I pulled an old, ratty teddy bear out of the bag. Her fur was tattered and she was missing one button eye. If Gwendolyn knew I still had Ms. Bear, she would’ve burned her. Gwendolyn had thrown out every doll and stuffed animal I had when I turned thirteen. She’d said they were childish. I’d managed to save Ms. Bear by hiding her under my bed when Gwendolyn wasn’t looking.
I hugged Ms. Bear to my chest.
Still weeping, and in a shaky voice, I said, “You still love me, don’t you, Ms. Bear?”
Ms. Bear stared back at me blankly with her one eyed smile.
I hugged her to my chest and sobbed silently. My body shook and spasmed with sadness.
Forty minutes later, when the gowns arrived, there was no sign left on my face that I’d been crying.
I never allowed myself to cry long enough for my face to get puffy.
Gwendolyn would never tolerate it.
Chapter 24
SAMANTHA
“Let’s crash this bash!” I cheered as me and the gang walked into Charboneau Gallery on the night of the Contemporary Artists Show.
The place was packed with people. Unlike the crowd at Christos’ solo show last year, which had been more upscale, this crowd was much younger and hipper. They had a DJ instead of a string quartet. People were talking much louder, and drinking more freely. I saw cans of Red Bull in people’s hands instead of wine glasses. It was a party vibe for sure.
Kamiko was already inside. She’d arrived early because she was one of the artists. Christos and I had picked up Romeo and met Madison and Jake on the street before coming inside.
“Let’s go find Kamiko,” Romeo said, “I want to see what cosplay character she dressed up as this time.”
“Okay,” I said as Romeo pulled me along.
Christos, Madison, and Jake strolled behind.
Despite the bomb my mom had dropped about asking my dad for a divorce, I had managed to hold myself together in the days since she’d called. Sure, my legs were still wobbly and I wanted to throw up every five minutes most days, but I was determined to enjoy myself tonight.
“This place is packed,” I said, “we’re never going to find Kamiko.”
Romeo was examining a piece of paper, “I grabbed one of the paper price sheets. It says she’s number thirty-two. She should be over there somewhere,” he pointed toward the right.
The four of us walked in that direction.
“Dude,” Christos said to Jake as we wove our way through the crowd, “you still thinking about surfing the North Shore all summer?”
“Hells yeah,” Jake smiled. “I’m dreaming about Pipeline every night.”
The two of them were right behind me and Madison. I frowned at her and whispered in her ear, “Is Jake talking about your pipeline?”
Madison cackled, “No, silly Sam. He’s talking about the reef break at Banzai Beach, in Oahu.”
“Oh,” I nodded. “I just assume when guys start throwing terms around that don’t make sense, they’re talking about sex.”
“It’s a safe assumption,” Madison grinned.
Christos asked Jake, “Are you taking Mads with you?”
Jake nodded, “Of course, I would never go to Pipeline without bringing my favorite pipeline with me.”
Christos and Jake both started chuckling. Me and Madison turned to each other and said in unison, “Men!”
Jake wrapped a muscled arm around Madison and said, “You know you love it.” He smiled his endearingly white smile, always such a brilliant contrast against his bronze skin, before kissing her cheek.
Madison leaned into him, “If you weren’t so damn cute, Jake, you would never get away with talking like a heathen.”
“Does that mean I can keep talking like a heathen?”
Madison rolled her eyes for my benefit, but I could tell she was totally in love with Jake.
Christos wrapped an arm around me.
I shot him a warning glare, “Don’t start talking about my pipeline,” I joked.
“Whose pipeline?” Romeo asked. “I’m all about the pipeline. Laying it, boring it out, plugging it up, draining it—”
“Draining it?” Jake grimaced.
“Dude,” Christos smiled, “what does that even mean?”
Romeo examined his fingernails and grinned, “You really want to know?”
“NO!” me and Madison blurted.
All the young people around us were dressed in various hipster garb or clubbing outfits. I was just waiting for the lights to dim and the neon glow sticks to come out. But it still was an art gallery. There were so many people we could barely see the paintings on the walls.
