinet, lock my pieces up in my storage and pull the canvas cover down.
Leave it up to Daz to piss all over my cornflakes. It was shaping up to be an awesome night down here and now I have to pull a miracle out of my oversized bag. After hailing down a taxi, I dump my bag and start digging out makeup. I hardly wore the shit on my days off so this is as good as having to start off from scratch. Red lipstick and eye shadow─ score. Thank the lord for having amazing drag queen friends who teach you how to repurpose makeup. Mixing a few things together, I manage blush. Ripping a comb through my mess, I settle for pinning it back into a messy bun. My heart picks up speed when I see we are just a few blocks away. Clothes, clothes… ugh! I’m in jeans, canvas boat shoes and a button down. Unbuttoning my top until maximum cleavage shows, rolling up my sleeves and tying the front into a midriff, I sigh. It’s not like anyone will see my shoes behind the bar. Damn, we are already here!
Throwing a wad with a fat tip at the cabby, I run to the back door and hit the buzzer. Doug the douche as I like to call him opens it wide but intentionally blocks the way.
“Looks like someone is a tad bit late.” He grins his sleazy brand that so many seem to fall for and I have no idea why.
“Let me in, please. I gotta get up to the bar,” my sense of urgency pounds out in my inpatient tone.
“What’s the password?” He shamelessly sweeps his eyes over me with a creepy shadow passing over this face.
“Fuck off, Doug.” I attempt to push past him, and he stops me.
“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Nope, that’s not it. Maybe you should work those tits of yours a little harder and try again.”
No one besides Samuel knows who my boyfriend is and it’s not my style to name drop no matter how tempting it is right now. Getting in real close, I smile and bat my eyes while leaning forward a bit. His overall stance relaxes even though he keeps his arm up to block the door. Pulling back my arm, I elbow this shit out of his side, grazing his kidney and dropping him like the sack of crap that he is. Doug wails and lets out a slew of expletives. Daz is going to kill me if I don’t get upstairs! Quickly stepping past him into the back hall, I kick him in the ass for good measure and turn to see Gavin stalking down the hall, dressed to the nines with a wolfish grin.
“I came down to help, but I can see you don’t need it. Any particular reason why you are beating up my staff?” Gavin questions casually.
Doug groans as he staggers back to his feet and closes the door.
“Fucker wouldn’t let me in unless I showed him the goods.” Gavin’s face clamps down, and the little hairs stand up on my arms. This isn’t a side of him that I am used to, but now I can see the traces of mob still left in him.
“Is that right? Doug?” He turns that scowl toward the douche who instantly rethinks the insults hanging on his tongue and cowers back.
“Ah, boss. I was just clowning around.”
“Yeah, clowning. Gotta run!” I take off down the hall and slip into the back elevator, leaving those two to figure it out.
Nervously chewing on my thumbnail, the doors open in time for me to run flat, smack into Daz’s imposing figure. Fucking hell!
“Ya can’t be bothered to show up on time, yet here you are, trying to sneak your ass into the back elevator?” His raspy, baritone burr rolls over me, severely displeased. The scar that runs down his lip adds to the permanent glower he seems to always wear.
“Daz, I’m sorry. I lost track of time.” I hold my hands up. Easy, big boy.
“Lost track of time on your scheduled night of work? Seems to me you have other things occupying that mind of yours, and they have nothing to do with making me money.”
“I already said I was sorry, and I meant it. Forgot what day of the week it was. It happens, boss. I am human.”
“It does happen, but not with you. Don’t think that it has ever happened in the years you have worked here. Don’t let some piece of ass ruin a good thing, Sorcha.” He gives me a wry smile that says too much. “I am glad someone was able to tame that horrid beast. He was starting to worry me there for a minute.” Mischief evident in the lines of his shifting face.
“What? That’s not why-” Heat blushes my cheeks under the realization of his knowledge.
“Save it, kid. He actually showed up on time. But know this, very little happens that I don’t know about.” Daz winks and walks off like we never had this conversation.
