Stealing Sunshine

by Tina Michele

  As Belle lay on her shoulder, Tara pulled her dress up and zipped it for her. Belle’s laugh was muffled in Tara’s neck. “Umm…” she said as she sat up and looked down at her chest. Tara had succeeded in zipping her up. The problem was that she wasn’t in it. Belle’s breasts had both managed to get left out of her dress.

  They laughed as Belle reached around, unzipped, and re-zipped her dress with all of her body parts inside. “I liked it better the other way.” Tara smiled.

  “Of course you do.” Belle stood and pulled down her dress. It was wrinkled and disheveled. She smoothed down her dress and said, “All right, well, we can’t go back in there like this, so I guess you can just take me home.” Had Belle had her own vehicle, Tara was certain this was where she was supposed to walk off into the night and leave Tara in awe of their encounter. But alas, Belle was not that smooth.

  Tara would’ve taken Belle anywhere looking like anything, if she’d wanted to go. She just wanted to be with her. “So how about some dinner?” She looked at herself and then at Belle, “Drive-thru?” Tara reached out for Belle’s hand.

  “Sure.” Belle smiled, but she didn’t take Tara’s hand. Instead she spun around as she remembered something. “Oh crap. I forgot to get the name of that art dealer from your mother.”

  “No worries. It’s Otto Rosenberg.” Tara’s hand dropped down to her side.

  “Great. Thanks.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tara had tossed and turned the entire night as her mind replayed every detail about the night before. After she dropped Belle off, Tara drove aimlessly around town for almost two hours before she found her way home. As she closed her eyes to sleep, she could still feel Belle’s kisses and her soft body pressed against her. Tara had gone to bed, but her head refused to let her sleep. Tara watched the time change from 5:59 to 6:00 a.m. She decided after five hours of restlessness that she just needed to get out of bed.

  She padded across her room to the bathroom and started the shower. She stripped out of her tank and shorts and stepped into the hot spray. She let the water sluice down her body and rinse away the tension that knotted inside her. The more she thought about it the more discontented she became. Belle had her in a clashing whirl for weeks, struggling with their undeniable differences and independent outlooks. Belle was confronted with truths about Tara that should’ve sent her running, but hadn’t. It was clear to Tara that Belle was not impressed by her social status or wealth even before she’d found out. So she didn’t understand why, if Belle was turned off by Tara’s honest avoidance of commitment, she still gave herself to Tara.

  The thought that Belle had decided to take advantage of Tara in a strictly physical way made her uncomfortable. The thought that she even cared surprised her more than she anticipated. Sure, plenty of women had done the same, and Tara couldn’t have cared less; it was her free ticket. But she never would have pegged Belle as being one of them, and it bothered her.

  Tara got out of the shower and wrapped herself in a towel. Without drying off, she walked to her nightstand and picked up her phone. As her wet body dripped onto the floor, she sent a text to Cate and Lucy.

  Available for a girls’ meeting? I need to talk.—T

  Tara sat on the bed in her wet towel and held her phone in her lap. I think she used me. The idea left Tara rattled. Her phone chimed and two messages popped up.

  My place. Now!—Lucy

  Are you okay? On my way—Cate

  Tara wasn’t certain what she was.

  See you then.—T

  Tara slipped on a pair of jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of flip-flops, and headed out the door. It was a cool morning, but Tara slipped the cover off the Jeep and tossed it onto the ground near the garage. She needed the breeze and loud music to shake her mind loose.

  Twenty minutes of hard rock later, she pulled up to her sister’s house. It was barely after seven a.m., and she couldn’t remember the last time she had seen that time of the morning. It was refreshing considering that she was running on zero hours of sleep.

  Cate pulled up as Tara climbed out of her Jeep.

  “What the hell? Are you okay?” Cate asked as she trotted up to Tara. “Yikes, you look like shit.”

  Tara chuckled; she knew that much. “Yeah, no sleep. What’s your excuse?” Tara asked as she motioned to Cate’s frumpy pajama pants and cow slippers.

  “I was sleeping. Come on then.” Cate linked her arm with Tara and headed into the house.

  The smell of fresh brewed coffee drew them toward the kitchen. Three steaming cups sat on the table in the breakfast nook, and Lucy carried a tray of cream and sugar in from the kitchen. “Hey.” Lucy said, still in her nightgown and robe.

  “Did I wake both of you up? You didn’t have to—”

  “Shut the hell up. When do you ever send an SOS?” Cate said as she slid across the bench and cupped the mug in her hands.

  “No kidding. Sit.” Lucy directed her.

  Tara felt that maybe she had overreacted about the whole thing and calling a “meeting” was overkill. “You know, it’s not a big deal.”

  “Bullshit. I talked to Mom last night after the party. So, out with it. What happened after you chased after her?”

  “Hold up. What happened?” Cate said.

  Lucy sat up straight and turned to Cate. “Oh. Okay, so Tara took Belle to the ballet gala last night, and after Belle schooled Mom about the painting in the library—”

  “She didn’t school her, Luce. She—”

  “Shhh, Tara. I need to give the back story.” Lucy tapped her hand on the table in front of Tara.