“It’s this way,” Romeo said, leading everyone. “Oh my god!”
“What?” I said, curious.
“I can’t belieeeeve it!” Romeo singsonged.
“What, what?” I couldn’t see past the people Romeo had just squeezed between.
I exchanged an excited look with Madison as we squeezed up to Romeo, who had his arms around Kamiko.
“You’re not dressed like a cartoon!” Romeo cheered while hugging Kamiko.
“Okay,” she grimaced, “don’t break me.” She may have been complaining, but she was totally giggling.
When Romeo broke the hug, I finally saw Kamiko’s outfit.
“Damn, Kamiko!” I smiled. “You look totally sexy!”
Kamiko wore a sleeveless red on black colorblock bodycon zip front dress. She stood tall on black platform sandals and her hair was down.
“Whoa,” Christos said. “Kamiko, you look hot, girl.”
Kamiko blushed.
Jake nodded approval. “Nice dress, Kamiko.”
“Does anybody want to pull her zipper down as badly as I do?” Romeo asked.
“Please don’t,” Kamiko pleaded.
“I’m kidding,” Romeo smiled. “You look amazing, Kamiko,” he said genuinely. “In no way do you resemble a cartoon character tonight. If I was straight, I would totally do you. You look fabulous.”
“Thanks,” she smiled bashfully.
Romeo gave her another big hug.
Christos grinned, “If you don’t get at least ten phone numbers from good looking guys tonight, I’d be surprised.”
“Thanks,” Kamiko rolled her eyes like the idea of her meeting a guy was about as likely as the sun suddenly exploding. She said, “I just hope I sell my painting tonight.” She stood right next to it.
Christos took a closer look. “Oh shit, is that Brandon’s face on those koi?”
Kamiko’s eyes widened and we exchanged a giggle.
“OMG,” Kamiko tittered, clearly embarrassed, “is it that obvious?”
“Maybe to me,” Christos reassured, “but I’ve known that bottom feeder for a long time.”
“Which bottom feeder?” Brandon Charboneau asked, suddenly standing next to all of us.
Whoops. I guess that catfish was finally out of the bag. Well, it was technically a koi. Whatever. Either way, I hope Brandon wasn’t offended.
“Brandon!” Christos said extravagantly, clapping him on the back, clearly trying to distract from the obvious.
“Greetings, everyone,” Brandon smiled, looking dashing. “It’s a crowded house tonight, isn’t it?”
“Totally,” Christos said loudly, trying to keep Brandon’s attention away from the painting.
Maybe if Brandon didn’t figure out he was the subject of Kamiko’s painting, he would take note of how sexy Kamiko looked in her dress instead, and finally ask her out.
“Doesn’t Kamiko look sexy in her dress?” I said to Brandon. I wasn’t above hinting.
Brandon glanced at her outfit and smiled politely, “Very stylish, Kamiko.” Then he looked at the rest of us, “Well, I’ve got to circulate.” He raised his eyebrows and smiled as he squeezed past us into the crowd.
Stupid Brandumb.
At least Kamiko didn’t seem to care. “Phew!” she whispered. “That was close!”
“What are you worried ab
out?” Romeo asked.
Kamiko glared at him, “Are you insane? If he figures out that’s him in my painting, he’ll probably ban me from selling in his gallery ever again.”
I started to say, “If he does that…”
Then, two things suddenly happened simultaneously in the next two seconds.
First, Brandon suddenly leaned back through the crowd toward us and said, “Oh, hey, Kamiko?”
And, I finished my sentence, “…then Brandon is a fucking asshole.”
Kamiko’s eyes bugged out.
Oh, fuck me backward and sideways. That foot of mine still had a mind of its own when it came to jumping in my mouth.
Romeo suddenly went into overdrive. “Uh, what Sam meant was, ahh…Brandon, you are the opposite of a fucking asshole!” Romeo’s eyes shone like he’d discovered the cure for cancer. “Yes! The complete opposite! You’re an unfucked asshole! You’re the type of asshole who’s never seen a day’s work! You’ve never been used for fucking! You’re tight as a drum! Couldn’t pass a turd the size of a vitamin pill even if you tried! ”
Note Romeo’s guilty exclamation points. They were all over the place.
