Power Play

by Vera Roberts

  Sarah pushed out the breath her lungs held captive and continued. Over the past several months, she and Jameson had their private long-distance romance. She flew out twice a month to see him, often staying in a separate hotel so Sydney wouldn’t get suspicious. She also made it a point not to let Sydney – or anyone else for that matter – know about her relationship at all.

  She didn’t know Jameson was serious but even if he was faking his emotions, he was a brilliant actor. “I think we should keep whatever we got going, private.”

  “Whatever we got going?” He slowly repeated. “And what do you think we got going?”

  “This,” she gestured, “we’re not dating.”

  “We’re not?” His Italian accent bit.

  “And I’m not normally your type…”

  “You’re not?”

  “Marcello,” she finally referred to him by his given name, “you can stop the pity party. You don’t have to date me because your best friend is dating someone, okay? I know Sydney is hot, cute, and is a dress size that’s much smaller than my shoe size. A professional athlete like you should be with a model or someone more of his caliber.”

  “You’re my caliber,” he stated with such authority, it caused a shiver up Sarah’s spine. “I’ve dated models and you want to know why I stopped? I’ll tell you why I stopped. I will take her out to the best restaurant and while I’m enjoying the juiciest porterhouse known to man, she’s in the bathroom barfing up the watercress she half-ate. I put my arms around her waist and there’s still room where I can hug myself. I’ve watched a golf game…a fucking golf game…while she’s upstairs putting on makeup and wearing some designer outfit I have no idea how to even pronounce that shit. So when I say I want a real woman, I want the one I’m staring at.”

  Sarah gulped and slowly breathed out the second breath she held. “Oh.” She dapped her brow with a handkerchief. It was surprisingly warm in the air-conditioned truck. “I like steak.”

  “That’s another thing we have in common – we both love to eat.” His eyes continued to bore holes into her soul.

  Sarah matched his intensity stare. “I was referring to food, J.”

  Jameson grabbed a bottle of water. “I know you were. And you know I wasn’t, ” he winked before he left.

  “He is going to be the death of me,” Sarah giggled.

  ****

  “Just breathe, baby girl.” Dean rubbed her back. Jameson poured water into a cloth and Dean held it on Sydney’s neck. “It’s just nerves.”

  “I need to cancel tonight.” She coughed and spit out excess saliva. “I can’t…I can’t do this.” She shook her head.

  “No, you can and you will. It’s just your nerves.” Dean reassured. He gently rubbed her back in hopes to calm her nerves. “You’ve been waiting for this moment your whole life, Syd. This is what you wanted. If you turn back and go home now, you’re going to regret that.”

  “I’m not going to sell a single piece,” she coughed.

  “Maybe. And maybe you might sell all of them. You don’t know unless you try.” She finally stood and Dean wiped her mouth with the handkerchief. He gave her the bottled water and Sydney rinsed out her mouth. “I know it’s easy to give in when you’ve been doing it as a hobby and never actually pursued it. I get it, babe. I loved hockey as a kid but when I went to the majors, I just knew I was going to disappoint many people. I got sick just like you, throwing up no less than five times my first night. And while I didn’t do as well as I’d hoped, I didn’t fail like I thought I would. I need you to try this one time for me. And if it’s a failure, well, we’ll have to see what we can do the next go-round so it’s more successful. Quitting isn’t a word in my dictionary.”

  Sydney wrapped her arms around Dean and tightly squeezed him. “You always know what to say.”

  “I’m an artist, myself. My art involves a hockey stick and puck while yours involve paints, markers, and a canvas. Creatives only understand other creatives.” His raspy voice comforted her as he rubbed her back. “Now, you’re in charge here. Say the word and we’ll be on our way.”

  “I’m ready,” she nodded.

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah,” she stepped back and sighed under the brisk L.A. night. “I only have this one shot and I don’t know when it’ll come again. Let’s do this.”

  “That’s my girl!” Dean pulled out a stick of gum and gave it to her. “Because vomit breath is not a first impression you want to make.”

  ****

  Ian was flabbergasted.