  “Fine.” There was no use in Tara trying to correct her sister. She was going to tell her way no matter what.

  “Thank you. Okay. So Belle gives Mom a lecture on Rembrandt and even calls Mr. Rosenberg an ass.”

  Tara interjected. “No. She called him shitty.”

  “Will you let me tell the story? You know the rules.”

  Yes, she knew “the rules.” She made them up. But it was to her advantage since she was always the one to get to tell the story about how Cate flashed her boobs at the bus driver or how Lucy stole the Lion King collector’s cards from the flea market. She wasn’t appreciating “the rules” from this side of the table. “Meh, fine.”

  Cate leaned forward and rested her chin in her hands. “This is more fun when it’s not about me.”

  “I know, right? Okay. So, Tara never told Belle who she was or where they were going last night because when Mom introduced herself, Belle freaked and ran out! Tara followed her and neither of them came back.”

  “Oooh! Really?” Cate raised her eyebrows and turned her head toward Tara.

  Lucy did the same and said, “Yup.”

  “I officially regret this.” Tara flopped her head into her hands.

  “Aww. Come on! You’ve been doing this to us since we were nine years old. It’s our turn.”

  “She’s ruining this for us.”

  “All right, fine. What happened after you went after her?” Lucy patted Tara on the thigh.

  Tara told them how she followed her to the car and then to the gazebo. “First she told me that it was never going to work between us, and then the next thing you know she…we…right there by the lake.” Tara left out all of the wonderful and vivid details that flashed in her mind.

  “So what’s the problem? That’s what you wanted all along, remember?”

  “No. Well, yes, kinda. But it was different. She went from no to go in mere seconds.”

  “Maybe she turned the tables on you.”

  “What? How’s that?”

  “She assessed the situation and took what she could get from it. She knows that you won’t ever give her more than that, so she figured she’d enjoy it for what it is. A good time. No attachment.”

  Tara couldn’t imagine that Belle was that type of person. She was too passionate and connected to everything around her to be able to give herself to someone like that without any feelings
. “No. She isn’t like that. Belle Winters doesn’t open herself up like that to people.”

  “How do you know? We all have times of weakness and make poor decisions. Or we just get caught up in the moment.”

  Tara thought about it for a moment. “So I was right.”

  “About what?” Lucy asked.

  “She used me.”

  Lucy and Cate looked at each other but said nothing.

  “Don’t do that shit. What?” Tara said.

  “It’s nothing you haven’t done to all the girls before her,” Lucy said and Cate reluctantly nodded.

  They were right, and Tara couldn’t even defend herself against it. “Maybe she did. I guess I deserve it.”

  “I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that it was bound to happen eventually.”

  “We just don’t go together. You know. She’s right about that. We couldn’t be more different. She’s more passionate about one painting than I’ve ever been about any single thing in my entire life.”

  “That’s not a bad thing, Tara.”

  “Sure, I’ve done things, but nothing that ever meant anything. You should’ve seen her face the night I told her that I’d never settle down. How do you disappoint someone you don’t even know? Because I did. Now she thinks I’m just a spoiled trust-funder without any goals or responsibility. And she’s right.” Tara twisted her cup in her hands.

  “That doesn’t make you a bad person, Tara. You are kind, generous, and loving. You’re a wonderful person.” Cate reached across the table for Tara’s hand. “You’re still searching for your place, and that’s okay.”

  “Is it?”

  “Sure. You’ll find it, or her, soon enough. Speaking of, what are you going to do about Belle?” Lucy asked, changing the subject back to the reason Tara had called the meeting in the first place.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think I’m in control of that situation anymore.”

  “Aww. That’s cute. She thinks she was in control at one point.” Cate winked at Lucy.

  She would never say it out loud, but Cate was right. When it came to Belle, she never did have any control.

  *

  Belle rolled over and opened her eyes. Her first thought was of the night before and how Tara had touched and pleased her. She smiled, and then the truth set in. She covered her face with her pillow and screamed. She laughed and kicked wildly under her covers. I cannot believe I did that. Belle touched her lips that were still raw from their fevered kisses. She grabbed her phone and hoped that Tara might have sent her a message. Although she wasn’t surprised, she was disappointed that there were no texts.

  The night had ended after they’d swung through a drive-thru for fast food and ate it on the way back to Belle’s. She had decided not to ask Tara to come up. Her reason had been twofold. She didn’t want Tara to feel obligated to say yes or complicate Belle’s decision to keep herself detached. It was just sex. That’s how it was supposed to be with one-night stands, after all. It was her first though, so she was still new to the game and didn’t know all, or any, of the rules.

  Belle had fallen asleep to the echoes of Tara’s quiet moans and quick labored breathing in her ears. And now that she was awake, they were no less intense. She needed to get out of bed and find something to distract her so she could stop replaying every hot and delicious detail.

  Belle stumbled out of bed and went to the kitchen to make coffee. On most Sunday mornings she went next door, but she was in no mood to discuss her night with them. It was then that she remembered the rest of the evening and how she ended up half-naked in Tara’s gazebo in the first place.

