Reality's Illusion

by Stephie Walls

No sooner was I leaving after talking to Aaron than I felt like we were back at Le Musée, arriving much earlier than I had last night. There was a crowd waiting outside. The man at the door recognized me and pulled me through the swarm of people all dressed to the nines. Women grabbed at my tux, my hands, trying to pull me to them. That one guy suddenly turned into two that flanked my sides with Nate taking up the rear, surrounding me. The security effectively blocked me off from a rabid crowd. I was disoriented in the best possible way, but Aaron wasn’t amused and apologized more than once.

  “What’s to apologize for, Aaron?” I felt like a damn rock star. Even if I didn’t sell a thing this weekend, that hundred-foot walk up the sidewalk had made me feel like a million bucks.

  He dismissed the men who’d escorted me inside. “I should have been better prepared. There are a lot of women out there hoping to meet you, not because they’re art fanatics, but because they’re single.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  Nate chuckled to himself and shook his head. “You’re wasting your breath, Aaron. Bastian has never seen it and never will. Women can lick the sweat off his arm and he assumes they’re thirsty. He’s only had eyes for one woman, well, two now, but he truly is oblivious to his appeal.”

  I gave him a cross look, and he shrugged.

  Even I knew the smile on my lips was cheesy and over the top. “I won’t lie, Aaron. That felt pretty freaking good. I’m an artist, not an MMA fighter. Women don’t flock to me.”

  “There was a huge write-up on you and Ferry in the paper this morning and a blip on the news last night. Not only were both of your pictures shown, but the reporters also kindly announced you’re both single and your estimated net worth.”

  “My what?” I laughed. I had no worth. “My net worth? They told all these women I’m broke?”

  Nate smacked me upside the back of the head. “Bastian has no clue what his financial situation is. Ignore his stupidity.”

  “What the fuck, man?” I laughed because he was right.

  Nate had always taken care of mine and Sylvie’s finances. He was into wealth management; I figured it was better to let him do what he was good at—and I trusted him. “I have financial worth?”

  “You two are a mess. If the news reports are correct, yes, you have substantial worth, as do your paintings. Sadly, none are remaining for sale for the public, but they’ll get to see what you brought.”

  “Seriously?” I wasn’t sure who was more shocked, Nate or me.

  “Sold out last night. I thought Ferry had told you. It happened before he left. He asked continuously about sales; I assumed he was sharing the information with you.”

  Ferry hadn’t shared shit, and I found it odd that he’d cared at all about sales. He’d never had to worry about selling a piece in his life. If he put it for sale, he could name the price, and it was gone.

  “I’m blown away. Completely. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to selling out a show.”

  Aaron clasped his hands in front of him. “I can sell anything you’re ready to let go.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “He’s got a ton of paintings at home. Do you ever do any type of online sales event?”

  Aaron’s mouth turned down, and he regarded Nate with serious consideration. “I haven’t in the past, but I would certainly be open to giving it a shot. As hot as Bastian is, people don’t seem to care about seeing things in person. They just want the work.”

  Nate clapped Aaron on the shoulder, and I wondered if either of them remembered I was standing here. “Great. I’ll get you some shots and give you my contact information. Let’s see what we can get working. Might be a great way for you to give people here tonight an option to get one of his paintings. It would bring a lot of traffic to your website as well.”

  They talked as if Nate was my manager or my pimp.

  “Let’s talk more later. We’ll absolutely move forward with this if Bastian’s in agreement.”

  I shrugged, happy to finally be brought into the conversation. I didn’t care if they wanted to pimp me like a cheap street hooker. Marketing had never been my strong suit, so if someone else wanted to do the work, I didn’t mind paying a commission.

  The crowd got loud again, alerting us to Ferry’s arrival. Thank God he was on time tonight. Aaron might have had a complete meltdown if he’d been forced to deal with Ferry’s inconsiderate ass two nights in a row. Once Ferry was inside, Aaron gave us a couple minutes to get a glass of wine, mentally preparing for the onslaught of single women decked out in their finest, trying to land a man.

