Heartfelt

by Danielle Allen

  “What? You can’t say something like that and then leave!” Nina’s eyes blinked furiously behind her glasses. She hopped to her feet. “That’s way too broad. He could be anything from a serial killer to a serial dater. I need more information.”

  “I don’t know what else to tell you, Nina. I’m just trying to do my due diligence and let you know that I think he’s bad news.”

  She looked at me over the frame of her glasses and moved her hands to her hips. “Does this have anything to do with Bianca?”

  It was my turn to look surprised. “What?”

  “Listen, I’ve heard Bianca tell clients and customers alike that she is involved. If this is some roundabout way to thwart off admirers, you’re wasting your time. And mine.”

  I’m trying to warn her about Ashton and she thinks I’m some jealous boyfriend. What the actual fuck?

  I ran my hands down my face roughly. Lifting my eyes to the ceiling and letting out a deep breath, I questioned her for clarification one more time. “What are you talking about?”

  “The man, whatever his name is, asked me about Bianca once. He seemed interested. But she wasn’t here that day. It was…” She looked down and flipped through her planner. “It was a Friday. She left early that day. She said her boyfriend was in town to go to dinner with her parents.” She gave me a pointed look. “I’m presuming you are said boyfriend, correct?”

  Fuck it. If she believes that I’m a jealous prick who would come in here and try to ban a customer because he liked the way B looks, so be it. I wouldn’t do some shit like that. Now if I was here when it happened, that would be a different story.

  The phone on her desk started ringing. Muttering something under her breath when she saw the number, she glanced up at me. “If that’s all, I have to take this.”

  With a nod, I turned to walk out of the room and made a beeline for Bianca. She was rotating a statue on the other side of the gallery.

  “B,” I called out.

  She glanced over her shoulder as she finished rotating the piece. “What’s wrong? Did you tell her that you weren’t going to do the show?”

  “No.” I shook my head for emphasis. “I asked her about a picture I found of you and her.”

  She balked, making a face that under any other circumstance would’ve cracked me up. “Excuse me?”

  “It’s a long story, but I got another note and with it was a picture. So one day last week someone took a picture of you and Nina right outside those doors. I wanted to ask her first because she was looking right at the camera. Do you remember seeing Ashton or anyone who looked like Ashton last week? Thursday specifically.”

  “No.” She chewed the corner of her lip and started pacing. “If I saw Ashton, I would remember seeing him. But to be completely honest, I’m usually minding my own business when I’m walking anywhere. Oh my God.” Her body froze. “Do you think Ashton is really sending these notes? Why would he do this? Did she see him? Are you sure it was Ashton?” Her voice got louder with each question.

  “Well I didn’t ask her if his name was Ashton or show her a picture of him, but yeah, it’s him. It has to be him. She said it was a man so that rules out Meredith.”

  “Oh shit…” Her eyes widened and she closed the gap of space that was between us. “Does Nina know everything?”

  “No. I just told her that if she sees the guy again to watch her back and keep her guard up. She twisted my words and made it seem like I was just some jealous boyfriend.” I shrugged. “If that’s what she chooses to think, that’s fine with me. As long as you’re safe, I don’t give a damn about anything else.”

  Bianca closed her eyes and shook her head. “Nina already thinks I have unnecessary drama surrounding me.”

  Shit, I didn’t even think about that. But I didn’t have any options. It was either let her think I was jealous or tell her that some guy she went on a couple of dates with is a fucking psycho.

  I put my hands on her shoulders and massaged them. Sliding my hands to her neck, I cradled her head with my fingers. “It’s probably better if she thinks I’m the one with the issue than some guy you went on a couple of dates with months ago who has crossed state lines to win you back,” I pointed out with a smirk.

  She pursed her lips to keep from laughing out loud, but I felt it when her shoulders started to bounce. Seconds later, her laughter rang throughout the empty gallery.

  That laugh.

  “When you put it like that, I guess you’re right,” Bianca giggled. “Ugh, I can’t believe this is happening. I can’t believe it was him. He’s better than this.”

  The irrational jealousy that I felt when it came to Bianca flared up at her words. I ran my tongue over my teeth and then bit down on my tongue.

  “Hey,” she whispered, pressing her full lips against mine. She ran her hands up and down my chest. “What’s that look about?”

  “I don’t understand how you can still think he’s better than this when all signs point to him doing this.” I brought my forehead to hers. “You have a big heart.” I kissed her nose. “But now that I have enough information to catch him up, he’s going down.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know yet. But when I figure out my plan, I’ll let you know. And we can talk about everything when you get off. No secrets.”

  “No secrets,” she repeated with a smile.

  “Take a taxi home, okay?”

  She nodded. “Are you still going to the studio?”

  “Yeah, I get some of my best thinking done when I’m painting. But I’m going to set an alarm so I force myself to stop in enough time to get home at the same time as you.”

  We kissed one last time before I left Pho Gallery.

  “If Nina leaves for any reason, you lock the door. If you’re here by yourself, Pho’s closed. Period.”

  She let out a short, dry laugh. “Got it.”

  I looked at her seriously. “I mean it. You’re closed.”

