No, an apology would not be enough. He had stepped on her heart, trampled all over her pride, and shattered her dreams. It would take more than a few contrite words to amend those things. Whatever he did, had to be big. It had to be momentous enough that she’d think twice about slamming the door in his face.
He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the business card, staring at the ten numbers scratched on the back. Oh, how he wanted to call her.
But, no. It was too soon.
He huffed another long breath. First thing’s first.
He retrieved his cell from his jeans, stabbing two buttons. He closed his eyes and put the phone to his ear, waiting for someone to pick up.
“Hey, Gray!” Richard’s voice broke through. “What’s up?”
Grayson sat still for a moment, not sure what to say.
“You there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” Grayson sat up. “Am I interrupting anything?” He asked, stalling.
“No, not at all. I’m just driving back to the office.”
Grayson remembered Richard’s lunch date with his wife and checked the time on the alarm clock next to his bed. “You’re just now heading back from lunch with Joyce?”
A typical I-got-laid-on-my-lunch-hour laugh came through. “So, what’s it to you?”
“You mean you left your wife to go back to the office? It’s Sunday.”
“Yeah, well…duty calls, my friend.”
That was Richard. Always working.
“So, what’s up? You’re fishing…spit it out.”
Grayson gave a tight laugh and scratched his head. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Oh, shit. What now?”
“Just hear me out. It might benefit you.”
“I’m listening,” Richard said skeptically.
“I was down on Charles Street today, looking for some things for the studio…”
“Yeah.”
“And I found an artist who might be right up your alley for the big exhibition you got coming up.”
“Gray,” Richard interrupted. “I’m not looking to showcase amateurs or promote Van Gogh wannabe’s.”
“She’s not an amateur,” Grayson defended.
Richard sighed and cursed under his breath. “She? Surely you didn’t offer my services to a woman you just banged.”
Grayson cringed, hearing the accusation that came from his friend’s mouth, and it pained him to know it wasn’t a far stretch from the truth. But, it didn’t go down that way and he wasn’t so keen on opening that can of worms. “Nah, nothing like that,” he skirted. “I just paid her shop a visit today and when I saw what she had to showcase, I thought you’d be interested. I never said anything to her about you or R. Fitzgerald Gallery.”
“So, what’s the favor then?”
Grayson took a deep breath. “I was hoping you’d have time tomorrow to swing by and see what she’s done. Just take a look.”
“And that’s it?” Richard asked, expecting more.
“Yeah.”
“Gray…” Richard coaxed. “What else is there?”
“Well, if by some chance you don’t think her work would fit in your upcoming exhibition, I was...at least…wanting you to buy a few paintings for the studio while you’re there.”
Grayson heard the pause on the other end of the line. A long pause. But he waited. With fingers crossed, he waited.
“Why didn’t you just purchase them while you were there?”
Grayson’s mouth opened and then shut again. He wasn’t prepared for that question. “Um…I thought you’d want to see them first. Make sure they were what you had in mind for the studio. We are equal partners in this venture, right?”
“Sure. I can do that.”
Grayson let out a sigh. Perfect.
“Which paintings did you have your eyes on?”
“Any of them are fine. I’m not picky. But…” Grayson thought of the canvas hanging behind the register; the warm mahogany color of the woman’s hair, the sensual curves of the woman’s bare body, the implication of succulent nipples hidden behind a slender arm. He had to have that painting. If he was going to walk out of this relationship without his heart, he at least wanted to come away with something.
“You’re not picky but what, Gray?”
“There’s a painting right behind the register of her shop. I want that one for myself. But don’t tell her it’s for me. In fact, don’t even bring up my name.”
“Here it comes,” Richard groaned.
“What?”
“The reason you don’t want your name mentioned. Was she some chick you sixty-nined and didn’t wine-and-dine first?”
“Richard, please.”
“Oh, don’t act like that’s never happened before. Save your bullshit for someone who doesn’t know you as well as I do.”
