“Wow,” Shy repeated. “I can’t even imagine that.” They stood in silent awe, taking in the verdant vista before them. Wyatt always stopped to pay his respects to the French king whenever he came to the museum, as well as take in the scenic view afforded by the lookout. Too bad they didn’t have time to do much more than that today. Reluctantly, he turned Shy away from the park and toward the museum, across Fine Arts Drive, up the steps, and inside. Not stopping to ask for directions, he veered left into a large gallery, then left again into a smaller room. Ignoring the paintings and sculpture they passed, he headed straight into the next gallery, number 218, which was their destination. There was the painting he’d wanted to share with Shy. Monet’s Water Lilies.
The large painting hung in solitary splendor on one wall. The two young men stood in respectful silence before it, taking in the sheer beauty of Monet’s masterpiece. Over six feet in length, the delicate blossoms bloomed in watery splendor, a veritable sea of blues and greens.
“That’s beautiful,” Shy murmured. He stepped closer and placed his hand inside Wyatt’s. Wyatt gently closed his hand around Shy’s, his heart skipping a beat at his action, as well as his proximity. If they had more time, he would have proposed they sit on the low bench situated just behind them, one of many scattered about the museum. Look at the painting and simply be together. But unfortunately they had somewhere else to be.
“There’s about two hundred fifty of these water lily paintings by Monet, all around the world,” Wyatt said. “I just love Monet. All the Impressionists, actually. They did such beautiful work.”
“You do beautiful work,” Shy said, squeezing Wyatt’s hand.
“Thank you,” Wyatt replied, warmed by Shy’s touch.
“Someday,” Shy said, turning toward Wyatt with a grin, “when your paintings are hanging here, I’ll be able to tell people I knew you when. Assuming you aren’t too famous to talk to me then.”
“I’ll never be that famous,” Wyatt said quickly.
They swayed toward one another, as if mesmerized, and Wyatt thought he saw Shy’s lips part expectantly. And he wanted to kiss him, yes he did. But the buzzing of his cell phone broke the moment. Incoming text, three guesses who from. Wyatt glanced at the screen. Yep, Lukas.
“Guess we better get going,” he said reluctantly. “Lukas is already there. But I’ll bring you back here another time, I promise. And we’ll spend as long as we want, just looking around. And we’ll do lunch too. Someplace special. Maybe Blueberry Hill.”
“That sounds good. I’d like that.” Shy’s warm smile was reward enough for Wyatt.
Looking into Shy’s beautiful sky-blue eyes, Wyatt came to a sudden realization. He was in love with Shylor. Shy had become the world to him, and he’d do anything to keep him safe, no matter what. No matter who he had to tell to fuck off. He didn’t care what Lukas said. Lukas didn’t know everything, and he was wrong about the two of them.
They sky was just starting to cloud up when they returned to the car. He hoped it wouldn’t rain until after they got back home. Good thing this was not an outdoor event.
Wyatt opened Shy’s door for him again, but before Shy got in, he kissed Wyatt softly on the lips. “Thank you so much,” he said. “For everything.” He slid inside without waiting for a response. As Wyatt walked around the car, his smile surely stretched from ear to ear.
“We’re not late, are we?” Shy asked as they drove the short distance to Lindell Boulevard.
“Nah, we’re good. Most people show up fashionably late, as they like to put it.” He chuckled. “Just an excuse for not being on time, if you ask me.” Not that he had room to talk. Punctuality was not his strong suit.
Wyatt checked the address on his phone once more. Just a few blocks down. Well, at least they wouldn’t look out of place in this neighborhood in Masterson’s elegant ride.
Spotting empty curb space near their destination, Wyatt pulled over and parked. The street was tree-lined, and the elegant homes were a decent distance apart, not on top of each other as they tended to be farther into the city.
“It’s just up there.” He pointed. “We can walk the rest of the way.”
The house they were looking for was even fancier than Wyatt had expected. A circular drive ran behind a large stone fountain adorned by water nymphs. Balustraded steps led to the entrance of the three-storied pale brick house. He wasn’t sure he’d ever want a house this size to call his own. Of course, that was easy to say when he couldn’t afford to rent even a small apartment.
