I saw red. And instead of punching his lights out, I lifted my foot and kicked sand at him. Several times actually, just like a fucking child throwing a tantrum.
He lifted his hands and hopped up. “Not cool, man.”
“Not cool! Not cool? Abandoning your eight-year-old is not fucking cool!? Leaving a woman who loved you in the lurch is not cool? Disappearing for twenty years is not cool?” I yelled so loud I was pretty sure the folks on the connecting islands heard me. If not, they were about to get another earful.
My father pressed his hands up and down in an “easy there, fella” move. “Now just wait a minute. I left you the key. Told you it would change your life.”
“You also said you’d come back.” The hurt in my voice overwhelmed the anger, and I winced, not wanting him to hear what his actions really did to me.
“Well, you’ve got me there,” he admitted.
I scoffed. “Just tell me right now. Why did you leave Mom and me?”
He ran a hand through his windblown hair and then rubbed at his beard. “Loved your mom. I did. Loved you something fierce.”
I huffed. “Yeah, then why you’d leave?”
“At the time, I loved my art more than your mom. With you, felt I had nothing left to offer you. Promised myself I’d make something of myself, put it all away for your future. That’s why I gave you the key. Knew when you were older, you’d figure it out. Didn’t think it would take this long, though.”
I gripped my hair and tugged on the strands. “You didn’t think it would take this long. You’re insane.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m happy. I did well by you monetarily. Gave you that business so you could keep having something to live off of.” He clucked his tongue. “Way I see it, me leaving was the best thing for you.”
“You are certifiable. A boy needs his father, not cash or a business. I can’t believe you think that’s what I’d want. What I wanted was you, in my life, every day. Taking care of me, taking care of my mom.” I glanced around at his beachfront gallery on the North Shore side of the island. The place must have cost a mint, yet here he was, soaking up the sun and thinking that abandoning me was a good decision.
“Now that I’ve seen you, I can tell you exactly what you did. You leaving…broke me. It practically killed my mother. We struggled so much and so hard, there were times I wasn’t sure where we were going to get our next meal. But we kept on working hard and finally we came out of it. Without you. And you know what, Dad…” I spoke through my frustration. “We’re going to continue doing it without you. I got your letters, I got your cash, I got the business you left for me, and you know what? I’m going to use it to do some good. So thank you for that, for that small token of kindness. Now you can live free in the knowledge that your son and wife back on the mainland are just fine without you in their lives.”
“Son, please. Come on. Let’s get to know one another. Share a beer. I’ll introduce you to my wahine.”
I bit down on my lip so hard it hurt, but not as much as my heart. This man, he didn’t love anyone but himself. He saved up that cash and gave those things because he felt obligated and guilty. As he should have, and should continue to feel for the rest of his natural life. He abandoned me.
Briefly, I thought of Mila. I’d abandoned her, too, just like my father did me. Abandoned the only thing I knew was real in my life. I was no different than him. Abandoning the one person who loved me for me, regardless of what I could give her. Fuck. I messed up. So bad. I knew that I had to deal with my father, my life, my career, before I went back to her, but I was going back to her. After the time that had passed, though, I hoped to hell she’d take me back. Again.
“I gotta go.” Suddenly, the need to hop back on an airplane headed for California was all encompassing. Getting my shit in order would take priority so I could win back Mila. “Have a nice life, Dad.”
He scrambled to follow placing his hand on my bicep. “Wait, are you ever coming back?” His voice sounded rough, as though he’d actually felt a hint of emotion. Maybe even remorse, but I doubted it.
I shrugged off his hold and said the same words he said to me, only I switched them up a bit. “Maybe someday…probably never.”
MILA
The last two weeks rivaled the weeks leading up to my dad getting indicted and my mom leaving for her new family. Atlas might have been abandoned when he was a little boy, but he’d still had his mom. I didn’t have anyone back then. I thanked my lucky stars for Moe and Lily, though. She’d been my rock since the breakup. Of course, she’d also been hopeful that Atlas would get his head out of the sand and come groveling back. So far…nothing but crickets.
