by Leah Holt
In the end I didn't care about what trials and tribulations those people went through. My life had been far from perfect, the world wasn't handed to me on a silver platter.
And if I was to give in to every tear that rolled over a cheek, every painful experience that spilled from someone's lips...
I'd end up with nothing.
Business was cut-throat, it was dirty, I wasn't there for hand outs. I expected to get everything I put in back and then some. This wasn't a fucking charity, it was my money.
My grandmother granted me a second chance, a do over to a new beginning. I didn't view that lightly, but I made what I had. I turned my life into what it is.
No one else.
I'm not about to just give my wealth away.
Those who deserve it, get their second chance.
But that was for me decide. That's how this worked, by my choice.
Not the tears, not the stories of homage.
Chapter Eleven
Willow
Waking up, the normal thump of my heart was enhanced by a thousand. My alarm clock was internal, eyes opening before the sun even had the chance to hit the horizon.
Today is the day. Holy shit...
The air felt thick and stale, my body jittery with a tremble I couldn't stop. To say my nerves were on edge, was an understatement.
I could barely breath, barely think. The ground was up, the sky was down. My chest was in a permanent freeze, muscles sticking to the bone. Nothing wanted to work, not one piece of my body seemed to function the way it should.
Today was the culmination of all my hard work, everything I'd wanted.
And it was going to be placed in the hands of another. Their choice to give for my benefit, their decision to support my dreams.
My dreams.
Not theirs, not the dreams of someone they loved... Mine.
A nameless person they would meet for the first time, a person they had no connection to, no debt to.
The thought made me sick to my stomach. I was drowning in an excited twitch of boiling butterflies. I couldn't stop them, I couldn't tame the swarm.
I want to throw up.
Today wasn't just the moment of hopeful generosity from another, it was more than that.
This was the day of realization, learning if my eyes and hand are worth everything I thought they were. It was going to define my ability, confirm that all the years of practice and love for painting weren't wasted minutes of my past.
This was my day of reckoning.
I had done nothing but dream about this day. In my fantasy, I would walk in, the investor's eyes would be large and engulfed in a painting they couldn't look away from. Their jaw is hanging open, fingers gliding across the edge of the frame in awe.
And then they'd crack open their checkbook, asking me how much I needed, and who to write the check to.
But I knew that was just a dream, a childish wish. No one does that. Not one person would just open their bank account without set terms, a contract, deadlines.
This wasn't a charity, I wasn't asking for a grant, or scamming to take their money and run. I was looking for an investor. That meant I was promising to pay them back, with interest.
I was calling on someone to come aid me in what I'm supposed to know is a sure thing. Confidence is what would sell my work, confidence is what was going to open the doors to my gallery.
Confidence... I should probably find some first.
The one thing I'd always lacked was the one thing I needed to lean on to make this happen.
How do I grasp something I've never felt?
All my life people had praised my paintings, told me they were amazing, incredible. They said I had a gift, and I would laugh.
Always taking those compliments with a grain of salt. I needed to succeed, I needed people I didn't know to want to buy my work.
I knew that on the day someone was willing to pay for one of my pictures, then that was the day I had made it as an artist.
And today, today was the beginning. This was where it was all supposed to start. My chance to prove to myself that I could be somebody, that I was more than just a small town country girl.
My life needed meaning, purpose... My life needed confirmation.
Running my nails through my hair, I pushed myself up on the bed. I still had three hours before the meeting, and there was no way I was going to be able to fall back asleep.
I can't believe it's happening. I really hope I don't make a fool of myself.
Public speaking, I was awful at it. In school when I had to do presentations I would speak so fast that I would finish a mandatory ten minute speech in two minutes flat.
And that was me trying to take my time. I sucked at it, and all I could hope for today was a mild interpretation of my teenage self. It had been years since I spoke in front of anyone.
Yes, this meeting was only going to involve two people. The investor and Dana.
But that was enough. I didn't know the investor at all, and I had only met Dana a handful of times. To me, they were both strangers.
That was enough to send my stomach into my throat.
Time was a snail, the clock ticking as if it was running on a low battery. I was ready to get this over with, take my shot at the world of art, and wait with fingers crossed.
***
Dana had set up an area for me in her office building. Arriving an hour early, I stumbled up the three flights of stairs with my fifteen paintings crammed under my arms.
The pictures slid over each other, colliding in metal pings as they shifted around. The heels on my feet rocked and swayed under my ankles as I crept up the steps, my dress inching closer and closer to my hip with every lift of my leg.
And since my hands were full, I couldn't adjust the hem. It was going to have to wait until I reached the top, hopefully no one would end up underneath me. My ass had become prime real estate for any eyes that might happen a flight below.
I Should have worn nylons. Why don't I think of these things till it's too late?
This wasn't the first time I bared the goods on accident. A year ago I was riding the train back home, a simple trip that should have ended there. But that's not how shit goes for me.
I was sitting in the back, just watching the buildings as they streamed by, minding my own business. An old woman hobbled down the aisle, making her way to the bathroom. Innocent, right?