  “This is my job, Ro. I can’t close it in the middle of the day because we think Ashton might have taken his crush a little too far. I can’t. I would lose my job for sure. And I’m not risking my job. I’m already on thin ice.”

  I didn’t want to argue with her. I just wanted her to be safe. But when she looked at me like that, I knew there was no changing her mind. “You’re stubborn.”

  “Aww I love you, too,” Bianca cooed, her voice feigning sweetness.

  “I love you, B. Be careful.”

  “I love you, too. See you at home tonight.”

  Adjusting the duffle bag over my body, I left out of Pho Gallery with the anxiety for her safety shrouding me. My nerves were getting the better of me and I found myself scanning the street for any signs of Ashton. It wasn’t until I arrived at the studio that I started to feel like I could relax.

  The smell of solvent and paint was faint, but it wafted in the air.

  The ventilation system in this place must be better than at Art House. Or I’m just not spending enough time in here. I need to crack open some paint.

  I stripped out of my clothes and put on some paint splattered jeans with no shirt. Turning on my iPod, I cranked the music up and let the music fill the room. The throbbing beat and the smell of paint helped me focus.

  With each bottle I opened, I had a clearer idea of what I needed to do for my current series. With each hour that passed, I worked my way through the finite details of each painting and had a clearer idea of what I needed to do about Ashton. As I finished up the top half of the third painting, my music shut off and my phone alarm blared.

  It’s been nine hours already?

  Stretching, I felt the effects of an all-day session. My stomach growled and my body hurt in a good way. Looking down at the paint covering my hands, arms and chest, I shook my head.

  How did I get paint on my chest? I wondered as I made my way into the bathroom.

  When I got out of the shower, the entire studio smelled like soap. I pulled on a pai
r of jeans and the dark green hoodie that Bianca said matched my eyes. Standing in front of the three canvases I was working on, I adjusted the fan so it would dry the smeared black specks that covered the top half of them. The blue-black accents that were drawn to perfection and then smeared and blended into almost unrecognizable forms gave me a rush. The urge to pick up the medium sized, angle tipped paint brush to start on the second phase of the project was there, but it wasn’t as powerful as my desire to be home with Bianca.

  I picked up my cell phone and thumbed through the notifications. I stopped in my tracks when I saw that I had seven missed calls and four text messages.

  Two missed calls from Elizabeth. One from Easy. Four from Bianca.

  Bianca Baker: Ashton just emailed me! He’s begging me to talk to him. What should I say?

  Bianca Baker: I know how you are when you’re working so I don’t expect you to get this anytime soon. But if by any chance you take a break to eat or pee or anything, please call me.

  Bianca Baker: He just sent a second email!

  Bianca Baker: Three emails in four hours, Ro! I have to do something.

  I let out a rush of air as panic swept through my body. I grabbed my leather jacket, zipping it up as I ran out of the studio door. Seeing a couple getting out of a taxi, I flagged it down before it had a chance to pull away.

  Scrolling through the phone to Bianca’s number, I hit the call button.

  “Ro,” Bianca answered breathily. “Please tell me you got my messages.”

  “I did. I was in the zone. I’m sorry I missed your calls. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, baby. I handled it.”

  What does that mean?

  I let out a breath into the phone. “You handled it? Bianca, what did you do?”

  “Well, I replied to his email and—”

  My mouth fell open. “You did what?”

  She hesitated before she began again, her voice lower than before. “He kept emailing me and I felt like the only way I was going to be able to make it stop was to respond. So I did.”

  “You didn’t say anything about us knowing what he was up to, did you?”

  “No, not at all. But I’m about to shut down my computer and leave work so can we talk about this at home?”

  Oh, that’s why she was sounding like that. Makes sense.

  “Don’t walk home,” I reminded her.

  She laughed, making my body temperature rise. “Yes sir!”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  “Don’t get used to it.”

  We ended the call and I stared out of the window as we approached Park Place.

  Why would Ashton all of a sudden send her a bunch of emails? And what did B say to him in response? Most people date and if it doesn’t work out, they move on. Most people don’t send threatening messages to try to get back with them. Most people have common fucking sense.

  My blood was starting to boil. Fortunately for me and the headrest in front of me that I wanted to punch, my phone rang.

  “Hello?” I snapped, not bothering to register the number that was calling.

  “Yo…Do you have a minute?”

  “Easy?” I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked at it. “What number is this?”

  “I’m at Parachutes Bar setting up my equipment for a gig. My phone died.”

  I gave the taxi driver fare and a tip before climbing out of the backseat. “Oh okay. What’s going on?”

  “I saw that punk ass Ashton yesterday and I almost beat his ass.”

  “What? When? What happened?” I sputtered. I couldn’t get the questions out fast enough.

  “I don’t have long to talk, but I’ll call you when I can with the full story.”

  “Well give me the quick version. What happened?”

  “I dropped by a restaurant near VCU for lunch and he was in there. We exchanged words. Long story short, he denied doing anything, but showing Bianca the truth about you. I threatened him and that was the end of it. But I need to set up. I just wanted you to know.”

  “Thanks man.” I ended the call and stuffed my phone in my pocket.

  “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, pacing in front of the building.