Brandon arched an eyebrow.
The rest of us stood and watched in mute horror as the Loco Locomotive crashed into the side of a mountain. Oh, the calamity. At least he was trying to save my ass.
Romeo continued shoveling, “Brandon, you are the most pristine asshole the world has ever known. Fresh off the rack. Untouched, like a diamond. An asshole in the rough. Ahhh…” Romeo finally ran out of steam, looking flummoxed. “That didn’t come out quite right. Sorry.”
Brandon nodded sourly, “I get the idea.”
“What was it that you wanted?” Kamiko asked desperately, her teeth clenched in terror, doing her best to sweep the awful moment under the rug.
Brandon cleared his throat while shooting a ninja throwing star glare at Romeo and me, “I was just going to tell you, Kamiko, that a couple of buyers have already asked me about your painting. They really like it. I think we might sell it this evening.”
A long moment of silence passed between the seven of us as we all stared at the ceiling, our toes, our fingernails. Anything to avoid the social disaster surrounding us.
Brandon looked at everyone, his eyebrows raised high. “Anything else?”
I shook my head, contrite.
“I did compare him to a diamond,” Romeo whispered in my ear, as if that made up for everything.
I stomped on his foot.
Brandon turned away from the group of us.
At least Brandon had never noticed he was the koi fish in Kamiko’s painting.
Brandon turned back a second later, “Oh, one other thing.” He leveled a glare at Kamiko, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that was me on the koi in your painting.”
Thud.
Kamiko went white.
Quick, somebody prop her up before she fainted.
“Oh, Brandon,” Kamiko begged while hyper ventilating, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I mean, I, ah, oh…” She was going to pass out.
Brandon’s mouth curled into a sly smile, “Why do you think I wanted your piece in the show?”
What?
He grinned, “I’ve got a sense of humor. How uptight do you guys think I am?”
“You’re not tight at all!” Romeo said. “You’re totally loose! Diarrhea loose! Like run off from a strip mining operation!”
“Romeo!” we all shouted, except Brandon.
Brandon chuckled, “Can someone turn this guy into a painting? Because I’m sure I could build an entire show around him,” he laughed. “I’ll check in with you later, Kamiko,” Brandon smiled at her and faded into the crowd.
Wow, Brandon wasn’t half bad.
“Does anyone want a drink?” Christos asked.
“After that, I need about ten,” Jake smiled.
I turned to Kamiko, “Can I get you anything, Kamiko?”
“A MUTE button for Romeo would be nice,” she said, “or at the very least, a bag to put over my head so nobody notices me the rest of the night. I’m dying of embarrassment.”
Christos said, “Don’t worry, Kamiko. Brandon is cool. He’s not going to hold it against you.”
“What about me?” I asked. “I was the one who called him an asshole.”
“A fucking asshole,” Romeo corrected. “The kind used for putting dicks in. Frequently.”
I rolled my eyes at Romeo.
“What?” he said defensively. “You said it.”
Kamiko mimed pressing the MUTE button on a remote control, “It’s not working,” she grinned.
===
After we got drinks at the bar and brought one to Kamiko, who badly needed it, Christos and I circulated around the gallery, looking at all the cool paintings.
The Contemporary Artists Show really had an eclectic mix of art. There was graffiti influenced art, screen printed digital creations, collages combining paint and found materials, even a large piece done entirely in crayons.
“Hey,” I said, looking at the placard describing it, “it’s a crayon painting!”
On the placard, beneath the dimensions, the card listed the medium as, “Crayola 96 color box on paper.”
Christos nodded, gazing appreciatively at the piece, “This is awesome.”