  Every single piece by Sydney was more spectacular than the one before. This wasn’t someone who just had a talent. No, it was much more than that. She was sent by the heavens to bless Earth of her talents.

  Sure, he might have been a bit dramatic with his feelings but there were no other ways to describe Sydney’s use of bright and bold colors, infusing pop culture and social justice within her art, eliciting the most passionate emotions from whoever dared to view her work. It was clear she drew just for her, and not for anyone else. She was unapologetic, risky, and most importantly, perfect for Ian’s vision.

  Now, he just needed to meet his new muse.

  ****

  “Thank you, everyone for coming out tonight. This is a really big deal for me. I know a lot of you know me from online but yes, this is me and this all of my art.” Sydney spoke to a rousing applause. “I’m going to be honest, I was super nervous coming here and I have to thank my fiancée for helping me through. I’m going to be working on a piece during this time so feel free to approach me or watch, depending on what you want. If there’s something you’re interested in, please let the gallery members know and they’ll help you. Other than that, enjoy!” Sydney walked outside to a patio area, stood in front of an enormous blank, white canvas, and began to draw.

  From a short distance, Ian watched Sydney as she drew. He recognized the oversized oval as the face. Several long, wavy lines indicated hair. He found an empty space on a wall and leaned against it as his eyes focused on Sydney. She quickly worked a simple sketch of a face with an open-mouth expression. Ian became curious as to what Sydney would emotion Sydney would create – Rage? Anger? Sadness?

  Interesting start. He calmly sipped his champagne as he focused more on what she was doing. She chose not to use paints, but instead aerosol sprays. It was a fact that intrigued Ian because he found out how versatile Sydney was. She’s an enigma.

  “You see anything you like?”

  Ian recognized Dominique’s voice as he eyes carefully watched Sydney. It was more than she was a beautiful woman. She had an air about her – an aura, if you will, that made just about everyone in the room stop what they were doing and watch her work. Even when she made a small mistake – a fact Ian only knew when he understood Sydney mouthing the phrase damn it – she brushed it off and continued without a beat. “I see a lot of something I like.”

  “I meant the art, you cad.”

  Ian managed to pull his eyes away from Sydney long enough to glance at Dominique. Wearing a simple outfit of dark jeans and a bright pink top, she stood a little taller than usual with four-inch stilettos. Despite Dominique being too young for Ian’s standards, the outfit made her look very womanly. “Beautiful outfit you have on tonight.”

  “You like it?” Dominique glanced down. “My date said the same thing.”

  Ian thought he misheard and slowly turned his attention to his assistant. “Your date?”

  “So, how can I help you?” She changed the subject.

  Ian changed it back. “What date?”

  Dominique sharpened her eyes at her boss. “I do have a life that revolves outside you, you know?”

  Ian’s eyes shifted around the gallery until he found his target. A lanky, tall man who was in desperate need for a tan and a stylist caught his attention. “Him?” He nodded.

  “Was there something I can help you with, Ian?” Dominique strained to hide the annoyance in her voice.

  “Do me
a favor, pick a couple of pieces you think I’ll like and make sure they’re sent to the gallery. I want to hang them in my office.”

  “You got it,” Dominique sipped her champagne. “Anything else?”

  “Pick up something you would like for yourself,” Ian’s eyes glanced over to Dominique’s date, “and make sure your boss approves.”

  Dominique bit back an eye roll. She could never tell if Ian was serious or his normal, annoying facetious self. A part of her wondered if jealousy even existed inside Ian. She remembered the endless parade of women Ian seemingly flaunted everywhere and quickly realized the only one who was jealous was actually her. “Is that all?”

  “Once the artist is done, I want to have a private meeting with her.” Ian’s eyes turned back to Sydney. The sketch quickly began to take shape of a woman. “I’m going to make her an offer she can’t refuse.”

  ****

  It was weird, Sydney thought.

  She was terrified about hosting her first show. She chose to lightly eat only to vomit the peanut butter and jelly sandwich Dean made for her. Her stomach was wracked with a million nerves and it seemed her skin was a prickly cactus to the touch. She thought about every possible thing that could go wrong and wondered if she was better off just being a quiet WAG like some of the women she knew.