The front door was opened by a tall middle-aged woman in a maid’s uniform. She welcomed them with a warm smile, told them where the buffet was located, and where they would find the art that was being displayed, as well as the other guests, then wished them a good afternoon. They thanked her and entered the house.
Wyatt had to admit this was one of the nicer homes he’d been to for these affairs. Of course, he didn’t attend them all, much to Lukas’s chagrin. But he was coming to realize he needed to make an effort for the sake of his career. Talent alone wouldn’t carry the day. He had to learn to schmooze if he wanted to get ahead. Having Shy with him today made the idea far more palatable than it had been before.
“You want to get something to eat? Check out the buffet and see what they have?” Wyatt asked.
“I’m not really hungry, are you?” Shy replied.
Wyatt shook his head.
“Maybe later?” Shy suggested. “I’d really like to take a look at your art first. That is, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind at all. I just hope you won’t be disappointed.”
In response, Shy looped his arm through Wyatt’s and said softly, “I could never be disappointed in you.” Wyatt warmed at the compliment.
A number of other people had arrived before them. A steady flow of guests moved from one room to another. Wyatt searched for any sign of Lukas, but he was nowhere in evidence. He did spot the friend who had Ubered the late-night delivery for him. Or rather Martin spotted him first, approaching with a big grin.
“How’s it going?” Martin greeted him.
“Good, I guess. Just got here,” Wyatt replied. “I was looking for Lukas. You seen him?”
“Yeah, he’s in that direction.” Martin jerked his chin down the hall. “I delivered your painting, by the way. I think he was a little less than thrilled, considering the lateness of the hour and all.”
“I couldn’t help it,” Wyatt mumbled.
“I know. I think he understands, being an artist himself. You gotta go with it when that lightning strikes, right?” Martin laughed. Wyatt noticed him cast curious glances at Shy before Wyatt remembered his manners.
“Martin, this is Shylor. Shy, this is Martin. Fellow art student and Uber driver.”
“Nice to meet you,” Shy said.
“You as well,” Martin replied. “You’ll have to point out which painting I delivered for you, dude. I’m just curious to see what was so important it had to get there in the middle of the night.”
“I will,” Wyatt said. “Give us a chance to look around first.” And maybe a chance to receive the rough side of Lukas’s tongue, depending on what sort of mood his mentor was in. “Thanks again for your help. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. What are bros for?” He held out one hand for a fist bump, which was reciprocated. “Catch up with you later, going to check out the food.” He nodded at Shy before heading in the other direction. Wyatt and Shy continued down the hall toward the main event.
“What painting was he talking about?” Shy asked.
“The one I was working on yesterday.”
“But how… I mean… so fast? Why?”
“I was just… I wanted to….” Wyatt tripped all over his words as he attempted to explain the compulsion that had driven him to complete the painting in the middle of the night, as Shy slept.
“You inspired me,” he simply said at last. “I couldn’t think of anything but finishing. I hope you don
’t mind that I sent it to Lukas for today. I mean, if you do, we’ll take it down, no questions asked. I should have asked you first, I’m sorry.”
Now it was Shy’s turn to be flummoxed. “Um… I mean…. No, it’s all right. I trust you. I just thought oils took a while.”
They paused in the hall. Wyatt gently stroked Shy’s cheek. “Thank you,” he said. “Actually, they do. I used watercolors for this one. I want to do one in oil, later.”
“Okay,” Shy said. “Then I guess I need to see this, don’t I?”
“Absolutely.”
Chapter Fifteen
THE ROOM where they ended up was a good-sized interior room without windows, the sole illumination coming from recessed lighting in the ceiling. A number of people milled about. Clustered in small groups, they peered attentively at the artwork on the walls, as well as the sculptures set on a number of small tables scattered around the room, chatting amongst themselves. Shy drew closer to Wyatt, keeping a tight hold on his hand. He kept telling himself he’d be fine as long as he was with Wyatt. But he was seldom around this many people at one time, and their number and proximity was making him nervous.