Grayson was getting impatient, but he didn’t want to mess this up. He could accept the possibility of Chloe never wanting to see him again, but he couldn’t allow for her to be left hanging high and dry. He was going to help her get back on her feet and with dignity if it was the last thing he did.
“Richard, look. I didn’t call to debate my sexual history with you. I just asked you to check out a friend’s work and I’d rather her not know I had anything to do with it. She’s a very talented artist, one of the finest I’ve ever seen, and I want her to believe she made it on her own and not because she was given a handout. Surely, you can understand that.”
“Hmm…” Richard droned forth. “Impressive.”
Grayson furrowed his brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m awestruck. Grayson Anders wants to do for someone without them ‘doing him’ first. Has hell frozen over?”
“Screw you, Richard.”
“I’m serious. This is incredible. You’re finally realizing that generosity has its place in your world. And I commend you for it.”
Grayson pinched the bridge of his nose. “Does that mean you’ll check it out tomorrow?”
“Yeah, it does.”
Grayson felt his heart leap and a smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. “Great. I appreciate it. I’ll text you the address.”
“Sounds good,” Richard returned. “Hey, by the way, did you find your mysterious lover and dance partner today?”
Grayson didn’t want to lie to his friend. “I’m still working on it,” he confessed.
Richard’s cynical laughter followed. “Good luck with that.”
****
Monday rolled around and Grayson was up two hours earlier than normal, simply because he couldn’t sleep anymore. He was up most of the night and it wasn’t due to a bad kind of insomnia, the kind that left one tossing and turning, eager to find a much needed slumber. His was the good kind, where he couldn’t get a certain amazing woman out of his mind.
He thought of Chloe for hours after he had talked to Richard and couldn’t wait for the next weeks to pass by, the days when he would put his next plan into motion. It was going to take some time and some very careful planning to get Chloe to see him in a better light, and not as the immature chicken-shit of a man he was yesterday. There were delicate eggshells beneath his feet and if didn’t play his cards right, he’d never get the chance to prove himself to her. From here on out, things had to go according to plan or he could just as well kiss Chloe LaRoche goodbye. And that was not what he was willing to do.
He didn’t really know why the woman had a hold on him, but at this point in the game, he quit questioning it. It was the first time he had been eager to be with a woman outside his bed and these kinds of feelings didn’t come his way often. Whatever it was that drew him to her, he wasn’t about to let it go.
“Ring dammit!” he commanded to the cell phone in his hand while he paced his bedroom. He checked his watch for the third time, wondering why Richard had not called yet. Surely, since it was past ten o’clock, Richard should’ve been to Chloe’s by now and seen her paintings. Why hadn’t he called?<
br />
He threw the phone on the bed and stared at the blank wall across from it, the empty space where his favorite painting would soon hang. He stepped backward, until he felt his footboard behind his knees, and sat down, envisioning her beautiful self-portrait in front of him. He could imagine closing his eyes to sleep every night, with Chloe being the last thing he’d see and the first thing he’d wake up to.
His shoulders relaxed as he thought of it. His extravagant bedroom, though somewhat plain without curtains, would finally be complete. As far as he was concerned, the only thing that would make his bedroom better would be to have Chloe draped across his bed, in the flesh. For now, he’d take the two dimensional option.
As he was deep in his thought, the phone rang. In haste, he grabbed it and answered it before the second ring.
“Hello?”
“Good morning, silent partner,” Richard said, with a peculiar tone in his voice.
Grayson narrowed his eyes. “Good morning to you, too, Richard.” He heard Richard laugh on the other end. “What’s so funny?”
“You didn’t care for my ‘silent partner’ joke?”
“Depends on what you mean by it.”
“Oh, quit acting like you’re naïve. You know damn well what I mean by it. I just came from Chloe’s shop…and I made a few purchases.”
