While waiting for Ivan to arrive at her door, she desperately scrambles for a cover story to give Taylor the alibi that she has asked for.
“Think, think, think, Karina. Think!” She paces back and forth. She hears Ivan’s knock on the door and tries to gather her thoughts. She’s not accustomed to lying and doesn’t know how to begin.
Taking a few deep breaths, she opens and door and stares at Ivan blankly, “I told you. Taylor is not here.”
“That’s alright Karina, just let me in.” Ivan begs.
Karina sighs out loud and gestures him in. “Can I offer you anything? Coffee?”
Ivan politely thanks her and sits down on the sofa, “No I’m fine, thank you.” He pauses and looks around, “What’s that smell?”
“Oh,” Karina laughs, “that’s the smell of anciently old canvas mixed with the beautiful scent of new oil paint.”
After a ten minutes casual conversation, Karina’s migraine is becoming unbearable. Impatiently she inquires his intension of the visit. “Ivan, what do you want? You really can’t wait for Taylor here, she’s not coming back for a while.”
“Where is she?” Ivan seems baffled and worried.
Blurting out the first thing that comes to her mind, “She’s taking a vacation.” Karina stutters when she lies.
“Where?” Ivan presses for answers.
“Paris!” Karina tries to justify Taylor’s unavailability to answer his calls. Naturally, vacationing in a foreign country would explain the lack of communication.
Ivan stands up and walks over to Karina. Looking at her with an intimidating stare, “You’re lying! Her passport is home and she couldn’t have travelled out of the country.” Ivan repeats firmly, “Where is she?”
Studying the frightened look upon her face, “Is she ok?” he inches closer, “Karina? Is she ok?”
Caught red handed, Karina feels stupid and intimidated. “I don’t know!” she bursts out in tears, “So many things have happened in the past few weeks since you sent her on a ninety hiatus, I don’t even know where to begin. Everyone is either dead or in the hospital. I can’t take this burden anymore.” She begins to lose control and sobs hysterically.
Ivan feels weak in the knees, turns pale and demands an answer, “What Karina, you’re frightening me. Who’s dead and who’s in the hospital?” Ivan puts his hands on Karina’s arms and squeezes her firmly to contain her emotional outburst, “Stop crying Karina. Get a grip. You can be in control, yes you can.”
He pulls her into his arms and hugs her firmly to comfort her. “Take your time. It’s ok. Take your time.” His heart is pounding and worries about Taylor. Impatiently he waits for her to stop crying.
“I feel better now.” Karina pulls away and tries to explain the best she can. “Theodore is dead. Neyo is in jail. Amber is recovering from captivity. Conrad is in critical condition in the hospital. Taylor had an accident and is hospitalized too.” She presses her lips together and looks at him with teary eyes. “And Karina is all alone.”
Feeling exceedingly sorry for her loss, he pulls her into his arms again and offers comfort. “Oh Karina, I’m so sorry.” Finally he understands her erratic behavior and fears that she is on the brink of emotional collapse.
She takes a step back and regains control. Wiping away the teardrops dangling from the corners of her mesmerizing blue eyes, she adds, “Taylor has asked me not to tell you anything. She specifically asked me not to tell you that she is in the hospital. She doesn’t want you to know that she feels shattered, broken and defeated.” She adds her own opinion, “I think you murdered her pride.”
“What else did she say?” Disheartened, Ivan presses for more.
Karina sighs, “Listen, I really don’t want to be stuck in between. If you really care to know how she feels, then it’s best that you ask her yourself.”
Ivan appears disappointed. Not understanding Taylor at all, he becomes defensive and shrugs, “Very well, if she wants to hide the accident from me, then let it remain a secret. I won’t put you in an awkward situation, I’ll pretend I that never came here today and you never told me anything. I’ll pretend that I don’t know. Will that work for you?”
“Wouldn’t that be lying?” Karina blinks and is as confused as ever.
“Yes.” Ivan answers without hesitation. “But that’s what she wants right?”