Moe handed me an omelet filled to the brim with spinach, black olives, tomatoes, and cheddar cheese. And she made it to where the insides were full and the thin layer of egg flapped over the goodies instead of scrambling it all together.
“I’m telling you, that man loves you.” She flung the spatula around in a circle. “I for one am not ready to give up.”
I rolled my eyes and cut the tip of the omelet. “If he loved me so much, he wouldn’t have gone, and stayed gone, for the past two weeks.”
She pursed her lips. “Yeah, but no one else has seen him, either. Even Dash mentioned that he’d fallen off the radar.”
“Yeah well, I hope he fell into a hole and smashed his pretty face!”
Moe gasped. “Mila, you don’t mean that.”
I groaned and then let my head fall into my hand. “No, I don’t mean that. Fuck, this whole loving someone sucks so bad.”
“Love? You love him?” Moe’s eyes sparkled with interest.
I sighed. “Honey, isn’t it obvious by how miserable I am? It seems like people in love are always miserable for one reason or another.”
“Uh, yeah, but you’ve never admitted it before.” She blinked prettily.
“Probably because this is the first time it’s ever happened to me, and would you look at that…I ruined it without even trying. Go figure.” I cringed.
Moe’s shoulders slumped, and she leaned against the counter. “Everyone has a past, and most people’s aren’t ever that good. Believe me. I know.”
I thought about the fact that all she did was talk people through bad marriages, bad divorces, grief counseling, life counseling, child custody battles, and court mediation. She definitely knew what she was talking about. Still it didn’t change the fact that two weeks had gone by with no sign of my curly-haired musician.
“Have you tried to call him?”
I shook my head. “What would I say? Sorry I’m a whore?”
Moe slapped the counter. “You are not a whore.”
“But I kind of was. I had a lot of one-night hookups, girl. Too many to even count. I’d go to a bar, let a hot guy buy me drinks all night, go back to his place, scratch that sexual itch, and then, when he fell asleep, I’d slink away into my Uber and go home. One and then done.”
“I’ll agree that’s a bit slutty, but a whore gets paid and you weren’t taking their money. Besides, you are a sexually independent being and can have sex with whomever you want. You weren’t doing it when you were with Atlas officially, were you?”
I shook my head hard, my hair flying against my cheek. “No. Not even since the day I met him.”
“There you go. You’re in the clear. Frankly, it’s on him, but I do think maybe since it ended so badly with both of you saying some harsh words, maybe you could, at the very least, extend a teeny tiny olive branch?” She held up her thumb and forefinger about the size of an inch.
Right then the phone rang. Moe answered, listened for a minute, and handed it to me. “For you.”
Very few people knew Moe’s home number because I didn’t give it out willy-nilly. She was a hot commodity and freak-nasties in the court system along with pissed off jealous exes tended to like to take out their anger out on someone, so we didn’t advertise our phone and had the number blocked.
“Hello?” I said.<
br />
“Hello, Ms. Mercado?”
“Yes.”
A nasally voice came through the line. “I’m Ingrid from Second Chances Gallery.”
“Okay, uh, how can I help you?”
Moe narrowed her eyes and crinkled her nose. “Who is it?” she mouthed.
I shrugged.
“I was given your information by an anonymous source who has seen and shared photos of your recent work. I understand that La Luz Gallery passed on a solo showing of your work, but we’d like to offer you the opposite.”
All at once, it felt like the blood had drained from my entire body. My bones turned to mush, and my heart leapt as I gripped the phone tightly to my ear. “You what?”
“Want to show your work. In two weeks’ time.”
“In two weeks?”
“Yes, is that going to be a problem? According to my source, you haven’t sold any of the paintings, and you’re not slated to show the architectural work for another month, which means we can scoop you up now. Is that not correct?” Her voice hardened.
