Lace and Paint (True Colors Book 1)

by Ally Sky

  Ben stands behind me, smiling. “Why are you doing that?”

  “Some things you just can’t feel with your eyes,” I answer.

  “That’s why your hands are red.”

  I look at my hands. They really are red. Embarrassing.

  “Yes. I’m impulsive. I finger paint.”

  “I’m sure. I’ve seen your painting.”

  “You can still have it,” I answer, my back to him. I’m not even sure he likes it. Maybe he’s just trying to be nice. Maybe it’s all part of a game he’s playing. I haven’t figured it out yet.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  “Barcelona,” I say the first thing that comes to mind. He really doesn’t want to know what I’m thinking.

  “Have you been there?” He seems intrigued.

  “Yes. You?” This guy, who owns a construction company, is sure to have been to a few places in his life.

  “No.”

  “You should go.” I look at him. He definitely should.

  “Gaudi?” he smiles.

  “Him too.”

  “What’s it like?”

  “Barcelona? Amazing.” I sigh with yearning.

  “What so amazing about it?”

  “You want to hear about Barcelona while we do Camden?” Amused, I glance at him. His phone rings, startling us and he slides it from the back pocket of his jeans, glancing at the screen with a worried look.

  “I have to take this,” he apologizes, and answers, turning his back to me. I pretend to check out the wall, while trying to eavesdrop.

  “Ronnie…calm down and explain it to me.” Ben’s tone snaps with focus. “Goddammit! No, it’s not your fault. Where are you? Stay there! Ronnie, stay there!”

  He ends the call and turns to me. His expression scares me.

  “Talia,” he runs his hand through his short hair. His body is tense. “I have to go. Do you think you can take the tube back?”

  “Of course,” I answer right away. That phone call is concerning him. And now I’m concerned.

  “I’m really sorry. Fuck!” he swears. “I hate leaving you here. But it’s really urgent.”

  “I can see that, and it’s okay,” I try to assure him. “I’m a big girl, I’ll be fine. Go.” I make a shooing motion. Whatever the call was about, it sounds bad.

  “I’ll call later to make sure you got home.” Is he worried about me? I’m only in Camden…

  “Are you still here?” I smile at him.

  He takes one last look at me and releases his breath quickly, as though he’s been holding it for the past few minutes. He strides away, takes his phone out of his pocket, and disappears among the crowd.

  What just happened? He looked so worried. It must be something serious, because he doesn’t seem as though he scares easily. He didn’t run off when I told him about my bipolar. It wasn’t what I expected. I’m so used to people’s shocked reactions and their pitiful looks. But he didn’t seem perturbed at all.

  I’ll Google it…

  God, this guy confuses me, and I can’t stop thinking about him. And that really, really sucks.

  At six thirty, I’m tidying up after dinner, which I’d prepared for me and my men. I’m still trying to stop worrying. And I’m still confused. Ben’s sudden departure was troubling.

  Danny is lying on the sofa in front of the television, John is smoking on the patio, and I’m washing the dishes, when suddenly there’s a knock at the door.

  “Come in!” Danny shouts without getting up. I look away from the sink. Ben. He isn’t smiling. My stomach sinks. Why isn’t he smiling?

  “Hi.” He meets my gaze with tired eyes.

  “Hi,” I answer with concern. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah. It’s been a long day.” He looks exhausted.

  “Can I make you some coffee?” I wipe my hands on the white kitchen towel. I don’t like seeing him like this. I prefer him being annoying and sarcastic.

  “Actually I have something else in mind.” He finally manages a smile. I feel relieved.

  “Oh.” I’m surprised.

  “Danny, I’m taking your sister out, after leaving her stranded at Camden Market.” He throws a quick glance at Danny, who doesn’t tear his eyes away from the television. I stop breathing for a minute. He wants to go out?

  “Enjoy yourselves,” Danny yawns widely. Ben looks at me again.

  “Do you feel like going?”

  My heart begins racing. “Why not?” My smile is friendly, if forced. “Let me just change my clothes.”

  I stand before my closet, trying to calm down. He can’t know. He can’t even suspect that my heart is reacting this way. He’s Danny’s boss! What the hell am I thinking? He’s just trying to apologize for ditching me.

  Well, it’s very nice of him. His mother raised him well.

  I pull on a dark pair of trousers and a long-sleeved black shirt, slip my feet into black stilettos, grab my jacket, and make my way back to the kitchen. Ben and John are having a quiet conversation. Ben looks up and smiles when he hears the tap of my heels.

  “Are you ready?” Ben is staring at me, as though checking me out.

  Don’t be silly…

  “Yes.” I smile self-consciously.

  “Let’s go and have a drink somewhere.” He ushers me to the door and opens it for me. I’m not used to men opening the door for me. The old-fashioned gesture is charming.

  “Where were you thinking of going?” We walk along the driveway, leaving the house behind.

  “There’s a nice café not too far from here.”

  “I should warn you,” I laugh, “I don’t like the coffee in London.”

  I can’t stand the coffee in most places in the city, if you can even call the beverage they serve coffee. Maybe just a latte from Pret a Manger—weak and hold the foam. That’s bearable.