No. My seat was directly in front of the bathroom door, and the dress I had on was way longer than it should have been.
The woman's cane gripped the edge of my skirt, pulling it into the bathroom. I tried to get her attention, but she was either hard of hearing, or completely oblivious to the world around her.
Long story short, after every attempt to get my dress unhooked, it tore up the side, falling away like wet paper. And I was left in my underwear, white as a ghost, and traumatized from all the gut wrenching laughter.
Needless to say, I won't ride in a train anymore.
Each snap of my heel against the hard granite tile crashed into my skull. My heart was still stuck in overdrive, beating at speeds that were probably dangerous to my health.
I need a spa day.
Reaching the top, I let out a heavy breath. Thank God, I made it.
Scurrying to the conference room, I felt relieved to see the door was open. I wasn't going to have to juggle these frames and try to turn a handle.
That would have ended in a disaster, and tears. The last thing I needed was to destroy everything I brought.
Stepping inside, my eyes grew in amazement. The room was a lot bigger than I expected.
Maybe I should've brought more pictures.
A long table with twelve chairs was set in the center of the room, a huge set of glass windows ran the length from floor to ceiling, overlooking the city below.
The room made me feel small and more aware of how nervous I actually was. It was more than I needed, but definitely gave the impression I was going for.
/> That I was important, that I was worth the risk.
That this investor wasn't going to want to pass on me, because I am somebody.
“Ah, you made it. How are you doing? Are you excited?” Dana asked. Her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, a huge smile gleaming from ear to ear.
“Uh, yeah. I'm nervous, but excited. Thank you again for this, I really appreciate your help, Dana.” Setting the frames down on the rich mahogany tabletop, I wiped light beads of sweat from my forehead.
“Honey, please, there is no need to thank me. Your work is amazing, if Theodore doesn't think so, then he's insane.” Waving a hand in the air, Dana rolled her eyes as she giggled. “Oh and I'm going to warn you now, he's a bit of a character. So please don't take offense, he can be blunt at times, but he always means well. I promise.”
Gritting my teeth, I tried to force a smile. “That doesn't really help my nerves.”
“Trust me, he's going to love your stuff. Here, let me help you set up.” Unfolding the easels she brought, Dana started placing my art out on display.
My stomach was working overtime, turning and twisting around itself. I couldn't believe I was actually doing this.
I had been trying to talk myself down, calm the nerves so they didn't explode all over the place and ruin my chances.
“I'm so nervous, I can't believe this is happening.”
“Believe it, Willow. This is your day, and from what Beth told me...” A giddy smirk lifted to one side, her eyes bright and full of energy. “You deserve this.”
What did Beth tell her? How much of my past did she unleash?
I wouldn't be surprised if Beth felt the need to share my awkward ways, the uncomfortable itch I had as a kid for all things art-related.
I was a nerd.
The sweat on my palms seemed to keep thickening, wiping my hands on my thighs, I took in a deep breath.
Relax, Lo. You can do this.
“I hope so,” I said, releasing the air from my lungs with a loud whoosh. “It's now or never.”
“This all looks great, it really does.” Stepping back, Dana held her hand under her chin, eyeing the pictures dotted in front of the glass windows. “This is a great spot for these, your eye is drawn right to them when you walk in.”
A loud cough broke the air, both of us jumping in surprise.
Whipping around, a man dressed in the darkest black suit I'd ever seen was standing in the doorway. Every piece of his suit was the same solid color, from the jacket to the under shirt to his shoes. Each layer was crisp and wrapping the hardened muscles beneath.
I was awestruck, from how handsome and high-class he looked, to how his physique was still visible and carved out even in the black cloak.
His eyes were hidden behind shades that matched his suit. A thick beard rode across his jaw, and his hair was tousled just enough to give him an edge, but still fixed in a clean cut.
Have I met him before?
There was an ere of familiarity, but I couldn't place it.
Stepping inside, a smug grin filled his face. Lifting his hand to the shades, he peeled them from his face. “I knew we'd meet again.”
And my heart stopped. I physically felt the muscle pause, holding any rhythm or bounce.
My chest tightened, lungs struggling to inhale, mind reeling to gain control. Then I uttered a single word. “You?”
I couldn't think straight, there was no way this could be right.
Kash.
There he was, standing in front of me, dressed like a ceo from a million dollar business.
No, there's no way. It's not possible.
Tugging on his cuff, Kash tucked his shades into the breast pocket. “In the flesh, Princess.”
“Have you two met?” Dana asked, her confusion matching my jaw as it crashed into my neckline.
Kash's smile grew ten sizes, his bright white teeth glaring at me with eyes of their own. “We met briefly. How's your thigh?”
I couldn't speak, there were no words forming in my mind. I was dumbfounded and surprised, while my heart raced inside my chest ready to burst.
My mouth tried to move, but only weird grunting wind sounds emerged.
No fucking way. This has to be a joke.
Did Beth do this?
“What's wrong? You look surprised.” Holding his arms out, he spun in a slow circle. “I clean up nice, huh?”
