Dr. Orgasm (A Holiday Romance Collection Book 2)

by Michelle Love

  Aullie envied the rich and famous almost as much as she loathed them, and Weston was one of the rich and famous. With his job and his heritage, it wasn’t like any of that was going to change.

  Maybe Aullie would make it as an artist, maybe they’d at least be on closer levels one day, but maybe she wouldn’t. She had always sworn to herself that she would never become dependent on a man, and she wasn’t about to be some little failed artist looped on to some rich guy’s arm. No way in hell!

  She did a pretty good job convincing herself that the beautiful other woman had nothing to do with it, too.

  ‘I’m done’, Aullie reminded herself. ‘I’m done, I’m done, I’m done’, she repeated it in her head like a mantra, each time with more and more conviction.

  She thought of a saying she loved from one of her favorite yoga teachers; breathe in the positive: success, prosperity, confidence, and forgiveness, breathe out the negative: doubt, anger, spite, and jealousy. And Weston, she tacked onto the end of the exhale, with a coy smile.

  She was going to breathe him out, she had to, and staring at his stupid painting wasn’t going to do her any favors. Aullie grabbed the painting from where it leaned against the legs of her old, wooden easel, probably not as gently as she would with another painting, and tossed it in the closet. It landed on its corner, leaning against the wall in the back under her coats.

  Take that, Aullie thought, a little triumphantly. She closed the door a little too hard, reveling in this new sense of resolve. Out with the old, with the failure and insecurity, and in with the new, success and hopefully a relationship with an honest, more realistic man.

  Someday, anyway.

  Thankfully, Aullie was able to get her shift covered at work, but Saturday found her in a manic frenzy. Gerald had forwarded her the information for the show and she had selected thirteen of the required fourteen pieces for the show and couldn’t for the life of her decide what the last one should be.

  There were so many options, and yet there were no options. She only had three hours until she was supposed to be there to set up and, even though she technically had plenty, it felt as though she had no time at all.

  ‘How am I ever going to pick?’ Aullie thought anxiously. For probably the millionth time in the last five days she considered dropping out of the show. There had to be someone out there more driven, more prepared, or just plain better to take her spot, didn’t there?

  No, Aullie clenched her fists at her sides. She was done doubting herself. Hunting around, she found her phone and found Gerald’s number. The phone rang three times before he answered with a curious, “Hello?”

  “Hey Gerald, it’s Aullie.”

  “Hey, Aullie!” he replied. “What’s up?” There were voices and bustling in the background of the call.

  “You aren’t already at the show, are you?” she asked desperation, leaking into her voice. “I was wondering if you could come over to my place and help me pick the last piece for my collection. I’m kind of losin’ it over here. I can’t decide.”

  “Yeah, I get that!” Gerald said, empathetically. “I’m already at the show, but I could stop by real quick. I’m not really needed here right now. Could you text me your address?”

  “That would be super great. Yeah, I will, thanks.” Probably overeager, she hung the phone right up and was probably texting him the address as he was saying goodbye to thin air.

  -U R close!- He typed back. -B there in 5-

  People who texted that way drove Aullie nuts, but at least she’d finally get a legitimate opinion. The five minutes dragged on, it ended up being seven, as Aullie paced and paced around the thirteen paintings she had already chosen. Nerves and doubt had her wanting to tear out her hair, but she had already done it for the show so she resisted the urge.

  When the knock came on the door, Aullie scrambled through the tiny apartment to answer it. She unlocked the door, feeling flustered, and smiled at Gerald standing on the other side. She smoothed the full skirt on her dress down with one hand and tucked her hair behind her ear with the other.

  “Hey,” she said, breathlessly.

  “Hey yourself,” Gerald remarked, a mix of impressed and surprised in his voice. “You look amazing.”