“Are you okay?” Wyatt asked in a voice laced with concern. Just having him ask the question made Shy feel better. It felt good to have someone actually care how he felt.
“I’m fine,” he assured him. As if to reinforce that thought, he squeezed Wyatt’s hand. The smile he received in return was breathtaking. Shy’s heart felt as though it was expanding inside his chest. Everyone around them receded into the background, and there was only Wyatt and him….
“Here he is.” A familiar voice broke the illusion, and the moment passed. Shy looked up to find Lukas standing there, as well as some woman he didn’t recognize. She was tall and thin, with short dark hair. One side of her head was shaved, and the simple black dress she wore did nothing to hide a number of tattoos spread over her arms and neck.
“Nicole, I’d like you to meet Wyatt Findley, the artist I was just telling you about.” He glanced at Shy, as if seeing him for the first time, then quickly added, “And this is his friend, Shylor Lind. Gentlemen, this is Nicole Morgan. She’s on the board at the Art Museum, as well as being a fellow art lover, and she’s been kind enough to stop by and take a look at some of my students’ work.”
Nicole offered her hand, first to Wyatt, then to Shy. “Nice to meet you,” she said. “Lukas has really been talking you up for some time, Wyatt. When he told me you’d be here today, I had to come see what the hoopla was about. Lukas doesn’t brag about just anybody.”
“I love that tattoo on your wrist,” Shy blurted out without thinking. Shit, he shouldn’t have spoken. That’s the kind of thing Randy would punish him for.
Why did he have to think of him now? When everything was going so well without him? He braced himself for some sort of fallout.
Nicole didn’t seem offended at his question. She turned her hand over so he could get a better view of the unusual spiral heart inked there. “Thank you,” she said. “It’s a copy of one Marilyn Manson designed. In case you can’t tell, I’m a huge fan.” An exact duplicate of the tattoo graced her other wrist.
Shy wasn’t familiar with Manson, but if this was some of her art, she must be cool.
“Very nice,” Wyatt said. “For a musician, he does some very interesting artwork. I’ve seen some of his stuff on the internet. A little too pricey for my pocketbook, though.”
“I know the feeling,” Nicole sympathized.
Shy was confused, but he didn’t say anything. Wasn’t Marilyn a woman’s name? He’d have to ask Wyatt about that later.
“I’ve been looking at some of your work, Wyatt, and I have to agree with Lukas that you’re a very talented artist. And I’m seen some very talented artists in my time.”
“Thank you,” Wyatt said. “I appreciate that. Lukas is a good mentor.”
“I totally agree with you, Nicole,” Lukas interjected. “This young man is going to go far, I think. Just needs a little help to get there.”
Nicole looked thoughtfully back and forth between Wyatt and Shy. A smile bloomed on her lips. “You have a very lovely boyfriend, Wyatt. I can see where you draw your inspiration from.”
Shy warmed at her words. Even more so when Wyatt didn’t correct her assumption. Even if it wasn’t true, the sentiment sounded nice, and fed into his inner fantasies.
“Yes I do,” Wyatt said, sliding his arm around Shy’s waist. Shy automatically drew closer, without hesitation. This felt too natural not to.
Did Wyatt really mean what he said, or was this a show he was putting on for a potential patron? He decided not to analyze it.
“I hate to do this, but I have another appointment this afternoon. But it was very nice to meet both of you.” Nicole turned to Lukas. “Sorry I have to run already. Walk me to the door?”
“Of course,” Lukas responded. He cast a quick glance toward Wyatt and Shy, but if he had any comment to make, he kept it to himself. They murmured their goodbyes to Nicole before she and Lukas left the room.
Wyatt lifted Shy’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly. “I would like nothing more than to be your boyfriend, Shy. What do you think? Can we do that?”
Shy’s heart felt as though it might beat out of his chest. If this is a dream, please let it never end.