“Is this a joke? Dana, this can't be the investor. This guy owns a tattoo studio, this can't be right.” The whites of my eyes expanded, lids unable to blink, unable to close even if I tried.
“I assure you, Willow, I am the investor.” Stepping closer, his cologne wafted through the air, stealing my senses. “I'm a man of many talents. And there are so many more I'd like to show you.” Winking, his brow arched high.
“No, no, no.” Throwing my hand up, I snapped my head towards Dana. “You said the investor's name was Theodore, his name is Kash.” Pointing, I couldn't hide my anger and disbelief. My brows furrowed, nostrils flaring, head ready to launch fire from deep inside.
What kind of sick joke was this?
That man couldn't be the one who was holding my dream in his hands. He did tattoos, he had his own studio. How could he also have the means to fund other people?
Was he a damn trust fund baby? Given the world when he came of age, given the world as a kid and so comfortable with getting anything he wanted?
“Willow, this is the investor.” Dana stared at me, her fingers twining around each other like she just revealed a long hidden secret.
Bowing his head, Kash said, “Theodore Kash Slade, at your service.” One arm fell across his torso, the other draping his back.
All my muscles froze, cold sweat trickling down my spine. “You're not joking.”
“No joke, Princess.” His lips reached his ears, eyes glowing in a sick satisfaction. “So tell me, how's that tattoo treating you? Has it been nice to you, have others been nice to you?”
My heart stopped. The cold sweat turned to boiling water, singeing my skin as it made its way over my neck and down my back.
Oh my God.
The past few days had started to filter through my head. The way people were acting towards me, the things people had given me.
All the special treatment, the free pizza, the free books, the way people walked around me...
The men who backed off suddenly and begged me not to tell.
Did they not want me to tell him?
Who was this man?
“That was you?” The words spilled from my lips, tongue lashing them off like hot coal. Rubbing my forehead, I stumbled backwards, falling into the table. Holding the edge, I tried desperately to stop the room from spinning.
“Good, I'm glad it's done its job. Especially because I didn't get the chance to finish mine.” A wicked laugh broke free, his head falling back as a deep chuckle filled room. “Well, look at this.” Walking to the front of the room, he browsed over my art. “I had no idea you were so talented. I mean, I thought you had talent with your hands, but I thought it was probably talent below the belt, similar to mine.” Lifting his finger to his nose, he drew in a large breath. “I didn't expect this.”
My body began to tremble, heart speeding up like I had just ran a three mile race.
“Theodore, please,” Dana said, holding her hand up. “Willow, are you alright?”
“This was supposed to be my day.” The words were more of a whisper, barely finding sound.
All the life I had streaming through my veins, all the nerves and excitement that had been coating my entire body down to the bones, it all washed away.
I was cold, drained, pummeled into an emotionless bag of mush.
“This is still your day, Sweetheart. These are really good.” His massive hands caressed the frames, eyes gliding over each image. “Maybe you can come paint something special for me in private. I'd like that. And I'll make sure we get to finish what we started.”
“Really? Is this funny to you
?” Cocking my head, I glared at him through crinkled lids.
“No, Princess, it's not funny. I'm serious, you can come paint nude if you'd like. I mean you did seem really uncomfortable the other day in clothes, so naked would be fine.”
Veering my stare, I wanted my words to cut through the air and hit him. “Screw you.”
How dare he make a mockery of me.
Dana's back went straight, her arm flying up to halt him from saying another word. “Theodore, that's enough!” Stepping to me, her hand rested on my shoulder. “Willow, let me talk to him in private. Give me five minutes.”
My body was charging, his subtle reminders of what we did raided my insides and took me hostage. My chest was tight with attraction, my thighs burning with need.
The suit dressed his body just as amazing as a Roman statue in a loin cloth. His muscles were piercing, still firm and bulging. And under it all, his eyes stayed static, drawing lines over my body.
His leaf-green eyes popped, vivid and luminous. I don't remember them being so bright, glinting in a momentary flash.
And my lungs stopped, his gaze slashing the reflex my body should have had to keep my chest rising. I was stunned, mesmerized, unable to break the hold he had on me.
But today wasn't supposed to go like this. This was serious, at least I thought it was serious.
Obviously he didn't.
This was supposed to be the day that would change my life, the day I had worked so hard for. The pictures I had of myself in that shop started to fade, they began to fizzle turning to rain drops and melting away.
Without this, the gallery couldn't manifest into reality.
Without this, I'd have a dusty old store with no means to bring it back to life.
I could feel my eyes filling, tears cresting my lids, ready to fall. I didn't want to cry, didn't want to let him see me so vulnerable to his ways.
With one large breath, I looked over at Dana. “I'm sorry you wasted your time, Dana.” Forcing my foot forward, I walked out the door, and didn't look back.
Leaving my work behind, everything I dreamed for myself, it had all been for nothing.
He thought it was a joke, he thought I was a joke.
How could I have been so stupid?
Why did I let myself think that I could go anywhere with painting?