  Belle groaned. How ridiculous and immature she must’ve looked to Tara’s mother after she unknowingly schooled her on the Rembrandt and then ran out of the room like a child. “Oh! But that painting!” It was so exquisite in its current state Belle couldn’t imagine how remarkable it would be when restored by a professional. “Why wasn’t it restored?” she asked herself as she poured her cup of coffee. It didn’t make any sense to her. Even if this Otto Rosenberg person was the worst art dealer around, he should’ve at least done that much.

  Belle carried her mug to the couch and pulled her computer onto her lap. She opened up the browser and ran a search for his name. She scanned through the first few entries but stopped cold when she recognized another right away. The last entry on the page read Florida art dealer Rosenberg sues multi-millionaire Grayson for collection ownership.

  “What the hell?” Belle said as she clicked the link.

  A picture of a handsome middle-aged Giles and an attractive younger man loaded at the top of the page. Belle scrolled down to read the article.

  Private art dealer Otto “Roz” Rosenberg has filed a lawsuit against millionaire Giles Grayson alleging that he is owed no less than half of the net worth of the massive art collection that he amassed for the Grayson estate.

  “Roz?” Belle knew the name. She had heard it once many years earlier before Giles had died. He’d told her that there was only ever one man in his life that he’d ever loved and his name was Roz.

  He’d spoken of him just once and only for long enough to say that of everything that he’d done in his life, he wished he could’ve done that part over again. Belle could remember the heartache in his eyes as he told her about the man he loved in private, away from the prying eyes of society. But he had loved him with everything he had until the day Roz broke his heart and his trust. She never knew how, but she feared that the article open in front of her would fill in all those blanks.

  Belle flicked her nails against her teeth as she read the story.

  Court filings by Rosenberg allege that the two men were in both an intimate domestic partnership for six years as well as a business during the time the art was acquired by Rosenberg for the millionaire’s extensive collection. A claim that the Grayson camp has not acknowledged beyond the fact that Rosenberg was under employ as Grayson’s personal art dealer and purchaser.

  As Belle read the story, she felt sorry for Roz. She knew Giles had loved him but not that he had publicly denied or omitted the importance of their relationship. It was something that must have devastated the young Roz.

  While the Grayson counsel did not comment on the alleged relationship, they did bring forward their own accusations of impropriety on the part of Rosenberg and his subsequent dismissal from Grayson’s employment. The Grayson camp claims that Rosenberg used approximately $125,000 of unapproved funds to purchase a Jasper Johns painting that he resold for a personal $72,000 profit.

  Belle’s sympathetic feelings for Roz vanished when she read that he had stolen money from Giles and turned a profit right under his nose. She knew then what Giles meant about his broken heart and broken trust. She was ill to know that someone had betrayed him in such a way—to steal and trick someone by using their love and trust against them was reprehensible. But it was the last part of the story that surprised her even more.

  While Giles had won the lawsuit, he never made Roz pay back any of the money he’d stolen or the profit he’d made from it. She wondered if his decision was done out of guilt or love, maybe both, but she loved him nonetheless. She did have a new and nagging suspicion that Mr. Otto Rosenberg was dealing in the shady world of black market art.

  She grabbed her phone and sent a text to Tara.

  Good Morning. Sorry to bother you, but I’ve got something to tell you about Otto Rosenberg.—B

  Good morning to you! You are no bother to me. Really?—T

  Belle blushed and then responded.

  Do you want to meet later?—B

  Sure, but I got called in to cover for Scott at the museum until 11. :(

  No problem. Why don’t I just meet you there?

  Okay. :) I’ll see you then, sunshine.

  Belle’s cheeks burned and she smacked herself in the head with her phone. “Eleven o’clock at night? What were you thinking?” she asked herself sarcastically. She knew what she was thinking; she wanted to see Tara
, no matter what time it was.

  Chapter Twenty

  Tara never had a problem getting called in to work at the museum. It was an easy job, and she could spend the time she took doing her rounds to appreciate all of the things that reminded her of Belle. But this night was different because she could’ve already been spending it with her instead of waiting until eleven p.m. She was a little surprised that Belle had agreed to meet so late that night. Tara wondered what information could be so urgent that she couldn’t wait to share. Of course a part of her hoped that it was so that they could relive a few of the better moments from the night before.

  Out of all her coworkers, Xander was by far her least favorite to work with. Thankfully, she only had to cover for a couple of hours until her relief arrived at eleven. At ten p.m., Tara prepared for her last round and checked the internal and external camera feeds. As expected, the halls were clear and the perimeter cameras showed two OPD officers that made their own evening rounds. Tara tested her radio and headed off down the hall with her checklist.

  Without Scott to entertain her with his shenanigans and challenges, patrol was dead silent and boring. Every crack and creak in the building was amplified by the tall ceilings and stone floors. She made her way through the gallery and down to the vault corridor. She walked along the glass wall and imagined Belle standing on the other side smiling at her as she always did. When her radio crackled to life, she all but jumped out of her skin. “Tara, you there?”

  Tara cursed at him under her breath. “Yes. What’s up?”

  “Uh, the PD is at the door saying they got a call of an alarm in the building. I don’t have any indicators on my panel. Should I let ’em in?”