  “You’ll like their coffee.” He’s looking at the street, his hands shoved into the pockets of the same jeans from this morning.

  “You look lovely,” he says. I can’t believe it. He really was checking me out.

  “Thanks.” I blush, hoping he can’t see. “Is everything okay with your guy?” I glance sideways at him. He looks great himself.

  “Yeah, it’s just Ronnie, one of my guys.”

  “You mean one of your friends?”

  “No.” He smiles slightly. “My guys. I manage a small project. I mentor a few young entrepreneurs who are learning how to take responsibility for their lives and want to establish small businesses.”

  Oh. Sounds interesting.

  “How do you help them?” My curiosity is piqued.

  “I teach them how to write a business plan, recruit investors, you know, take their first steps in the business world.” This guy is really something special.

  “Do you give them money?”

  “No, not usually. The idea is to teach them self-reliance. Most of them come from disadvantaged homes.”

  I swear there’s a sparkle in his eyes as he speaks about the project.

  “Do you do it voluntarily?”

  “Yes. It’s my baby. They come once a week to my conference room and that’s where all the magic takes place.”

  “It sounds amazing.” I can’t help but feel enthralled.

  “You know, it’s just my way of giving something back. I was very lucky and I hope that one day they will pass it on.”

  “This Ronnie, it sounds as if you’re attached to him.”

  “Yes, not the best thing to do in business.” He’s thoughtful for a second, then continues, “But Ronnie is a good guy. And he needs to know someone cares for him.”

  I don’t know who this Ronnie is, but I do know what it feels like when no one cares about you.

  “I think you’re doing something really special.”

  “Well, it’s not something I’m doing singlehandedly.” He flashes me a smile. “Everyone is taking part. John probably wants to kill me with the amount of legal work it creates for him.” He laughs
again. We both know it’s not true. John fought his way up, and I know he must be happy to be involved.

  “Danny’s never told me anything about it.”

  “It’s not the kind of thing you talk about, it’s the kind of thing you just do.”

  Ben stares intently at me as I take a testing sip from the weak, foam-free latte.

  Jesus, relax, it’s only coffee.

  “Well?” he asks.

  The coffee is surprisingly delicious.

  “Excellent.” I smile widely. Ben breathes a sigh of relief, palming his forehead with a mock wipe.

  “I’m sorry I left you at Camden. I don’t usually do that.” He takes a small sip from his coffee and looks at me with his insanely green eyes.

  “I understand you had to leave. It’s no problem.”

  “So where were we…Barcelona.” The fact that he remembers what we were talking about throws me for a loop.

  “Barcelona.” A huge grin appears on my face the minute I start talking. “Barcelona is gorgeous. The first thing that amazed me was the atmosphere. It’s a city that never sleeps! Even at midnight, you’ll have no problem finding a place to sit and have a drink.”

  I’m so enthusiastic and watch the smile widening on his face. My visit to Barcelona was really successful.

  “And the parks! I sat with my laptop for hours at Park Güell.”

  “And did you write your blog?” His long fingers are hugging his cup of coffee.

  “Yes. Gaudi’s work is so…alive. The colors. You really must go.”

  “Sounds amazing.” His eyes are shining. God help me. I am sitting at a coffee shop with this man, who is telling me about all the incredible things he does, and he’s interested in me.

  “Anyway, at the Boqueria Market, I was in for a surprise. Everyone told me I had to go, and it was close to my hotel. So I decided to pop in to take a peek. What a mistake that was!” I chuckle. I can still smell that terrible smell of fish.

  “A mistake?” He grins at me.

  “Yes. Do you know how difficult it is to eat strawberries that smell like fish? I’m telling you, a big, red strawberry, probably completely engineered, dimpled like a strawberry should be, and it all smells like fish! And I hate fish!” I carry on laughing.

  “Your ability to describe one simple strawberry is quite impressive.” His voice quietly lowers. Wow. My body reacts to his voice. It’s too much.

  “The market was a mistake. But Plaza Reial…I’d go back there right now.”

  Well, not right now exactly. I don’t want to go anywhere right now. I’m exactly where I want to be right now.

  He grimaces. “Plaza Reial?”

  Even when he makes a face, he looks great.

  “Yes, imagine a huge courtyard,” I spread my arms, gesturing widely, “that’s really huge, surrounded by four buildings. In the center, there’s a fountain, surrounded by cafes, bars, restaurants. It’s right in the center of the city, but the moment you enter it, all the hustle and bustle goes away, and even when it’s packed with people, you get a feeling of intimacy. Well, you can probably imagine how many hours I sat there and wrote.”

  “So Barcelona excited you?” He smiles again.

  “Yes. The colors, the smells, the people are happy everywhere. There’s music and laughter and Gaudi. Barcelona excited me—a little too much,” I admit. “I didn’t really look after myself there.”

  A glass of wine here, another one there, combined with sleep deprivation—it was a sure recipe for disaster.

  “You didn’t look after yourself?”

  “It was one big celebration for all my senses, and my small problems became big ones,” I whisper and look down at my cup of coffee.

  “Your bipolar disorder?”

  “Yes.” I’m still whispering. “I don’t like talking about it.”