Grayson smiled, feeling his stomach knot up. “And…”
“And she’s going to be one of the featured artists at the Back Bay Boston Exhibit at R. Fitzgerald Gallery. I have a truck picking up all her paintings this afternoon.”
A wave of relief came over Grayson. “Really?”
“Yeah, really. She’s just like you said; one of the finest artists around. Thanks for the heads-up.”
Grayson ran his hand through his hair, still finding it hard to believe the first part of his plan had gone through without a hitch. “No problem. I’m just glad you’re going to benefit as well.”
“Oh, I can already foresee that,” Richard chimed in. “But what I can’t predict is why you didn’t feel the need to tell me she was deaf.”
Grayson chuckled nervously. “Well, honestly I didn’t want there to be any predisposition on your end. I wanted you to see her work for what it was, without feeling like a heel in the event you didn’t think it would make the cut.”
“I appreciate that, Gray. But perhaps you can cut the noble gentleman crap and tell me what part you get to play in all this. Because, frankly, I can’t begin to fathom the kind of devious plans you have in store for this woman. Now granted, she’s gorgeous—right up your alley when it comes to picking out the T and A of the world. But she is still deaf, hardly the kind of woman I’d think you to pursue.”
Grayson came to his feet, a little offended by his friend’s implication. “Who said I was pursuing her?”
“So, you are going to deny it now? Come on, Gray…it’s me you’re talking to here. I know you. I know you better than you know yourself sometimes.”
So true. He and Richard had too much history together to repudiate that, but he didn’t feel comfortable coming clean with Richard. Not now. Not this way. He feared if he told Richard about his past involvement with Chloe, it would only hurt her in the end. As much as he’d like to brag about it, he had too much riding on making his stratagem work.
“I’m sorry, Richard. I wish I had more to tell you. When it comes to Chloe and me, I’m in the dark as much as you are.”
Richard gave a slight grunt on the line. “Still don’t believe you. But, I gotta run. Lots of paperwork to finish before the exhibition opens.”
Grayson tried to act surprised. “Right. So, when is it again?”
“Two weeks from today. Why? You gonna attend?”
“Nah,” Grayson said. “Not this time.”
“You afraid it’s too upscale for you?”
“No, I just think I prefer to remain true to my name. You know...the silent partner.”
“Mmm-hmm. I see. Fair enough. Talk to you later.”
Grayson hung up the phone, and shoved it in his back pocket. As he mulled over the term, silent partner, he grabbed his keys and walked out the door.
****
“You gonna tell me what we’re doing here, inconspicuously staking out Chloe’s shop like a bunch of snoopin’ cops?” Gerry finally asked after about thirty minutes of watching the meter run.
“Just wait,” Grayson droned from behind his newspaper. “You’ll see.” He had it held up in front of him, as if he were reading it, while peeking out from behind it from time to time. He glanced at his watch, figuring an R. Fitzgerald moving truck should be pulling up any second. He didn’t care as much about the truck as did about getting a glimpse of Chloe. He wanted to see her reaction without her realizing she was being watched.
Right on time, a large white truck with fancy blue script passed by and pulled right in front of her gallery. Two men exited the vehicle, one with a clipboard, and made their way around the back to the cargo hold, lifting the door wide open. After a few moments of watching the movers prep the trailer, he saw two women come out and stand on the sidewalk.
Grayson tucked himself behind his newspaper for good measure and peered around it soon after. He didn’t recognize one female, but assumed she was some kind of community interpreter. The other woman, he knew without a doubt was Chloe, and to his dismay, she looked indifferent to the whole situation. Not at all what he would’ve expected to see with an R. Fitzgerald Gallery truck sitting in front of her store.
“What’s going on?” Gerry asked, his eyes glued to the truck.
“What’s it look like?”
Gerry turned his head around, giving Grayson a patronizing look. “Well, as far as I can tell, there’s two moving men about to haul Chloe’s stuff away.”