It was an amazingly detailed picture of a Renaissance era palace interior. It was reminiscent of M.C. Escher, but in full color. The tiles of a black and white floor transformed into birds and fish as the floor receded into the distance, with the black bird tiles taking flight and the white fish tiles diving into a blue pond. The pond emptied into a blue stream that flowed toward the foreground of the painting, and the stream morphed into a blue runner threaded with gold as it approached the bottom of the canvas. The law of gravity was not in effect, and people walked on the ceiling and the walls, going about their business. Then I noticed all the people were animals walking on two legs. Pigs, cows, horses, chickens, geese, sheep, goats, and any kind of farm animal you could imagine. There was even a wolf with an actual red riding hood cloak making out with three girl pigs in a dark corner at the top of the painting.
“That wolf is sure getting a lot of action with those pigs,” Christos said.
“It’s a regular porky orgy,” I smiled. “Whose house do you think they’ll go back to?”
“You mean the straw, wood, or brick house?”
“I think they’ll start with the straw house and bang their way through that and the wood one, until they end up in the brick one,” Christos chuckled. “Everyone knows a brick house is mighty mighty. No amount of bed shaking can bring a brick house down.”
“Gross!” I grimaced. “Are you suggesting that wolf is going to have sex with the three little pig sluts? And instead of blowing their houses down, they’re going to, uh, fuck the houses down?”
Christos grinned, “Hey, I didn’t paint the painting.”
“You’re terrible,” I frowned. “But, what I want to know is, why is the wolf wearing a red riding hood?”
“I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “Either it’s the wolf who ate Little Red Riding Hood, or it’s a she wolf looking for some sow on bitch action.”
I grimaced. “That’s uber disgusting.”
“Again, I didn’t paint it.”
Christos and I walked to the next painting, arm in arm.
We circled the gallery, enjoying all the art and making more snappy comments about the imagery. One large painting had a crowd around it. Most of the people were talking rather than looking at the painting, so I tried to squeeze past them to get a better look at it.
“Excuse me,” I said as I slid behind some woman dressed entirely in white.
“Watch where you’re going!” she blurted.
I turned to apologize.
It was Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse.
Great. Why was she here?
She wore a white sleeveless keyhole midi dress. And I had to admit
, she looked really good in it. The dress contrasted nicely against her tan skin and golden hair. I also noticed she had glittery lip gloss that sparkled almost as much as her diamond earrings. It should’ve looked cheesy, but it was subtle, and on her, it only enhanced. Tiffany was uniquely beautiful.
“Excuse you,” she sneered, holding her champagne glass out of the way. Champagne sloshed around it.
She was also uniquely bitchy. How did such an amazing bitch get into such an amazing body?
I noticed Tiffany was tipping her glass toward me and the champagne was a millimeter from spilling over the rim and pouring on my shoulder.
“Hey, Tiff,” Christos said, catching her hand with his, stopping the champagne waterfall. “You almost spilled your drink,” he said knowingly.
Tiffany frowned at him, staring into his eyes.
Christos stared back. He still held her hand. “Don’t, Tiffany,” he said quietly.
“Let go of me,” she demanded. Christos did and she threw her drink back, swallowing it in several large gulps. “I need another drink now that the riff raff is here.” She shouldered past me, bumping into me hard.
“Hey!” I blurted.
She ignored me.
I rubbed my shoulder where she’d slammed it with her own, “What’s she doing here?” I asked Christos.
“She always comes to Brandon’s openings.”
“Fantastic,” I sighed.
“Don’t worry about her. I’ll deal with her if she gets out of hand.”
“That’s what I’m worried about. She’ll probably get out of hand just so you have to deal with her. That’s what she did on her yacht New Year’s Eve. I saw the way she was drooling over you just now.” Did I sound jealous? I hoped only a little.
“Don’t worry about her, agápi mou. I’m not going to let Tiff come between you and me.”
“Promise?”
“Promise,” Christos reassured. “Nothing will ever split us apart.”
I winced as a wave of nausea sloshed through my stomach. The word “split” made me think of my parents’ impending divorce.
Christos gave me a compassionate look. “You’re thinking about your parents, aren’t you?”
I nodded mutely.
Painless (The Story of Samantha Smith #3) Page 44