  I play with my fingers around the cup, unable to look at him. I didn’t plan on talking to him about it.

  “I see.”

  “It’s only from experience, believe me.” Bad experience.

  “Why?”

  “Why don’t I like talking about it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Because people don’t understand it—don’t understand me.”

  “And then you get hurt.”

  “Usually,” I mutter. I don’t want to think now about all those times I got hurt, compromised, and agreed to do things I should never have agreed to do. Just so I wouldn’t be alone.

  “It’s probably not as bad as you make it out to be.” He smiles.

  He has no idea.

  “Believe me, it is.”

  I bit my lower lip and meet his eyes. His face turns grave and he stops laughing. He sees the pain. And I think he sees what I’m feeling.

  “You expected me to run away, screaming.”

  “As I said, years of experience.” I let go of my cup and gesture a walking motion with my fingers towards the door.

  “Is that why you’re so thin?” His question hits me like a ton of bricks, and I flinch.

  “I’m not that thin,” I garble the words. I can almost sense the blood draining from my face.

  He rolls his eyes. “Talia…”

  “What?”

  “You’re being evasive.”

  He doesn’t cut me any slack!

  “I just don’t eat a lot. That’s all.” I try to distract him from the painful subject.

  “What does that mean?” He straightens in his chair, his body taut. His jaw is tight, his gaze penetrating.

  “It’s complicated,” I reply.

  “Oh, come on.”

  “I’m very strict about my food intake.” I take another sip of coffee.

  “What does that mean?” His probing gaze never wavers.

  He knows I don’t want to talk about it, and it’s not any of his business, so why is he insisting?

  “Can we maybe not have this conversation here?” I’m angry. I place my coffee on the table deliberately and cross my arms on my chest.

  “Don’t avoid the subject. No one knows us here.”

  He doesn’t give up but I refuse to answer him.

  “Talia, what do you eat?” he carries on with his terrible interrogation and I get even angrier.

  “Carrots and cucumbers. What do you think?” I answer sarcastically.

  “Don’t be nasty!”

  “Don’t piss me off!”

  “I piss you off?”

  “Extremely!”

  “You’re pissing me off with your vague answers. What’s your problem?” He raises his voice, ignoring the other patrons, he doesn’t care who’s listens. He wants answers and he wants them now.

  “Which problem do you want first?” I shoot back.

  “All of them!” His insistence enrages me.

  He wants all the shit? What’s wrong with him? Is he out of his fucking mind?

  “I don’t eat a lot! And when I do, I sometimes throw up! I have mood swings, and I can be unstable because of my bipolar, which means an imbalance of chemicals in my brain, and I don’t take my pills, because they ruin me and make me fat and I can’t write or paint when I take them! And now that I’ve saved you all the Googling you were planning on doing this conversation is over!” I get up and grab my bag, leaving him, stunned, as I march away.

  Ugh.

  Luckily, the house is close. When I get there, I storm in and slam the door behind me. Danny comes running out of the bedroom, his face open with panic. When he sees me, he screeches to a halt at the end of the hallway, with a grin on his face.

  “You and your aggravating friend,” I yell at him.

  “Someone had fun, I see.” He looks amused, does he think this is funny?

  “God! You’re both aggravating!” I shout from the other side of the room.

  He laughs. “I guess you had a good talk.”

  “Stop making fun of me! Can’t you see I’m upset?”

  “Ah, it doesn’t bother me. You’ll get over it.” He dismisses me with an irritating f
lick of his hand.

  “I can’t talk to you. I’m going to the basement.” I leave my bag on the table and clatter down the stairs. I turn on the stereo, take my shoes off, and turn up the volume. And to hell with my damn shirt and pants.

  Sunday

  May 20th 2012

  Confession

  He wanted to know everything. This man who shouldn’t even care about me wants to know everything.

  I just don’t understand him. He confuses me and annoys me and intrigues me and fills my stomach with butterflies like with no one else. It just doesn’t make sense. He’s probably just curious, eager to understand this creature who flares up and loses control. It probably amuses him. That’s what I am—a creature who has problems he’s never heard of.

  He hasn’t met them, my demons. He doesn’t know how mischievous and painful and terrible they can be. They can scare anyone. God knows they scare me. But they’re also so tempting. On their good days, they can be amazing. Endless celebrations, never-ending energy, and happiness that isn’t reliant on a thing. I like myself that way. I know I’m not supposed to. I know exactly what I need to do to calm them down. However, something deep inside of me misses them, misses the sleepless nights, the craziness, and the chaos. God help me. Something within me both loves and hates my demons. And now something within me both loves and hates him. It’s bad. And it’ll end badly, as usual. I already know that because I’ve been down this road before. Nevertheless, something about him attracts me, makes me want to know more, and makes me want to tell him more. Not that he’ll want to listen, not after tonight, after I ran away again. Confusing and intriguing. That’s what he is. He confuses and intrigues me.

  I spend the following week painting, blogging, and escaping to the park whenever it stops raining. I give Danny and John time to themselves and I try not bother them much, as I hide away in the basement. I even fell asleep on the couch downstairs one night. Danny was not happy.