What just happened? I’ve seen that madman make people cry for being five minutes late. I was well over that. Dazed and confused, I make my way into the packed bar. Samuel looks super pissed and relieved all at once. His dark blue eyes track me until I am firmly planted by his side to manage the masses.
“Nice of you to finally show up,” he whispers out of the corner of his mouth.
“Sorry, would have been here sooner but I had to give douchey Doug a kidney shot. Then Daz cut me off in the hall.”
“Good, Doug’s had that coming and I hope the boss straightened your ass out too.”
Ignoring him, I take a few orders and while mid pull on the tap, Samuel finally comes back around.
“Were you with him? Is that why you were late?” Concern and intrigue cannot be helped by him.
“No, I told you when you called. I was trying to finish my last piece for the show. Now, I’ve got to figure out how to finish by Sunday,” I wearily respond while trying to calm my breath down from rushing all around to get to this point.
“Shit, will your man be able to pull out long enough tomorrow for you to finish before work?”
“Jesus! I thought I told you to not talk about his cock!” I joke in feigned annoyance.
“Come to work late, looking like that again, and I am just going to blame it on his cock,” he hisses and slings a bar towel over his shoulder as he turns to grab some top-shelf scotch. That stuff is like gasoline. I balk at his assessment of my physical state. “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad. Those tits of yours make up for the saggy ass jeans and artsy shoes.” He winks.
“These jeans are gripping; I don’t know what you are talking about!”
“Hmmm, you have better. Plus, those have developer splashed on them.”
“Crap!” Looking down, I realize he is right. I am wearing my old, stained jeans and start to panic. I’ve never been this out of sorts. Usually, I am well collected, well put together, and always a few steps ahead of everyone. Is this what being happy and contented equates to? A disheveled mess?
“They all will be so hammered in about an hour; no one will remember or care. Calm down.”
“You calm down, asshole. I’ve got the biggest show of my life coming up in T-3 days as this is the first time my parents will really be seeing my work, I was late to work, got dressed in a cab, and had to completely turf the guest list and to-do list over to Molly and Bre because I couldn’t handle it. That fact alone makes me want to vomit.”
“Sounds like your nerves are getting the best of you. Is your knight in shining armor coming?”
“Yeah, he says he is. He took me dress shopping a few days ago, insisting that my jeans weren’t acceptable.” I loved my jeans when away from the bar. Apparently they weren’t good enough however for a friendly party. The dress wasn’t necessary since this would be a small soiree, but Gavin wasn’t hearing it.
“Oh, thank God.” Samuel looks way too relieved.
“Love you too. Ben and Steve took over coordinating with the caterer and Bre supposedly went overboard with decorations.”
“I thought gallery openings were all drab, only spotlighting the art.”
&
nbsp; “Since the gallery owner is a friend of Jeff’s, Bre gets free rein. Lord help us all.”
Chapter 15
Sorcha
The weekend flew by and before I knew it, Sunday was here. Gavin and I hadn’t spent a night apart in weeks and last night was no exception. He was leaving for the UK early Monday to see his family and we didn’t want to miss any time together. I had been upset when he initially dropped the bomb on me during Thanksgiving simply by its deliverance. But I really did understand, and it is not like I can afford to jump on a plane to go right now. Not after paying for this little holiday party/ unveiling. He already altered his plans to make sure he was back by New Year’s Eve as Daz wouldn’t stand to have him gone for that, and he didn’t want to spend both Christmas and New Years away from me. I couldn’t ask for more than that.
Gavin had to run into the office for a bit this afternoon and swore he’d meet me at the gallery later. And that is how I ended up taking a town car all dolled-up in a classic, backless, black gown downtown, by myself.
Pulling up to the gallery and seeing my pieces through the window, hanging proudly all over the white display walls, puts a surreal spin on the start of this evening. Is that really my work? Are all of those people here for me? It doesn’t seem quite right… It seems off. On auto pilot, I get out of the town car and float into the building, only to be swept away by the buzzing excitement. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I didn’t invite all of these people! Who the hell are they and where did they come from? Wide spread panic begins as I double check that I am in the right place.