  As the flock flew in, I realized I had no idea how Sera was getting here, or if she was even coming. “Any idea how Sera’s getting here tonight?”

  Nate shook his head. “None.”

  He also didn’t leave my side, hanging on like my co-pilot. He knew I didn’t have a clue what to do with women flirting. If they had a genuine interest in art, I’d be able to talk to them all night, but those were few and far between in this crowd. I welcomed the men as a distraction from the flirtatious group, attempting to draw them into longer conversations.

  A fantastic couple flew in from a little town outside Paris. They had intended to be here last night, but with travel issues, they were unable to make it. Serious collectors. I was astounded to learn they’d purchased Black Clutch by phone moments after the show had opened last night, and they were just now seeing it.

  The woman squatted in the most feminine fashion I’d ever seen, ignoring her husband and myself. I carried on a conversation with the man while watching the woman get lost in her new art. Touching the painting was highly frowned upon; however, she owned it and could do whatever she wanted. I didn’t tell her the oil on her fingers would eat away at the paints, and instead, I just focused on how she appraised and appreciated my work.

  She traced the shapes of the dress, working her way up the folds of the oil-painting fabric. Reaching the clutch, she stopped on the buckle. Turning to her husband with tears in her eyes, she cried, “Felipe, regardez Le Pont de L’amant à Paris.” She pointed to the squares that formed the clasp on the clutch.

  Taking note of what she saw, he regarded me. “We got engaged on that bridge so many years ago.” His English was flawless, and I loved his Parisian accent. “I can not believe she found that image among the thousands on the portrait. It is perfect for us and our collection.”

  “I’m glad. Nothing thrills me more than a piece of my art touching someone else’s life. Black Clutch seems to belong to your wife.” I meant every word of that. It was the reason I painted, to connect people with art that touched their core, their very soul.

  The room stopped moving or maybe just my world did, and I knew the instant Sera arrived. Her laughter called my attention away from Felipe and his wife, and I excused myself to find her. By the door, she talked to Aaron, enchanting him as she did everyone else. It never ceased to amaze me how elegant she was in these settings and how casual she was in any other, both making her exactly who she was.

  “Aaron, I see you’ve met Sera.” Taking her hand, I kissed the top before she brought me in, kissing each cheek.

  “Sunshine.” Her voice was as warm as the rays of light she called me by.

  I beckoned for her to twirl by raising her hand. Stunning. She was never anything ostentatious—always understated elegance.

  “I’m so glad you could make it. I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

  She rolled her eyes just enough to illustrate her point but not enough to appear childish. “Nate’s so dramatic. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’m so proud of you, Bastian.” And then she squeezed my hand.

  My irritation over her behavior dissolved with the slightest smell of her subtle perfume. With the soft smile and the way she called me Sunshine, the moment she spoke, I was captivated. I wished she felt the same.

  With her arm in mine, I escorted her to meet the few people I’d gotten to know in the last couple of days. Her movements w
ere slower than usual, but she played it off as gazing at the art. Although there was literally nothing new for her to see. She’d picked every one of my pieces that hung in this gallery. I couldn’t prove it and certainly wouldn’t ask right now, but by the way she moved and the dress she’d chosen, she hid something. The gown was stunning, yet it covered everything but her shoulders.

  She winced when she took a long stride. It was brief, so much so that I almost missed it.

  I stopped to catch her and give her a moment to steady herself. “Sera?”

  “I’m fine, Bastian. This is your night. Let’s enjoy it.” End of discussion.

  Bringing it up again would only erupt in an argument that we’d had more than once and that never changed. I didn’t want Sera running off in an unfamiliar city with no one to turn to. I acknowledged to myself that never calling her ass out on this didn’t help the situation; it had only enabled it. I was going to have to take my balls back from her at some point and nail her ass to the wall. Then, I’d beat the shit out of whoever had the gall to lay a hand on a woman. I couldn’t sit idly anymore. I cared too much about her to allow it to continue. This attack had to have been really bad for her to still feel the residual effects several days later, but I let it go for tonight.