He took a deep breath but, not trusting his voice, simply nodded. Wyatt kissed his hand again, before letting their twined grip fall back into place. “Let’s find that painting and take a look at it,” he said, drawing Shy carefully through the other guests in the direction Lukas and Nicole had come from.
Shy followed Wyatt blindly. He had eyes for no one and nothing but Wyatt at that moment. He didn’t care about the other artists or their work. He felt as though his whole world revolved around Wyatt. He had never felt so happy before, or so loved. He had never believed anyone could truly love him. His own mother had sold him without a second thought to a man old enough to be his father. He couldn’t even pretend she didn’t know what was going to happen. She’d made that clear enough with her parting words. He was to obey Randy and do everything he said to do.
As for Randy, he didn’t love anyone but himself. If nothing else, Shy had learned that about the man over the past fifteen years. Everything he did was for his own pleasure, his own purpose. Shy was just another belonging to him, bought and paid for. His own personal slave, to be used and abused.
But Wyatt…. Wyatt saw Shy as a person. He asked for nothing, certainly demanded nothing. He didn’t want to use him sexually—he saw them as equals. He looked out for him, made him feel safe. Shy wanted to stay with Wyatt for as long as he could. Was it possible… did they have a future together? He hoped so with his whole heart.
Lost in thought, he was surprised when they stopped suddenly. Oh yeah, the painting. It hung near a corner of the room, with some of Wyatt’s other art. A few people were oohing and aahing over it. They waited until the others had moved on before stepping closer.
Shy was immediately overwhelmed with emotion as he stared at Wyatt’s flattering depiction of himself. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Certainly not to look as good as Wyatt had made him. The colors in the background were muted, as though the room was in shadow, the foreground highlighting Shy as he read.
“Wow,” he said. Anything else seemed inadequate, although that single word was far from eloquent. He looked up at Wyatt. Why did he look so anxious?
“Do you really like it?”
Shy threw his arms around Wyatt and hugged him. “I love it,” he said. “I love you.”
It took a moment for Shy to realize the words that had slipped out of his mouth. Eyes wide, he tried to draw back, thinking maybe he needed to run, but Wyatt gently held him in place. Shy risked a look at Wyatt’s face. Wyatt looked astounded. Shy couldn’t tell if it was happiness or horror he was witnessing. And he was afraid to find out.
The next moment, his fears were allayed when Wyatt kissed hi
m. Shy melted into the kiss, their arms naturally wrapping about each other. Wyatt’s lips were warm and soft… and dare he think it, loving? By the time they came up for air, Shy felt light-headed, but good.
“I love you too,” Wyatt whispered.
Shy felt as though he might cry. So many emotions swirling through him. Feelings he’d never experienced before. Suddenly, he didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be alone with Wyatt. Away from everyone in a world of their own.
“Let’s get out of here,” Wyatt said, as though he’d read Shy’s mind. “What do you say?”
Before Shy had a chance to respond, they were interrupted by a figure hurrying toward them—Lukas had returned. He tried not to frown, even though he knew Lukas would undoubtedly want Wyatt to stay longer, talk to more people. He probably would tell them they couldn’t leave yet. But looking at Lukas, he saw something in the man’s demeanor that scared him.
“Wyatt, you have to get him out of here. Right now.”
Wyatt looked as confused as Shy felt. Surely Lukas wasn’t mad that they kissed, assuming he’d seen that? Or was he? His next words dispelled that theory.
“Randy’s here, no time to explain, just go! Now!”
Wyatt took Shy’s hand and turned him toward the door. Shy was too much in shock to argue. How had this even happened?
“Why am I not surprised to find you here? With him?”
Too late. Shy knew that voice too well to pretend otherwise. The fact that he wasn’t yelling, that he seemed to be calm and controlled, made it all the more likely Randy Grant was seething inside. Shy cast an apprehensive glance at Randy, too frightened to speak.
Randy’s face was a cold mask as he glanced between Shy and Wyatt, who’d wound his arms protectively around Shy.
If not for Wyatt’s arms bracing him, Shy would have surely fallen.
No Way Out Page 17