“Sorcha! Over here!” Bre bobs up and down, waving me over to where she and Jeff proudly stand. Bre looks stunning in a royal blue cocktail dress reminiscent of the forties, and Jeff went all out in a black-on-black suit number. They have always been a regal couple.
“Hey, you outdid yourselves. Who are all of these people?” My heart flurries insanely under the pressure as I try to take it all in. There are so many moving parts fluttering about, and the added pressure of knowing that I am the cause of it throws me way off my typically self-assured game.
“Well, I may or may not have taken the liberty of asking the owner of this fine establishment to preview your works when they arrived yesterday and invite some of his friends.” Bre beams with pride, her flawless grace impeccable next to her stately husband.
“Fucking hell, Bre! This wasn’t supposed to be all crazy; it was just supposed to be a small gathering of friends and family!” My face must be the shade of a beet by now.
“Friends and family have just landed.” She winks and nods to the rowdy lot by the bar.
My uncle Shamus, Mum, Dad and about ten cousins are all sampling some concoction that the bartender is proudly displaying with a fancy-looking craft and fruit-rimmed glasses. A heavy buffet flanked the bar and waiters dance around the intimate venue serving fancy little finger foods.
“Bre, that is quite a food and bar display. I didn’t give you enough for all of this,” I stammer. My budget had been small; she swore she would stay within it.
“Everyone pitched in. Don’t worry. We wanted the best for your big event. You walked away from everything for this, so we figured it was special and deserved to be treated as such.” Jeff clears his throat, and Breonna gives me the look that says there will be no further speak on the matter.
I quickly hug them, tears brimming on my lids. Ben, Steve, Samuel, and Reed choose that moment to walk up and join in on the sappy moment. Thanking each one individually, I finally step back and take in my work from this point of view.
All my pieces hang in perfect display with accentuating lighting all around the free-standing walls. Bre and the girls did a bang-up job decorating with tea lights, candelabras, and flowers. It was classy, metropolitan, and colorful yet didn’t detract from the photography displayed everywhere. Strangers mingled with my loved ones, all laughing, eating, and drinking as they oohed and aahed along their journey around the space.
A group collected around my crowning jewel, the installation piece that took me six months to complete. It is an artistically displayed collage of shots of people around the city with architectural backgrounds unique to San Francisco; an insight to the beautiful artistry and diversity of my beloved city. Each square-shaped black and white had been strategically mounted on raised canvases, which I then arranged into different angles. To increase the intricacy of the pattern uniting all the photos, I cut up and metallically glazed hundreds of toilet paper rolls into circles which had been bent and creased in a few different ways. Using upcycled wire, I weaved it all together into one giant mandala. As the piece grew in size, it became a bitch to store in my little rented space but proved to be a welcome challenge. Once the final border had been added, I had to talk the owner of the studio to put it up in his personal storage up in the loft area for an extra fee of course.
Gravitating closer to the main piece as I make my way around the crowds, a dark suit catches my attention and makes my eyebrows hit the ceiling. Wordlessly floating up to his side, I know I don’t have to say a word. He knows I am there.
“Sorcha, I don’t recall you ever telling me about this particular talent of yours,” Daz grunts with an unlit cigar hanging from his lip, his haughty yet callous features slightly relaxing.
“I am shocked as shit to see you here, boss. How’d you find out about this?”
“Told you, pet, there is little that happens that I don’t know about.” He winks and the use of the term “pet” aligns way more dots than I cared for, which lends to the growing blush I seem to be wearing as an accessory.
“Don’t know what to say.” Part of me wants to ask him where my man is but I backpedal quickly, I don’t want to find out exactly how much he knows.
“You look beautiful this evening, as always. Such talent wrapped up into one package. He’s a lucky sonofabitch. Anyway, enough of that. I’ve got shit to do. Goodnight.” Daz quickly embraces me then strolls off, his personal bodyguard hot on his heels as I remain frozen in place.