  After painting for a while, she just about forgot she was there.

  It was then she’d realized something she’d known all along – painting was her saving grace. She didn’t have to worry about he said, she said. She didn’t care who didn’t like her and was only appreciative to those who did. She felt freer than a cloud in the sky. All she needed was a blank canvas and some paint. Hell, she could paint for weeks at a time if she could.

  No one came up to disrupt her and she was able to work in peace. Beaded sweat streamed down her face and the facemask was able to catch a little of it. Dishwashing gloves protected her hands and they were covered in various paint colors. She occasionally wiped the adjoining eye mask when the light L.A. wind blew a little back. She silenced the noise by putting in her earbuds, and focused on her artwork as Halsey’s Castle blasted in her ears.

  Rich colors such as plum, blood orange, ruby red, and chocolate brown covered the white canvas. Once she was done with her painting, she stood back to admire it. It was a dark-skinned woman singing with a silver microphone near her ruby red lips. There was deep golden crown above her head.

  She named the woman the only name that came to mind – Mahalia. It reminded her of her grandmother who used to listen to gospel singer Mahalia Jackson. She used the title of an old Edwin Hawkins Singers song to perfectly capture the painting and how she felt – Oh Happy Day.

  She finally removed both masks as she admired her work. A small crowd gathered around her and gave Sydney a rousing applause, to which she bent down and nodded to show gratitude. She chatted with a few patrons and even took some selfies with others.

  “So how does it feel, man?” Jameson asked Dean as they watched Sydney from the bar inside the gallery. “Your girl is a superstar now.”

  “Man, it’s a dream come true for both of us. She gets to do her artwork and just be free. Her art has actually helped us in many ways. I’m still trying to each her how to cook but she’s getting the hang of it.” Dean added. “How are you doing? How’s the recovery going?”

  “Slow and painful,” Jameson shrugged, “but I’ll see the doctor later this week and once he clears, I’ll begin training again. I miss being out on the ice.”

  “We miss you, too, man. It’s been brutal out there. People know you’re injured and next thing, it’s like open season on us.”

  “Yeah, because I’m not there to block anyone’s shots,” Jameson chuckled. “They all know they’re not getting anything as long as I’m front of that net.”

  “Can’t wait to have you back on the ice. You’re definitely needed.” Dean’s eyes caught a distinguished gentleman approaching Sydney. He wore a dark suit with open collar. Dean recognized the difference – there were rich people and then they were wealthy ones.

  Sydney’s new fan was definitely the latter and not the former. Dean kept his eyes glued on Sydney’s interaction with the Wealthy Dude while he spoke with his best friend. “So, what do you think of Sarah? She’s single.”

  She’s brilliant, sexy, and incredibly funny was what Jameson wanted to say. While they were still considered to be only casually dating, Jameson hoped things would begin to get more serious and a possible move to L.A. might be in the cards for Sarah. That is, if she could understand one tiny issue that might stand between them for the time being.

  Still, he respected Sarah’s request on keeping their relationship private, though he couldn’t understand why. “She’s a fun gal.”

  Dean’s eyes narrowed at Sydney’s interaction when the man touched her bare arm. Why in the hell did he invade her space like that? Dean didn’t consider himself the jealous type but there was something a bit unnerving about Wealthy Dude. “I sense there’s a but in there…”

  “No, no buts. You and I both know the reason why I’m not particularly popular with the groupies.”

  “Eh, you’re not missing much.” Dean shook his head. “Long gone are the days of hooking up with one and keeping it private between you. Nowadays, you hook up with one and you run the risk of being gossip blog notorious for a short while.”

  “Besides that. My faith in God is a strong one and I know not many women would understand why I’m waiting until marriage.” Jameson gave a self-depreciating shrug. “The old Jameson probably would’ve fucked Sarah by now. This one? Waiting.”

  “Syd recently suggested we wait thirty days before we get married,” Dean glanced over to Jameson’s shocked expression, “believe me, I know!”