  “Wh-? Oh! Yeah,” Aullie said self-consciously, looking down at the classic, vintage-cut dress she wore. The low shoulder accentuated her pale, birdlike collar bones, the wide A-line skirt showcased her narrow waist. The black silk and dark gothic rose print looked artfully edgy with her straightened long black hair. She hadn’t put on her shoes yet and her red-painted toenails were out and free. “Thanks. Come on in.”

  “Thanks,” he said as he stepped over the threshold. He was dressed in his typical modern, nerdy-chic getup, just a bit classier; skinny-cut khaki colored trousers with striped socks and wing-tipped oxfords, a polka dotted button down and a structured navy blazer. With the thick black glasses, and the charcoal gray fedora capping his dark curls, she had to admit the look worked for him.

  Aullie led him inside, pointing to the thirteen paintings laid out on her couch, table, chairs, and counter. “So, these are the ones I picked,” then she pointed to the others that were scattered everywhere else, including the open closet. “Those are all the other ones. I haven’t been able to decide and I figured since you’re experienced and good at this stuff, that you could help me.”

  Gerald put a hand over his mouth as he stalked back and forth, surveying her choices. “I like these,” he said. “I like these a lot. What kind of mood are you trying to set here?”

  “I… I don’t know,” she admitted. “Not crippling nerves and overwhelming self-doubt?”

  Thankfully, he got the dry joke and laughed. “That’s ok, it’s totally normal for your first few shows.”

  He turned and considered the other paintings, scattered like new fallen snow, with the same scrutiny. Aullie waited impatiently as he paced. Gerald stepped carefully through the mess into the closet.

  What could he want in the closet? She thought. It wasn’t like she kept anything good in there, it was a closet.

  Oh!

  Oh no!

  He came back, fingers fatefully wrapped around the wooden frame of the painting she had kicked into the closet several days ago. Weston’s painting.

  Dammit!

  “This is sensational,” he said, genuinely. “How could you be hiding this in your closet? You have to take this, it’s so… Alive.”

  The word punched Aullie in the gut. Alive was how she had felt that night, but it didn’t matter now. “You really think I should use that one?” she asked, unsure.

  “Absolutely.” He nodded. “It’s beautiful.”

  There was a space between two paintings that fit Weston’s perfectly. Aullie had to admit that it completed her colorful collection pretty perfectly.

  It’s a sign, she told herself. A sign that she really did need to cut the cord, and put the painting up for sale.

  She took a step back, admiring the collection as a whole. Gerald was right, it was a perfect fit. She turned to thank him, but suddenly his mouth was against hers.

  Alarm bells sounded in her head, his mouth felt cold, awkward and wrong. None of the emotion, none of the passion she’d felt with Weston was present, plus the creepy, unwelcome surprise was rigid and off-putting. He practically slobbered on her, his hands locked on the sides of her head. Aullie stumbled backward, away from him, and broke from his grasp.

  “Gerald!” she yelped, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth. “What the hell was that?”

  “Aullie! I’m sorry,” he reached toward her until she batted his hands away. “I must’ve misread…”

  “Misread what?” Aullie sputtered, steaming like a boiling kettle.

  “Well you know, I hooked you up with this show, you invited me over…”

  “You only hooked me up with this show because you thought I was going to sleep with you?!” Rage coursed through her veins.

  How dare he! She shou
ld’ve known better, why else would he have been putting her up for a show outside the school like this?

  Oh, how Aullie wanted to hit him. The pig!

  “No!” he insisted. “No, no. I didn’t mean it that way at all. I’m sorry. I really am. You’re a great artist. I never meant to insinuate…”

  “Insinuate that, oh, you just hoped I’d also screw you for the help?” She could feel the hot flush in her cheeks. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she was determined not to release them.

  “I’m sorry I made you think that. I’ve liked you for a long time. I looked too far into things and I really am sorry. Do you need help getting your work to the show? Let me help, make it up to you. I’m sorry.”

  His pleading eyes begged for her forgiveness. All she saw in his pitiful little face was weakness and disgust boiled in her stomach. As surprisingly as his gesture and confession had been, they definitely weren’t feelings Aullie shared.

