Josh’s cookware is all a bunch of old hand me downs, perfect for a man who never cooked for himself. So, I opt to have a lot of it packed up to send to Good Will, and the more worn pieces will just be tossed. Especially since my cookware is in so much better shape and already unpacked in the kitchen at the new house. But there are a couple of pieces that I purchased for his kitchen that I will take with me, namely the crockpot and the casserole dishes. And because I’m not sure if his plates and silverware are special to him or not, I’ll be taking those as well and we can sort that out later.
The movers get everything loaded into the truck and, once they’re ready, it’s back into the car for me. I drive over to the new house and supervise as they unload and unpack all over again, telling them where to put everything. And I watch with great interest as they set up the new exercise room, hanging the boxing bag from the ceiling and setting up all of the free weights onto their stand. I hope Josh is happy with the placement of the bag and the treadmill. But I suppose it’s not too much trouble to move things if he’s not.
There’s already an existing large flatscreen TV in both the game room and in the family room of the new house so, I have the TV from my place mounted above the fireplace in the master suite, while Josh’s flatscreen from his place is mounted on the wall in the exercise room. Then the small flatscreen that used to be in his old exercise room, is placed on the wall in the kitchen. I’ll have to wait for the satellite company to arrive to hook them up and to set up the wireless Internet system.
After everything is all unpacked and the movers and Mr. Martin have gone, I go about adding the personal touches to our new space as I wait. The first thing I do is strip the old bedding from the beautiful king sized bed in the master suite and replace it with the new bedding I bought yesterday. Then I unpack all of the knickknacks from my apartment and Josh’s place and scatter them about the house, placing them where I think they’ll look best. It’s not much for this large space but, it’ll do for now. Eventually, once all of the craziness of my art show calms down, I’ll contact a professional decorator to come and work with us. That way, Josh and I can really make the place our own, and perhaps that might help him to feel more comfortable here if he has a say in how it’s decorated.
I’ll also need to hire someone to maintain the beautiful grounds and a housekeeper as well. Not someone who lives here with us. I know that Josh wouldn’t like that idea and frankly, neither do I. If I wanted to live with servants at my beck and call, I’d still be in Bellevue at my mother’s. But someone to come by three or four times a week and do some light cleaning would be a great help with a home this size.
The workmen come to hook up the satellite for the television sets and the wireless Internet and, by the time they finish and leave, I sink into the sofa in the living room, completely exhausted. I had planned on running back to Lola’s gallery if the workmen finished early enough but now, even though Josh won’t be home for several more hours, I just don’t think I have the energy. He’s right, I am going to make myself sick with the crazy pace I’ve been keeping. I just didn’t want to wait until after the show to move in. I wanted it all done and over with right now!
“Doing things on a whim because you feel like it and money’s not an issue.”
Josh’s words from last night come floating into my mind. Maybe I am impulsive; that’s what he was implying, isn’t it? I sigh heavily at the thought and my phone buzzes at me. I answer it without checking the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Hey, baby.”
“Hi. I was just thinking about you.”
“Oh, yeah? What were you thinking?”
“About sweeping you off your feet,” I say softly and he chuckles at me. The sound makes me smile. “What are you doing?”
“Working. Thinking about you sweeping me off my feet.” His voice is low and sexy and I know that he’s trying not to be overheard by whoever is near him. Probably Dave Conner. “So, how’s the move coming along?”
“It’s all done,” I sigh. “Everything is all moved and unpacked and hooked up. Except, of course for everything in your garage.”
“Well, about that. Dave and Simon and Butler are gonna follow me over to the house after work and help me load up the tools into the rental truck, and then they’ll follow me to the new place and help me unload it all into the new garage.”
“That’s nice of them to help you,” I say, still feeling exhausted.
“Yeah but, it’ll probably take us a little while, and I know you wanted to go to the gallery tonight for a final run through with Lola so, don’t feel like you have to rush home for me. I know you have to be going crazy right about now with nerves, am I right?”
“Honestly, I’ve been so preoccupied with the move today I haven’t had time to stress about the show. But you’re right,” I say with a sigh. “I do need to grab a quick shower and get over to the gallery. And I have no idea what time I’ll be home.”
“It’s okay. You just do what you gotta do. I’ll see you when you get home.”
“Okay,” I say quietly, suddenly missing him. “Josh?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry for insisting we move immediately,” I say softly, feeling tired and foolish. “I should have slowed things down, like you said. I don’t know what possessed me. I just wanted to be in the house and settled and…”
“It’s all right, Sam,” he says quietly, cutting me off. “It’s over, don’t worry about it. And because you were so persistent, we’re all moved in. You’re incredible, you know that? You’re like a little force of nature sometimes and nothing can stop you.” He sounds slightly in awe and his words make me smile. “That’s why I know your opening tomorrow is going to be a huge success. Because you just don’t quit, baby.”
“Oh, Josh,” I whisper, tearfully. “You say the sweetest things to me sometimes.”
“I’m just being honest, Sam. Your show’s going to be amazing.”