  ----------

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Fifteen minutes had flown by and Bianca still hadn’t arrived home yet. I called her phone three times and I tried not to panic.

  She could be in the bathroom. Nina could have asked her to run an errand. Nina could have asked to speak to her before she left. She could be stuck in traffic.

  I paced myself through fifteen different excuses for each minute I paced beside the doorman, Gibson.

  “It doesn’t take fifteen minutes to get from Pho Gallery,” I mumbled more to myself than to Gibson.

  Gibson didn’t respond to any of my other comments, but he waited until I crossed his right side again before he spoke. In his thick New York accent, he pointed out, “Sometimes it takes people a little longer to walk in the evenings. People don’t have the same gusto as they do in the mornings.”

  “She was going to take a taxi,” I replied flatly.

  “And traffic in New York is unpredictable. Where are you from?”

  “I just moved from Richmond, Virginia.”

  “Yeah, I have family in the Richmond area. You don’t know traffic like New York traffic. It’s very likely she’s stuck in traffic. Try not to worry.”

  You have no idea what’s going on, man, I thought as I nodded my appreciation for his words.

  “For all you know, she got here before you and is upstairs waiting for you.”

  I paused. I didn’t think about that.

  But if I’m up there, I might miss her—

  “Go check upstairs. I’ll keep an eye out for Ms. Baker out here.”

  “Thanks man. I appreciate it!”

  Taking off into a run, I slid into the elevator car before the door could close. I rode up in silence, not even speaking to the people who said goodbye to me when they left.

  But in my defense, I couldn’t open my mouth because my teeth were clenched so hard. The pit in my stomach twisted violently. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. And I was jumpy.

  Dear God, please let Bianca be okay.

  When the elevator let me off on our floor, I pulled out my key and opened the front door.

  The silence of the room was deafening.

  I swallowed around the lump in my throat.

  “B? B!” I called out even though I knew. My voice came out hoarse and borderline desperate. I tossed the box with the photographs inside on the coffee table.

  Should I go back downstairs or should I wait for her here? Or better yet, should I go looking for her? I know she was at Pho. If Nina’s still there, maybe she knows something.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and as if on cue, the phone vibrated in my hand. The disappointment I felt was swift and immediate when I didn’t see Bianca’s name come across my phone as an incoming call or a text message.

  Sighing, I clicked on the email icon and the unread email at the top was from biancabakeratphogallery@mail.com.

  I froze momentarily. With an unsteady hand, I double tapped the unread message.

  To my dismay, I cannot recommend Bianca Baker for employment as a curator. Ms. Baker has worked under my supervision for seven months and I finally had to let her go on Thursday. Although her pedigree is impressive, she lacks the talent and creativity that it takes to do the job. She is neither resourceful nor solution-oriented as her only acquisition to the gallery was an introduction to an “artist” by the name of Roman Harper. Due to their highly inappropriate relationship, Ms. Baker was removed from one of my annual events. Due to her continued lack of professionalism, I had to relinquish her from my staff. It pains me to say these things about her as she is a decent human being. But I would not want you to be suckered in by charm as I was…to be deeply disappointed as I was. Sincerely, Nina Low.

  My heart hurt as I read the li
es in the email once more. When I was about to close out of the email, I noticed the mistake.

  They forgot to put the ‘e’ in Lowe. This isn’t something Nina wrote. This is something Ashton wrote. This is the big Thursday plan. This has to be stopped. This can’t go out. Maybe I can respond and—

  Before I could finish my thought, the phone vibrated again. This time, Bianca’s beautiful face popped up, along with her number.

  “B!” I answered, relief filling me. “I was so worried. Where are you?”

  The other end of the line was silent.

  “Bianca?”

  There was no response. The pause was long, but the breathing was steady.

  Something is wrong.

  In my gut, I knew it wasn’t her. I could hear whoever it was on the other end of the line breathing clearly. It didn’t seem as though they were trying to pretend to not be there. They just didn’t speak.

  “Hello?” I repeated, the panic slipping into my voice.

  After a painful stretch of silence, I thought about hanging up until I heard, “Bianca’s not here.”

  Those three words sucked the life out of me. My breathing was cut short, my heart stopped beating, and my feet stopped moving all at once. In the warmth of the apartment, a cold sweat populated over my forehead.

  “Who is this?” I croaked out, gripping the phone so hard I was sure it would shatter into a million plastic and glass pieces. “Where’s Bianca?”

  “You don’t get to have it all, Roman. The girl, the money, the job. All you do is take, take, take. So now, I’m taking from you. Going after your money and your job would have been satisfying. But going after your girl is the only way to take everything from you. I’m going to destroy her in order to destroy you.”

  My entire body seemed to get hot at once, as if my blood was actually boiling. I inhaled and exhaled noisily until I could calm myself down enough to respond. “Don’t do this to her. She didn’t do anything to deserve this.”

  “Oh I’m not doing this to her. You are. Once her career tanks and she finds out you could’ve prevented it, she’ll wise up and leave you, too. And that loss will haunt you for the rest of your life.” He made a noise that sounded like a rough grunt. “I don’t want to hurt her, but I will.”