  Plus, all his kiss had really done was rub salt in the tender wounds Weston had left in her heart. Kissing Weston had been… unreal.

  The stark reminder that she couldn’t just find that passion with someone else was depressing and disheartening. Her silence, probably coupled with the despairing look on her face, had Gerald looking desperate.

  “I’m sorry, ok? I really am. You’re just such a good artist and you’re so pretty and…”

  “Stop,” she said, sternly. “It’s fine. I’m just kind of going through a… breakup? I guess you could call it that. I don’t know. It’s not you or your fault, it’s just that my head and heart are with someone else.”

  As she said the words, Aullie realized her heart really was still with Weston. Even though it had only been two dates, even though they were so different, even though she really hardly knew anything about the guy, she was hung up and she was hung up bad.

  She looked again at the collection she had picked, how perfectly the bright, happy colors complemented Aullie’s mostly dark and aggressive collection.

  ‘Could he be doing the same thing for me?’ She wondered despairingly. Had she shut out the man who brought light and inspiration into her otherwise bleak and angst-ridden life?

  “I understand,” Gerald said, nodding as though he truly did understand. “I’m sorry for overstepping my bounds, that was seriously uncool and I don’t think I can apologize enough.”

  “Seriously,” Aullie said, growing exasperated and irritated with his constant apologies. “It’s fine. If you could help me take these to the show, that would be great. My poor little Accord probably can’t hold all of this.”

  “Great,” Gerald finally exhaled, looking relieved that things seemed to have settled at least a little. “Do you want to take it now? We can go set it up now, so that everything’s organized and set up to your liking at the show.”

  Aullie looked at her collection again, reflecting on all the hard work she had put into each and every painting. This was her life, her love, her dream. This was the face she was about to put forward to the world, specifically to a group of snooty critics and collectors.

  They might not like what they see.

  She didn’t care. “Yes,” Aullie said, standing up straight. “Yes, I’m ready. Let’s pack ‘em up and take ‘em in.”

  Gerald carefully picked up the two biggest canvases, a beige piece with splashes of black and red and a symbolic water-inspired piece she had done in every possible shade of blue, and carried them to the door. Aullie stacked a few smaller ones in her arms and followed him to the door.

  Bruce, eager to get his chance at the outside world, hovered by the door ready to pounce. Gerald looked at her, questioningly.

  “He’s fine, he’ll come back in,” she explained.

  Gerald nodded and swung the door open wide. Bruce darted out like his tail was on fire. Aullie followed close behind him, but Gerald stopped her before she got outside.

  “Aren’t you going to put on shoes?” he asked. “It’s pretty cold out.”

  Aullie shrugged. “I don’t want to walk down the stairs in heels with my precious cargo,” she joked.

  He smiled and said, “Alright.” Then, led her down the stairs.

  The metal of the stairs was freezing against her bare feet, the chilled wind ruffled her vintage skirt. Thankfully the full skirt was long and covered most of her legs so she didn’t flash Gerald.

  She followed him around the far corner of her building to the parking lot behind the complex. He leaned her paintings gently against a silver Prius and clicked a key fob to unlock the doors.

  “Is it ok if I stack these?” he asked, opening the door to the back seat. “That’s probably going to be the only way they’ll fit. Unfortunately, my car’s not that much bigger than yours.”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” she replied. She waited as he carefully tilted both of the bulky canvases against the seat and slid them into the car. “Can you pop the trunk for me, so I can put a few in the trunk?”

  “Uh, yeah,” he replied, opening the front door and pulling the trunk release lever. “Let me just move some stuff around real quick, make sure I don’t have anything embarrassing back there.”

  Aullie pondered what embarrassing things the teacher’s assistant could be hiding in his trunk and decided she probably didn’t want to know.

  “All clear!” Gerald called out. “Bring them over here.”