*****
I am a total nervous wreck on Friday. I can barely concentrate at the museum in the morning and Nicole offers to take my tours so that I can leave early and focus on my opening tonight. And I’m so nervous I think I might vomit when she tells me that not only will she be there this evening, but so will our supervisor and the director of the museum, just to name a few. Seems they’re all very anxious to see my work. Yikes!
When I leave the museum I drive straight to the gallery. I know I’m probably being obsessive compulsive but, I can’t help it. I have to make sure everything’s on track and ready to go. And as I drive, I can’t help but think back to last night and how sweet Josh was when I got home from the gallery. He had gone to Dragon and Phoenix after he and his friends finished up with the garage, and picked us up a Chinese feast for dinner. And when I got home a couple of hours later, he warmed it up and lit a few candles, and we sat and ate our first meal together in our new dining room in our new home. We talked about his day and about the move. And when we finished our dinner, he surprised me by having me for desert. Without a word, he just got up and began clearing the dishes from the long, mahogany dining table, and then he picked me up and laid me down on that table.
“Josh! What are you doing?” I asked, shocked as he climbed up onto the table on top of me.
“Well, I thought we’d celebrate our new home by christening each room,” he said softly, smiling wickedly at me.
“Oh.” It was all I could manage at the time. He was so … hot!
“We’ll start with this one.”
We ended up ‘christening’ not only the dining room but, also our bathroom and bedroom as well! I smile at the delicious memories. They are the only thing keeping my nerves from running haywire right now. And apparently I am now driving Lola insane because she orders me to go home and relax after dealing with me for only a few minutes.
“Samantha, I promise you, it’s going to be perfect,” she tries to assure me. “If I have done my job properly – and I have – tonight’s openi
ng of your show is going to be amazing! I have made sure that all of the right people will be here. All I have to do is get them in the door and we’re home free!”
“How so?” I ask, feeling the panic begin to rise and she rolls her eyes at me as she sighs heavily.
“Because once they get a look at your work, Sam, it’s all over.”
“Over!”
“Bad choice of words,” she rolls her eyes again. “I mean over in a good way!”
“Oh. Well, what did you mean when you said all the right people will be here?”
“I mean all the right people,” she repeats. “I’ve invited everybody who’s anybody in the art community as well as the Seattle social scene. And I’ve seen to it that those art connoisseurs who are into collecting nudes received extra special invitations.”
Her eyes are gleaming with excitement as she talks, and I can’t help but get caught up in her enthusiasm as I listen.
“Samantha, I have billed you as the art world’s best kept secret. Daughter of the great Richard Colby, a man who was always quite generous with his philanthropic support of the arts; a man who saw the raw, natural talent his daughter possessed and then took great pains to nurture that talent. And now his efforts have paid off in the stunning works they’ll see tonight, painted and sketched by the beautiful and talented Miss Samantha Colby herself! Fulfilling the hopes and dreams her father had for her as a small child when he would take her to art museums and show her all of his favorite works of art!”
Jeez! If I didn’t know she was talking about me, I would want to buy one of the artist’s works based on Lola’s words alone! She really is good at this. And I know that I should be reassured by her words but, I’m still worried. I have some lingering concerns. And I’m about to open my mouth to voice those concerns but, Lola refuses to let me.
“Out. Right now, get out, go home, go … wherever it is that you go to relax and unwind. Just make sure you’re back here by about an hour before showtime, and wear something great for the press!”
“The press!” Oh, I really am going to be sick.
I leave the gallery and sit in my car, trying to collect my scattered thoughts and calm my nerves. Glancing at the clock in my car, I note that it’s just about lunchtime. Getting a really crazy idea in my head, I start up the car and pull carefully out into traffic. I hope he doesn’t get angry. I drive to a local deli and grab a couple of turkey and Swiss sandwiches and then continue to my destination.
I’ve never been to the police station before and, it isn’t until I am pulling into the parking lot that it dawns on me that Josh might not even be here. His job sends him all around the city sometimes, talking to victims and witnesses, studying crime scenes and such. I should probably check first.
Pulling out my cellphone, I take a deep breath as I dial. As always, he answers on the first ring. “Hi, baby.”
“Hi,” I answer, my voice a breathy whisper.
“Sam? Everything okay?”
“Um, yeah. Where are you?”
“I’m at work,” he chuckles.
“No, I know. But are you at the station?”
“Yes,” he says slowly, and I can hear the concern growing in his voice.
“Can you come outside for a while? Or can I come in?”
“Baby, what’s going on? Where are you?” he asks, and his voice has taken on a worried edge.
“I’m in the parking lot in my car,” I say quietly. “I brought you lunch. But then I realized I didn’t even know if you were in the building so … thought I should call first.” My voice sounds small and uncertain to my ears, and I’m sure Josh can hear it to.
There’s a slight pause from him before he says, “Get out of the car and go to the front door of the building. I’ll be right out.”