Karina pauses. “Oh my God. Both of you are driving me insane! This is way too complicated for my simple mind.” She sighs again. “I don’t know Ivan. Do whatever you think is best. Just remember this, she loves you. I know Taylor, she has always been this confidently self assured happy spirit. I’m not sure what has happened, she never told me but I think she has lost herself and is having a difficult time finding her way back.”
“And you think I contributed to all that?” Ivan seeks clarification and argues.
Karina looks baffled. In her mind, Ivan is a top notch publisher and editor, Taylor is a writer and author. Both of them, of all people she knows, should be communication experts, but in reality, she is feels truly sorry to see their inability to communicate with each other. She sees so much misunderstanding between the two and does not know how to help them. She can’t be anyone’s therapist when she needs one herself.
Quite lost herself, Karina is unsure of what love means anymore. The only thing that she knows is that love should not be a power struggle.
“Ivan.” She stares at him blankly and continues, “If you want answers, don’t ask me. Ask her.”
************ Karina’s growing migraine seems to worsen by the minute since Ivan’s surprise visit. Sitting alone on her sofa, she suffocates on the strong odor of her newly finished painting and decides to head to the office for air.
Donning a pair of jeans and a fitted tank top, she pulls her hair into a pony tail and drags herself out of her home. Passing by the pharmacy, she picks up a bottle of Tylenol and heads to the gallery. Not in the mood for visitors, she leaves the lights off the main gallery and locks the door behind her.
She grabs a bottle of water from the mini fridge and sits behind her desk. Diligently she swallows two tablets of the pain killer and waits for her migraine to cease.
Leaning back onto the backrest of the leather chair, she tilts her head and faces the ceiling. She shuts her eyes to rest and the words of the riddle floods her mind. She chants the perfectly memorized words:
“Way above my head. Everyone is dead. Inside 585-393-585 Are Treasures We Must Hide.”
As if inspired, she opens her eyes abruptly and looks above her head. Something is either hidden in the ceiling or in the wall space above his chair. She stands up quickly, rolls the leather chair to the side and studies the painting that hangs on the back wall ‘above his head.’
Karina takes off her shoes, rolls back the chair and stands tip toes on it. Using her fingers, she feels around the corners of the frame and finds a hidden button on the top of the frame. She raises her eyebrows, presses on the button and the painting pops open from the side, revealing a hidden vault.
Startled, she mumbles. “This is interesting.” She chants out the numbers in her mind and turns the dial in the proper sequence. Counter clockwise to 585, clockwise to 393, then counter clockwise again to 585.
As if a revelation is revealed, she squeals in delight. “Oh my God!” she laughs and props open the door of the vault. She tip toes some more and stares into the long dark interior of the vault and pulls out a few tubes of paintings.
“Oh my God!” she repeats blissfully and is relieved to have solved the riddle that has been baffling her for weeks. Her eyes gleaming with excitement, she opens the tubes and unrolls the paintings.
One by one she spreads them out on the floor and steps back to study them. Something about these paintings look incredibly familiar, but being new in the art world, she cannot tell what they are. Squinting and trying her best to read the signature on the paintings, she grabs a magnifying glass and inspects the signature closely.
T
rying to follow the phonetics, she attempts to read it out loud, “Randro Lottiselh? … no … Ramdre Bottisett?” She pauses and it strikes her that she has seen paintings in very similar styles before. “Think, Karina think!” She focuses and tries to back track on a lesson that Theodore has taught her. “Sandro Botticelli!” She exclaims and repeats in laughter. “But of course, a dead painter! It’s Sandro Botticelli! ”
Quickly she turns on the computer and searches for the art guide and master listing of all known pieces by Botticelli. Comparing the images with the paintings that lay spread on the floor, she comes to a conclusion that the paintings in her possession are unlisted and are unknown to the world.
Overwhelmed by the excitement, she comes to a hasty conclusion that these paintings hidden in Theodore’s vault are original pieces from Sandro Botticelli that have never been discovered or made known to the public. However lacking authentication, she doubts the assumptions but acutely believes that she might have invaluable world treasures on her hands!