“Not just any moving truck,” Grayson corrected. “An R. Fitzgerald moving truck.”
“You mean from R. Fitzgerald Gallery—the R. Fitzgerald Gallery sitting smack dab in the middle of the elite district of downtown Boston?”
“That would be the one.”
Gerry leaned back and watched the movers. “You wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would you?”
“Between you and Chloe? No.”
Gerry smiled, but never tore his eyes from the men now carrying sealed canvases from Chloe’s gallery, one by one. He seemed to have picked up on Grayson’s Good Samaritan act. “Don’t worry, Mr. Anders. Your secret is safe with me.”
“I know that. Which is why I had you, and only you, drive me here.”
“So, this is good then. I mean, for Chloe.”
“Oh, it’s very good,” Grayson replied coolly. “Her troubles should be long gone now.”
Gerry glanced over his shoulder. “Since when do you care about Chloe?”
Grayson took a deep breath. “I have no idea, Gerry.”
“Well, I doubt you’ll ever know. I’ve been married twelve years and I still haven’t figured it out. In the end, it’s useless to try. Just roll with it.”
“I believe that’s all I can do at the moment.”
“You ever gonna tell her? About this?”
Grayson turned the page of his newspaper, still playing the part of the unknown passenger. “What purpose would it serve?”
Gerry cleared his throat and spat out the obvious. “It would serve you.”
“Sure. But, is that really the right way to start a relationship? Making the other feel as if they owe something in return?”
Gerry shook his head. “Never thought you had it in you.”
“Neither did I,” Grayson admitted.
“So, what are we doing here anyway?”
“Wait for it…” Grayson lowered his newspaper and spied over the top, catching Chloe and her interpreter friend signing back and forth with each other. After a few more hand gestures, he saw Chloe reach out and hug the woman, a huge, bright smile plastered across her face.
Finally.
Grayson slumped in his seat, taking in the beautiful sight.
Chloe’s genuine smile was the very reaction he hoped for and only thing he needed to see. Nothing more.
“Let’s go home, Gerry.”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Anders.”
****
For days, Grayson had been so preoccupied with Chloe and fixing what he had screwed up that he hardly realized the approach of the weekend. If not for hearing the loud music his D.J. started to play two floors down, he would never have known it was Friday night.
He glanced at his laptop’s clock in the bottom corner of his screen: six thirty on the dot.
Normally, he would have been dressed and sitting at the bar with his bartender, Jack, going over drink specials and bouncer placement. Tonight, he wasn’t in the mood. All he wanted to do was to continue surfing the web for products dedicated to the deaf. If he wanted Chloe to be his dance partner for his studio, then he had to find some sort of adaptation devise that would allow her to hear the slamming bass of the music without blaring everyone else’s eardrums out.
After several hours, he did.
He came across Harris Communications, an on-line product site for the deaf and hearing impaired, and to his delight, they sold many different specialty ear buds compatible with all iPhone/iPods/MP3 players. As he clicked around the site, reading reviews and various product details, he also came across a Krown Sign Language Translator. It was a cell-phone-sized gadget where one could type in a word using the touch screen, and a video would pop up, showing a woman demonstrating the correct way to sign it.
Without hesitation, he clicked the “Add To Cart” button on both the hand-held translator and the discreetly-sized headphones, and made his purchase. He sat back on his couch, still astonished that these products even existed. Unbeknownst to him, there was a whole new world out there and he felt quite ashamed for initially thinking Chloe was too far outside his. When, in fact, he was the outsider. For years, she had been adapting to his world. Now it was time for him to step into hers and walk a mile in her shoes.
He only hoped she’d not slam the door in his face when he got there.
After noting the tentative shipping date on his invoice, he shut the laptop and set it aside. He was both excited and nervous for his purchases to arrive, and he hoped, with him trying to learn sign language, he wouldn’t make any more of an ass of himself than he already had.
Unforgettable Heroes Boxed Set Page 129