  “Oh, I almost forgot to ask since I haven’t seen you in a couple of days. Markus Finstin is opening at The West End the week after next. Do you want to go? It’s black tie, but I’m sure you can get away with your funky Chucks. Tara won’t boot you out at the door.” Her smile melted my soul and dissolved a bit of my anger.

  I could never say no, not to Sera.

  “Seriously? How did Tara nail him? He’s huge these days. Have you seen his work?” The guy worked solely with recycled materials, also known as trash.

  She shrugged. “No clue. I thought he was international; you know she can lure the most elite. So what do you say? Dinner and art? Perfect night in my book.”

  “Of course. I can’t wait.”

  Out of nowhere, Ferry grabbed my arm, turning me to him and rudely dismissing Sera. “Do you have a minute, Bastian?”

  Turning back to her, I apologized while excusing myself. Whatever had Ferry’s snit in a snag had better be good.

  He bent his knees to make sure we were eye level and probably to make certain I saw the threat in his glare. “Why do you refuse to listen to me?”

  “About what?”

  What in the actual hell was he thinking?

  “Her. I keep telling you she’s bad for your image, but you don’t seem to want to listen. There’s press here as there was last night. You need to keep in mind who they see you with and what will be portrayed in papers or on news feeds.”

  My smart-ass mouth took a front seat, sick of his attitude. “Oh, so it would be better for the world to think Nate and I are gay? I should stick to him like glue, right? Or maybe I should show up a couple hours late to an opening and immolate you?” I couldn’t believe he’d do this here. Now. With tons of people as witnesses.

  “Why do you have to stick to anyone, just mingle. Enjoy the people here.” He ignored my comment about him.

  “Look, Ferry, I don’t know what your problem is with Sera, and I really don’t care. I’m not dating her or anyone else for that matter. The press will spin whatever web they decide to tell. I would be thrilled if they portrayed me as heterosexual, regardless of the woman, but I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be proud if it were Sera. She’s a friend. You need to lighten up.”

  As I turned to leave, he grabbed my arm with more force than I was willing to tolerate. I might come across as mild-mannered, but the fact was, I was a pretty big guy. Nate and I had gone more rounds than I could count over the years, and I had always held my own.

  Our conversation must’ve been a tad more public than I’d realized. Sera had heard every word. When I reached her side, tears streamed down her face. She blotted at them, trying to keep from destroying her makeup, but every one she caught caused three more to fall. The handkerchief I handed her from my pocket didn’t do much better at hiding her emotions.

  Unaware, or simply not caring about who was around, I took her face into my hands, looking at her features and studying her eyes. My thumbs wiped away a few straggling tears before I kissed her forehead and brought her into my chest. Cameras flashed around me, and I was sure the press had caught the moment on film. With my arms still around her, and doing my best to hide her from the reporters, I walked her to the bathroom to freshen up.

  I caught Ferry watching me. It took everything I had to keep myself from giving him the middle-finger salute, but with press around, I didn’t need to stir up any more than I already had.

  Nate had witnessed the exchange as well, which meant surely there was a member of the press lurking that had caught it word for word to print tomorrow.

  “You realize you have a twelve-hour car ride with him, right? Probably not the best idea to piss off the driver.” Nate didn’t need to remind me of shit.

  One great thing about having sold out an exhibit. I didn’t have any art to carry home. “Like hell. I’ll get Aaron to book me a flight. I don’t really have anything other than luggage to take back anyhow.”

  “I hope you haven’t just made an enemy of someone who might destroy you after he helped make you.”

  “Seriously, Nate? He photographed my work; he didn’t hold my hand while I painted. I’m doing fine on my own. What the hell should I’ve done? I wouldn’t let him talk shit about you, and I’m not going to let him do it about Sera.”