I rubbed a hand over my face, not sure how to take what I was hearing. “No, I haven’t sold them and no, La Luz wasn’t going to show the architectural pieces until next month sometime. We hadn’t set a date.”
“Good for us. Bad for them. I’d like to come and take photos and specs of the canvases so that I can plan a layout. We’ll also need to determine pricing for the art, provided you want to sell them after the six-week long showing. Will that be possible today? There simply is no time to waste.”
My mind scrambled to keep up. Not only did my fondest dream call me directly, but they also were fast-tracking my career into the stratosphere, and I had no idea why. “No, that will be fine. I just…I didn’t expect you to call. This is all so sudden.”
“Yes, well, our owner is very interested in your work and having you show.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Say you’ll be prepared for me in two hours, Ingrid.”
“I’ll be prepared for you in two hours, Ingrid.”
We both chuckled, though hers was a bit more forced.
“All right then. We’ll see you in two hours,” she continued, reading off my address. How she got that, I had no idea.
Moe sipped at her coffee. “Who was that? I thought I was going to have to take the phone away and find out who was threatening you. In the span of a five-minute call, you went white as a ghost, then red as a strawberry, and now you just look shell-shocked.”
“That was Second Chances Gallery in San Francisco. They’re even bigger than La Luz.”
“And…” Moe rolled her hand in a move-it-along gesture.
“They want to do a showing of all my work in two weeks.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Oh. My. God. A full solo show?”
I nodded, no longer capable of speaking.
She jumped up and down and did a dance, and then she ran around to me. I hopped out of my stool, and she barreled into me with a hug. Then we jumped up and down, screaming at the top of our lungs, laughing and crying.
“I knew you could do it.” She wiped at her eyes. “I just knew someone special was going to see your art and know its value. We have to celebrate!”
“And we will.” I wiped at the tears tracking down my cheeks, too. “But first, we get ready because Ingrid is coming over in two hours to size and price the paintings and discuss a layout plan. Oh my god! This is so awesome and crazy, and I have to call Atlas!” I squealed and then it hit me. I couldn’t call Atlas. He was no longer in my life. He didn’t care about me getting my first solo showing because he left me.
“Yes, we’ll tell everyone!” Moe said, not catching on to my troubling moment.
I nodded and then plastered a thin smile on my face. “Yes, yes, we will.” Except for one person, because he doesn’t care anymore. I kept that last part to myself and followed Moe into my room so we could pick out what I was going to wear for the gallery rep who was coming to the house. Then we’d pick out what I was going to wear for the actual showing. My dreams were coming true. I was getting the one thing I’d always wanted. The shitty part—I no longer had the man I loved to share it with.
Sometimes, life sucked.
Chapter Twenty
Child’s Pose (Sanskrit: Balasana)
Child’s pose in yoga is the primary resting pose. It is used in almost every single yoga class to give the body and mind a moment of peace. Typically, the position has the arms out, lying on the mat, stretched out in front of you, but the modification of tucking the arms can also be done. Kneel with your knees wide. Lay your chest down between your bent legs resting your forehead on the mat. Stretch your arms out wide or tuck them in. Breathe.
MILA
Everything was perfectly in place. I followed Ingrid around the room, making sure each piece looked just right. The walls of the gallery were a muted gray. Red trim ran along the edge of the ceiling, giving it a very modern feel. Movable track lighting worked its magic, highlighting every single painting beautifully. I couldn’t have dreamed of such a stunning setup. Along one wall, the gallery had a bar, and a variety of bite-sized desserts were set up for patrons to nibble on while they perused the art. Waiters were set to walk around hand delivering appetizers and noshes. Ingrid assured me this was standard and that the gallery was paying for it. The event fees would come out of their cut on whatever sold. Which was risky in my opinion because what if nothing sold? Totally not my problem.