  She walked around the car, handing him the stack of smaller painting’s she had brought. The cold wind chilled her bare arms and legs and she wished she had at least brought a jacket. One by one, she handed him her big, flat treasures and watched as he carefully stacked them in the mostly empty trunk. She appreciated the extra care he took in making sure they were all balanced. After all, her paintings were like her babies.

  “I could probably fit another one or two if you’d like,” he offered.

  “No, it’s fine. I’m sure I can handle the rest. I really appreciate your help, though,” she said, honestly.

  “Yeah, of course. And, again, I am so sorry about the…”

  “No,” she cut him off. “Stop. It’s fine. You’re a great guy, it’s not you, it’s me.” As the tacky breakup excuse left her lips, she could see the sadness cloud his chocolate colored eyes behind his glasses.

  Whoa, she realized then. This guy really does like me.

  Aullie wasn’t sure how to express her guilt without making it sound like pity, so she just smiled and thanked Gerald again for all his help.

  He smiled as he got into his Prius and drove away. Hoping to not be too far behind him, he did have a point she was going to have to be there early to make sure everything looked right.

  She started to really freeze and jogged up the rickety stairs to her apartment. Bruce waited for her on the landing, rubbing the door and meowing like he’d been cast out into the cold.

  “You little brat,” she said. Aullie opened the door and they both went back into the apartment.

  Grabbing a coat and slippers this time, Aullie hauled the rest of her paintings out to her car. She packed a few into the truck, a few in the middle seat, and before she realized it, she only had one painting left.

  It looked like Weston’s painting was riding shotgun, she realized, bitterly. She still wasn’t sure she even wanted to bring it, but she didn’t really have more time to come up with something else.

  She set the painting on the seat. The self-conscious part of her still recovering from her last art show flop convinced her the painting wouldn’t sell anyway, it wasn’t like she was going to lose it.

  And why did she care if she did?

  With a mix of nerves, confusion, and hurt, she made her final trip to her apartment, strapping into a pair of maroon suede high-heeled Mary Janes. She double checked her haunting, romantic charcoal eye makeup and touched up her burgundy lipstick. Aullie had to admit, she looked pretty good, and despite the drama surrounding the day and the stigma surrounding the painting, she finally felt ready.

  ‘Let’s do this’, she tho
ught as she snatched her keys off the counter.

  Time to show the world what she, Aulora frickin’ Greene, was made of.

  Even after the hour-plus she and Gerald had spent organizing her showcase, Aullie still wasn’t completely happy with the way it looked. Something was off, but the problem was, she had absolutely no idea what it was.

  “It’s fine,” Gerald had insisted about a hundred times. “That’s how every artist feels. From an outside standpoint, it looks great. Just try to relax.”

  His soothing voice had done nothing to relax her, though, and neither had the two hours that had passed since then. Or the two and a half glasses of champagne. Even with a slight buzz, Aullie felt wildly on edge.

  She cursed herself, internally as she realized she was making the same mistakes she had at the last show. Instead of standing in the corner glowering at her own work, she should be walking around, talking, meeting other artists and trying to find and charm gallery collectors.

  ‘Alright’, she decided. Drowning the last half of her glass of champagne, she rolled her shoulders back and drummed up the courage and confidence to do what she needed to do.

  Social anxiety and introverted nature be damned, she wasn’t about to let another opportunity slip through her fingers. This was her life, her passion, and she needed to be ready to make it happen.

  Aullie placed her empty flute on a passing tray and grabbed a fresh one. She smiled a genuine smile at the poor, tray-toting waiter. I know how you feel, she wanted to tell him. She did know how he probably felt; so much running and work for so little money, so little respect, that feeling of disdained invisibility. She felt almost guilty about the surge of motivation the exchange had given her, she was one hundred and ten percent ready to be done with serving forever and her first stepping stone was right under feet.

  As she wandered through the exhibits, she felt the knots in her stomach begin to unwind. There really were some talented artists there. It must have been a real honor to be chosen to show alongside them.