  Nate was beside himself, but not for Sera. He was concerned about me, my reputation. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine what his issue with her would be, but he’s got a big mouth and can make big waves. You’re going to need to figure out how to ride them instead of being consumed by them.”

  I didn’t bother responding to that horseshit. “Look, do me a favor and keep an eye on Sera for the rest of the night. Don’t let him get to her, please?”

  “You owe me big time for this entire trip, Bastian. I don’t play babysitter to women I’m taking home to fuck, much less those I never intend to see naked.”

  20

  Chapter Twenty

  Aaron’s staff had managed to book me a flight out, thereby avoiding Ferry. I’d end up seeing him around town, but hopefully, things would have cooled off by then and we could be civil. We certainly wouldn’t ever travel or work together again, but if we could manage to be amiable if we crossed paths, that would be great. The art community was tightly knit, so neither one of us needed any more negative publicity than the press was already going to spin coming out of this trip. It had been a profitable venture for us both. I never kept tabs on the sales, but knowing I’d sold everything I’d taken, I’d done well.

  The trip home was awkward. Sera was unusually quiet, barely making eye contact with either Nate nor me. I wasn’t sure what had happened between her and Nate last night, but both of them effectively ignored the other, using me as the middleman. Last time I’d checked, we were all adults, but today they both needed a fucking timeout. Being between two people with no interest in speaking to one another was a royal pain in the ass and childish as hell. Add a lack of sleep and some pretty fucked-up situations in the last couple of days, and I just wasn’t up for dealing with their shit.

  “Why don’t you take my seat next to Nate?”

  Aaron had managed to get me on the same flight with Sera and Nate but not a seat next to theirs. She didn’t need to be flying alone, even if we were on the same plane. I didn’t like the idea of her sitting by herself.

  “I’ll take Bastian’s seat, you two sit together.” Nate was forever the gentleman if I set aside his surly tone.

  She looked away, responding to thin air. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Seriously, you two, this is asinine. What the hell happened over the last couple of days that you aren’t even on speaking terms and won’t sit next to each other on a plane but are fine with sitting next to s
trangers?”

  Neither answered me; both just glared at the other.

  “Okay, let’s try a different approach.” This was fucking stupid. We were sitting in an airport terminal with them acting like children and me being the rational adult. “Sera, you know, Nate freaked out when you left the hotel and essentially disappeared. I appreciate you’re an adult, free to do what you want, but common courtesy is to tell your roomie if you’re returning or not. Why don’t you apologize to Nate for being inconsiderate and let’s move on.”

  “Inconsiderate? Are you kidding me? I don’t answer to Nate or you for that matter. I went out. Big freaking deal. I’m single and in my twenties. If I want to stay out all night, I can.”

  Nate was fiercely protective but couldn’t stand ignorance. “Yes, inconsiderate. We’re in a strange city where people are mugged and raped daily. All you had to do was say you were meeting someone or going out with a friend. Anything would have been better than disappearing from a goddamn bar with some rank stranger.”

  “Grow up, Nate. I’m not the innocent little wallflower you think I am. I can handle myself in a big city.”

  “Oh, just not at home?” He snapped back at her.

  Their voices were getting louder with each exchange. I probably should have tried to stop it, but in my estimation, this was the only way either of them was going to let it go—to get it out.

  She sat up straight in her seat, staring him down, daring him to continue—Nate was never one to back down from a challenge. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “Lift up your sleeves, and I’ll show you.”

  Further confirming what I’d assumed last night when she was walking so gingerly, I discerned that Sera was hurt, and he’d seen the evidence for himself. He’d taken it too far.

  “Nate,” I growled, warning him to shut up. I’d never divulged any information to him, but he’d have to be a fool to miss the signs of abuse covering her body. No one was that clumsy.

  Sera directed her attention to me. “Have you been feeding Nate bullshit you think you know something about?”