Furthering her imagination, perhaps the anciently old canvas can be traced back to the Botticelli era as well? If there are any connections between the two, then the canvas that he has left her with might possibly be from the Italian Renaissance period, which would mean that she has just painted on a canvas that is more than five hundred years old.
Shocked by discoveries, Karina has nobody to turn to. Being new in the art world, she is not well connected and is not resourceful. She knows only one person who may be able to help her put the pieces of the bewildering puzzle together.
About to call on her client, Renzo Trovatelli, for his expertise, she chants the rest of riddle again in her mind and whispers, “Inside 585-393-585, are treasures we must hide.”
She sinks into the sofa, stares at the paintings scattered on the floor and begins to wonder why Theodore would want her to hide these treasures from the world.
Baffled beyond imagination, she carefully rolls the paintings and inserts them back into the tubes. Putting them back into the vault and locking up, the suspense of the unknown consumes her. No matter how tempting it is for her to call Renzo for authentication, she must oblige to Theodore’s wishes.
If Theodore wants the paintings to forever remain a secret, then she will have no choice but to ensure that the secret is kept.
Chapter Ten.
Coping with the stress and pressure of their second season opening night of ‘Life After Death,’ Amanda, a tall husky woman with short jet black hair, production manager of Amber’s Broadway musical, rushes through the narrow passages of the back stage dressing rooms and shouts repeatedly and urges the cast to stand by, “Everyone, fifteen to curtains!” Flipping through the pages of her clipboard and reading her notes, she shouts loudly to ensure that she’s audible. “Troy, Savanna, Leroy, Toby and Scott, you’re up first so please get back stage now!”
She turns around, prances to Amber’s private dressing room and knocks on the door before opening it. Peeking in, she speaks excitedly, “Miss Winters, fifteen to curtain.”
Amber stands gracefully tiptoed and is warming up. Her infamous black toe shoes are perfectly laced up and she raises a leg, gently resting the heel on the dressing table and bends to stretch. Amanda admires the way that Amber moves, each motion is artistic, soft yet powerful. When the toe shoes are on, Amber is pure magic, capable of mesmerizing and captivating, once she begins to sing and dance, spirits are drawn into her soul. When she performs on stage, it is virtually impossible to disengage from the admiration of the beauty and artistic expressions that she protrudes. With glamour such as hers, brilliance never subsides and radiance only shines brighter each day.
Noticing Amanda’s gaze, Amber tilts her head and smiles, “See you in five.” Standing up she adds quickly, “Oh Amanda, can you please answer my calls for me?” Amber reaches for her phone and hands it to Amanda. “I’m expecting a call from Taylor. Please let her know that two front row tickets are waiting for her and Karina at the box office. Thank you Amanda.”
“Sure Miss Winters. Break a leg.” Amanda takes the phone and responds diligently, “I’ll take care of everything else.”
Amber stands on tiptoes again and stretches in front of the mirror. She wishes that Conrad is well enough to be there. Blowing a kiss at their photo frame on her dressing table, she looks lovingly at his image and smiles. “I love you Conrad.”
Truth in the matter is, she loves him more than life itself and can’t wait until he fully recovers so she can convey how she truly feels. She simply can’t wait for the moment when they will be together again and she will gaze into his eyes and answer him, “Yes Conrad I will marry you. I will be your wife and will spend the rest of my life loving you.”
She hears Amanda screaming behind her closed door, “Five minutes to curtain!” Amber smiles and murmurs at his photo, “It’s time.”
Gracefully, she walks backstage and waits. She blows a kiss to the cast and sends them her confidence while anticipating the curtains to go up.
Amber sees Amanda answering her phone from across the backstage. She nods and gestures her gratitude for taking care of her personal calls then fixates her focus on the curtain that is about to go up anytime.
On the other side of the backstage, Amanda freezes and turns pale while listening carefully to the words of the Chief Of Staff from Mount Sinai Hospital. Something dreadful has happened to Conrad.
“I’m so sorry. I understand that it’s the hospital’s error and we will take full responsibility.” The Chief Of Staff continues, “Please ask Miss Winters to return my call as soon as possible.”