  “Are you going to?” Jameson asked. “More power if you do.”

  “Yeah, and more hurt to my balls if it happens,” Dean noticed Wealthy Dude inch a bit closer to Sydney. It was his clue to make his presence known. “We’ll see. Excuse me.”

  “Hey, let me know how it works out for you!” Jameson called out as Dean waved back. Jameson took a drink of his beer and sighed. He briefly looked around for Sarah and he saw her talking to another art lover about Sydney’s work. They caught eyes and he winked at her, blowing her a small kiss, and she shyly giggled.

  She was a great woman and he was afraid of losing her if he wasn’t completely honest with her about his past. He just hoped she would understand.

  ****

  She felt a presence.

  It wasn’t Dean but someone else. Someone more powerful, more intimidating. As Sydney finished her conversation with two admirers, she turned around and locked eyes with him.

  Stunning blue eyes rested on a tanned face. Dark, cropped hair with a matching light goatee finished out his features. He had an air of old money about him.

  She couldn’t help but to remain still as he calmly approached her, as if he cautiously stalked her like prey. His eyes were fixed on hers as he stepped closer and closer to her.

  It felt like silence and everyone else was tuned out. It was just them with their eyes locked on each other. It was then Sydney realized she held her breath and felt her heart pound against her chest.

  Who was Mystery Man and why did he captivate her the way he did?

  She suddenly remembered where she was and put on a professional face. “Hello!” Sydney greeted. Are you interested in a piece?” She hopefully asked. She'd already made a few sales that night but it wouldn’t hurt to have several more.

  “Actually, I'm interested in this one. I want to buy it now.” Ian turned to her. He'd heard about Sydney and controversy she was in, and thought she was attractive in pictures. Seeing her in person, however, was a punch to his gut. She was breathtaking. Her chocolate brown hair was pinned in a messy bun. Bright swatches of paint were smeared on her face, arms, and her overalls. Ian loved seeing that. It told him Sydney had no qualms getting dirty for the sake of art.

 
She wore a light scent and briefly struggled to remember what it was. Then he suddenly hit him, it was Coco Mademoiselle. His artist was wearing Chanel perfume at her exhibit. Most of the artists he’d encountered smelled like day-old funk and what he liked to refer to as baking soda and oppression, but his Sydney…his Sydney, smelled like hope, wonder, and fantasy.

  “Oh, well, I haven’t thought of a price,” Sydney stammered. “I just did it to show everyone I’m legit despite the controversy.”

  “And that’s wonderful.” Ian studied the art piece and walked closer to it. “I see you’ve been influenced by Kara Walker and Carrie Mae Weems.”

  Sydney sheepishly smiled. “You are the only person who would’ve guessed that!”

  “I know great art when I see it. I also know the next big thing when I see it.” Ian turned to her and walked back. “Name your price and I’ll buy it.”

  “What if it’s expensive?” Sydney joked.

  “I think I’ll be able to afford it,” He touched her arm, “how much do you think you’re worth?”

  “Well, I’m priceless,” Sydney chuckled as she tried to brush off the warm sensation the stranger caused her, “duh!”

  “That’s what I like to her.” He stepped closer to her. “I’m Ian Ferguson from the Ferguson Gallery.”

  “No way!” Sydney gasped. She’d been a huge fan of the gallery for years and now a member of the famed Ferguson dynasty was in front of her. “I’m Sydney Walker! Pleasure to meet you!”

  “Pleasure is all mine.” Ian grinned.

  “Hey babe,” Dean joined Sydney’s side and planted a big kiss on her cheek. “Great painting! It’s gorgeous!”

  “Thanks, babe! I just sold it!” Sydney beamed. “To Ian here.”

  Dean turned his attention to Wealthy Dude, who finally had a name. Ian. Of course, it was. He knew of plenty of cool and laidback Ians but the man in front of him was not one of them. “Hello there.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry for being so rude. Ian, this is my fiancée Dean Winchester. He plays center position for the L.A. Kings.” Sydney introduced, causing a smile from Dean.