I shook my head, flinging away the negative thoughts. No, someone would buy a painting and when that happened, I’d silently squeal.
“Mila, I’ve changed the price on Blatant Desire because I honestly feel as though you’ve priced it far under its value.” Ingrid frowned.
Blatant Desire was the nude of Atlas sitting on the stool his erection strong and proud, standing at attention. I wanted that painting gone. G-O-N-E. I needed no further reminder of what that man meant to me, now or then.
“Whatever you say. I just really want it sold, so if someone seems interested and needs a price adjustment, feel free to go a few hundred lower so that it disappears.”
She nodded curtly and turned in her Louis Vuittons. In the corner, I was surprised to see a gallery attendant setting up a microphone, a stool, and small amplifier. As Ingrid breezed past, I grabbed her arm.
“There’s live music tonight?”
Ingrid smiled flatly as if it took her extreme effort to do so. “The new owner wanted to offer something special. It’s completely unprecedented. We’ve had music in the past but usually just pumped through the speakers, not live.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m told he’s very good. Anyway, he’s the boss and what he says, goes. Do you have a problem with it?”
I blinked and shook my head. “No, not at all.” I shrugged. “Whatever works.” The last thing I planned on doing was rocking the boat of the man who’d given me my first big break. “Did you ever find out how the owner learned about my art? Was it Steven at La Luz?”
She pursed her lips. “Not sure. Maybe. I didn’t question him since we were just recently informed he owned it. I was under the impression that there was someone out of state who owned it, but all of a sudden this young man was being introduced by the gallery lawyer as the new owner. Don’t worry, dear. The plan to show your work for the next six weeks was his idea, so you haven’t anything to be concerned about.”
Just as I was going to tell her to thank him, she bustled off again, her face pinched and her heels clicking against the marble floor, going after someone adjusting one of my paintings. “Don’t you touch that! Are you mad? That piece is worth several thousand dollars.”
I spun around on my wedge heels and slimmed down my simple red dress. It clung to every inch of my body, but I worked hard and I felt good about the way I looked. Today of all days I had to put up the front that I was happy. And I was, for the most part. My dreams were coming true, my paintings were on the walls of a swank S
an Francisco gallery, and all my friends were coming to see the show.
God, I miss Atlas. If I could only share this with him.
No matter what I did, the curly-haired yoga hottie was never far from my thoughts. I hadn’t seen him in a month, and I still couldn’t get him out of my mind. He’d left Lotus House and practically disappeared. At one point, I did break down and ask Dash if he’d seen him and whether or not he was okay. Dash said he’d gone to Hawaii to work out something. I knew that to be his father, but I didn’t share that with his friend. If he wanted to tell Dash about his father and where he’d been and what he’d been up to for the last twenty years, that was on him.
Dash did, however, confide in me that Atlas had taken a position with Knight & Day Productions. Hearing that information had filled my heart with extreme joy. Knowing that he didn’t lose out on all his musical options because of me made it somehow that much easier to breathe.
Slowly people started to fill the gallery. Way more people than I expected. I walked over to Ingrid and waited patiently behind her while she explained to prospective customers that the painting I’d labeled Tantric Innocence was the only painting hanging that was not for sale. Much to her dismay, I’d promised it to Dash and Amber and would not budge on it. She directed them over to the other painting around the corner that had a nude couple. It was actually the same couple, only they were facing one another. Amber had her legs around his waist and was sitting in his lap. Her breasts were smashed up against his chest, and they were kissing. If you didn’t know the couple personally, you’d never know it was them. They were fine with me painting this one and selling it, just not the one that showed their body parts or their faces forward.
“Ingrid, there are a lot more people here than I expected,” I said as the patrons kept coming through.
She nodded and glanced at the door. “Yes, the new owner spent a considerable dollar marketing this show. He’s apparently very taken with your art.” She grinned.
Divine Desire: A Lotus House Novel: Book Three Page 23