He hangs up and I gather the bag with our sandwiches and a bottle of water and get out of the car. As I walk through the crowded parking lot to the front door of the station, I begin to feel a little silly. But Lola told me to do whatever it is that makes me relax and unwind, and for me these days, that’s spending time with Josh.
As I near the door I see him emerge and he looks so good as he steps outside in his yummy jeans and pale blue dress shirt wearing his shoulder holster and gun. He smiles and wraps his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. Then, placing his hand on the small of my back, he leads me around to the side of the building where there’s a small cafe-style, iron table with two chairs, and we sit, neither of us talking as I open the bag and pull out our sandwiches.
Finally Josh speaks first. “What’s wrong, Sam?” he says, placing his fingers beneath my chin and lifting my face to look deep into my eyes.
“Nothing. I just thought we could have lunch together,” I lie.
“Baby, you’re on the verge of tears,” he says, still studying my eyes. “Don’t tell me ‘nothing.’ Why did you come here, Sam?”
I can’t stop the tears from falling. I am so worked up right now and I feel so foolish. Josh scoots his chair over so that he’s seated directly in front of me, and he pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly.
“Is this about your show, Sam?” he asks softly, and my tears continue to fall.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking up at him. “I am just a bundle of nerves right now. I am so worried about tonight.”
“Baby, it is normal to be nervous. Especially if you’ve never done something before. This is your very first gallery showing of your work. You being nervous about that is the most natural thing in the world.” His voice is soft and caressing as he gently wipes away my tears with his thumbs. “But the important thing to remember, Sam, is that you can’t let those nerves get the best of you. It’s like having stage fright, you know? Every other Saturday night, before the band goes on, I have the worst case of stage fright you could imagine.”
I frown at his words. This is news to me. “You do?”
“Yes, baby, I do,” he says, looking into my eyes. “And that first night you came. Oh, my God! I was so nervous that night. I just kept praying that we wouldn’t suck, ’cause I knew that if we did, it was going to be all my fault because I was so freaked out that you were there!”
I can’t help the slow smile I feel spreading across my face right now. “Are you making this up just to try and make me feel better?” I ask softly.
“I am telling you the gospel truth, baby,” he says looking deep into my eyes. “And I know that getting onstage and playing an instrument isn’t quite the same as inviting a bunch of strangers to view your artwork but, I think the same principles apply … just like any other art form. You’re still opening yourself up, putting your heart and soul on the line, allowing others to view or listen to or read something that you created, something that came from your heart and that you’ve spent a great deal of time and energy and effort on. And you slave and obsess over it, making sure it’s as perfect as you can possibly make it, only to put it out there and hope and pray that someone might be touched by it.” He pauses for a second and then adds softly, “That’s just the nature of the artist. All artists.”
I am overwhelmed by his words and by the passion in his voice. I throw my arms around him, hugging him tightly, and he laughs slightly at me. Then I release him and look into his eyes. “I love you, Josh,” I say softly. “Thank you.”
“For what? I didn’t do anything,” he shrugs.
I nod my head. “Yes, you did.”
We eat our lunch then, chatting about his day, and by the time we finish our sandwiches, I am feeling much better about tonight. As we’re sharing the bottle of water, Josh glances at his watch and sighs.
“I should get back inside.”
“Okay,” I smile.
“Thank you for bringing me lunch,” he smiles.
“Thank you for talking me back from the ledge,” I reply and he laughs. Then he reaches out and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear, and he leans in and kisses me. We stand up and gather up our trash, discarding it in a nearby waste bin, and
then he takes my hand and walks me to my car. He opens the door for me and kisses me once more.
“I’ll see you at home in a few hours,” he says softly.
“Okay.”
“I love you, Sam,” he says quietly, his words taking me by surprise as he lightly runs the back of his index finger down my cheek to my chin. Then he leans down and kisses me again, passionately this time. By the time I get into my car, I am practically floating on air. And I remain in that dreamy state of euphoria the entire trip back home. I park my car right beneath the portico and walk into the house, feeling as if my feet aren’t even touching the ground. It’s the Joshua Pierce effect and I am so high on it.
*****
“So … how do you deal with the stage fright?” I ask softly, anxiously twisting my fingers as I glance toward the door. We’re standing in the middle of the gallery, waiting for the doors to open and my show to begin.
“Deep breaths, baby,” Josh says quietly, smiling at me. “In through the nose and out through the mouth. Look at me, come on … breathe with me,” he says, inhaling deeply for a moment and motioning for me to do the same. I do as he tells me, inhaling deeply for a moment and then releasing it. As he breathes with me, I look him over. He is dressed in his black suit with a white dress shirt and a stripped green tie, chosen to compliment my emerald green Karen Zambos Vintage Couture cocktail dress. He looks so sexy in a suit; talk about yummy! And he is being so supportive and attentive; he is just adorable.
We take several calming deep breaths and, by the time we’re done, I really do feel slightly better and I smile at him. He leans in and kisses my forehead.
“Better?”
Pierced: Pierced Trilogy Boxed Set Page 80