Amanda looks across the stage and searches visually for Amber, who is about to step out onto the stage. She is aware of the seriousness of the hospital’s error and is worried about Conrad. Debating on the predicament, she is hesitant to tell Amber right away, the news will most certainly affect Amber’s performance and there is virtually nothing that she or anyone can do now. The damage of the hospital’s error has been done and cannot be reversed, so she decides to wait until the end of the finale before she breaks the horrific news.
Feeling sorry for what has happened to Conrad, Amanda watches the entire performance feeling guilty while bearing the burden of knowledge. She watches Amber’s glorious performance and her radiant smile as she curtseys while the curtains close.
The opening night of the second season is a roaring success and as the cast indulge themselves with the overflowing flutes of champagne, Amanda searches desperately for Amber and finds her in her dressing room taking photos for the press.
Without hesitation, Amanda interrupts the shoot and grabs Amber by the arm.
Surprised by her abruptness, Amber stares at Amanda and seeks explanation, “What is it?”
“It’s Conrad.” Amanda speaks rapidly all in one breath and returns Amber’s phone to her. “The hospital called and said that there was a hospital error. Conrad is back is surgery.”
“What are you talking about?” Amber blunts out in bafflement. “Conrad was alright when I was there this afternoon. What the hell happened?”
Feeling horrible over the incident, Amanda tries to speak as concisely as possible to avoid further confusion. “He was trying to explain that an intern miscalculated the dosage of his pain medication and caused a respiratory failure, which triggered a heart attack.” she tries to continue explaining but is halted by Amber’s scream.
Amber’s world seems to implode. Without undressing or bidding goodbye to anyone, she wastes no time, grabs her bag and dashes to the parking garage to fetch her car. Speeding over to the hospital as if a lunatic on the road, she cuts across lanes erratically and hopes to get there as quickly as possible.
Not knowing exactly what has happened and unsure of how Conrad is doing, she feels this immense pressure inside her chest and is about to have a panic attack. Her heart is pounding as she pulls into the parking lot of the hospital and at this particular moment, it frightens her to realize how much she truly loves him.<
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She marches through the quiet corridors, walks straight past the nurses’ station and ignores the triage nurse who tries to stop her from visiting in the after hours. Blinded with fear, she heads to Conrad’s room and is calmed to find him sleeping peacefully.
Sighing in relief and tearing soundlessly in joy, she sits next to him and cradles his face with her hands. She leans over and kisses him ever so gently then delicately whispers into his ear, “Conrad, I know you can hear me. I honestly love you.”
************
Taylor stands motionlessly still in front of the entrance of the office. She stares through the glass doors and fixates her stare on the signage of Miami Life Publications that hangs proudly on the wall.
Nervously she shudders. It has been three whole months since she last showed up at Ivan’s office and unsure of his reaction to see her today, she hesitates.
She shrugs off the fear of rejection and courageously pulls open the heavy glass doors. She understands that she must either find a way to reconcile with him or find closure in their relationship and move on.
She takes a deep breath and daringly walks into the office as if nothing has ever happened. Paying no attention to onlookers, she is prepared for gossips behind her back. Taylor walks past Samantha’s cubicle and looks the other way to avoid eye contact. Her heart is pounding and she can feel cold sweat on the palms of her hand. Nervous as can be, she reaches Ivan’s office and knocks on the door.
Ivan looks through the glass door and appears shocked to see Taylor. For a few moments, the world stands still for the pair as their gaze interlock, both unable to move a muscle. He is unsure of how to react and she is afraid of making another move. Holding her breath, she opens the door and enters.
Timidly she speaks ever so softly and is barely audible, “Hi.” She smiles nervously.
As if speech impaired, Ivan isn’t able to mutter a word and is only capable of gazing at the woman that he loves. There hasn’t been one single day that she hasn’t crossed his mind and no matter how much he misses her, he has refrained from calling her again and has waited for her ever since they left each other three months ago.
Round N Around We Go (Has Cupid Gone Mad?) Page 10