I stand there, stunned into silence in a room full of people by Daz’s almost affection as Samuel saunters up to my side.
“Did Daz just hug you?” he asks, flabbergasted.
“Yeah, that just happened.” Damn it, he knew! I proceed to scold myself and shake my head; I could have asked him where Gavin was and why he was still at work!
“Hell froze over?” Samuel asks as he hands me a pomegranate martini. The chilled glass laced with condensation is a welcome surprise as the heat kicks up a notch.
“Apparently.” My lips greedily sip the cool liquid as Molly and Master Gibson part the crowd and bound over.
“Wow, baby girl, this is phenomenal!” Master Gibson sweeps me into a hug. It is so weird to see them out in public; a dashing couple all dressed up, no one the wiser to their fetishes. Molly moved in with him right after Thanksgiving; a move that screamed volumes as the last asshat did such a number on her, I didn’t think she’d ever live with another guy.
“Oh, Sor! It’s amazing! I can’t believe you did all this… I mean, I believe it because you are awesome- Crap! You know what I mean!” Molly wraps an arm around mine as Gibson lets me go. The candid praise radiates from them both.
“You, Bre, Jade, Ben, and everyone else are to thank. I just did the art.” I awkwardly shrug my shoulders.
“Stop, it’s all pure brilliance!” Ben and Steve interject as they bring over a silver tray full of hors d'oeuvres and squeeze in.
“Thanks, everyone.” I grin, pluck a crab cake, and stuff it into my mouth. This is way more direct attention than I am comfortable with. Working in the swanky nightclub all of these years had been easy as it was never like the whole room’s attention was on me or my personal art, which is an extension of my soul. As a bartender, I hid behind a smokescreen. No matter how many tricks I performed, no one knew much about me. Here, I was laid out raw for the world to see.
“Sor, you’ve been chatting up everyone. It’s time you make your way
over to Mum and Dad.” Bre comes over to inform me in her overbearing, sisterly fashion.
“Bre, I haven’t talked to Dad since Thanksgiving.” He and I have never gone so long, but I needed the time and space to deal with the implications.
“Duh, now is the time. Go, ya piss ant.” Bre grabs my bare arm and hauls me to the bar in a less-than-graceful plight. She dumps me off right before them as I damn near stumble into the lot.
“Hiya Mum, Dad.” I greet them and hug my mum but avoid my dad.
“Oh, Sorcha! This… I-I am so glad you quit being a doctor! Or we ne’er would have been graced with this!” My mum has tears of joy in her eyes as she pinches my cheek then kisses it.
“Yes, Sorcha, we are very proud of you,” my dad interjects but respects my boundary of not wanting to take it further. His words still burned. Daddy’s little princess has fallen off the assumed pedestal and now she needs time to lick her wounds.
“Oy! Mo stór! Yer a top-notch artist! Feck! I’m glad too!” Shamus wraps me up in his signature bear hug, putting me up to my hug limit. After he releases me, the cousins descend upon me for a good thirty minutes before I am allowed to resurface.
As the night wears on, Gavin’s absence becomes alarming. He said that he would be here. Checking my cell phone, the time shows nine PM and still no sign of him. He hasn’t even bothered to return my texts. Is he pulling the disappearing game again? Was our professed love and mutually beneficial arrangement suddenly too much?
I am not left to my own thoughts for long before Bre parades over with a gentleman that makes me blanch. As they near, the click of her heels upon the wooden floor becomes more deafening as my heart sinks.
“Sorcha Quinn, meet Devon St. Claire. He’s an art proprietor for some of the top, high-end hotel chains around the world.” Bre bubbles forth and looks as if she is about to burst with excitement making the introduction. All I can do is wonder where on earth my man is. Shit, maybe it’s a good thing he isn’t here.
“Sorcha, so we meet again. The pleasure is all mine. I must say, you look absolutely delectable this evening,” Devon purrs as he takes my hand and kisses it. His eyes attempt to hold mine before Bre interrupts.
Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) Page 22