by LS Anders
She may not be strong enough to deal with his high-profile life, and some bullshit photo on a tabloid could send her into another tail spin. If that happened, he could find himself back to being blocked until she came around. He didn't think he could go through that again.
Heat bloomed on his cheeks as he thought back to the recent conversation he'd had with his mom. She hadn't mentioned the broadcast, but she had emphasized that if he needed to talk she was there for him. He had diverted the conversation to other topics but his face had remained inflamed for an entire day after that.
Fuck! His mom had seen a picture of him getting his freak on. He’d take a million strangers’ eyes on that photo before he would one pair of maternal ones. He hadn't had the courage to talk about all that had happened and couldn't bring himself to discuss Callie with her. The pain was still too fresh.
He hunkered down, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck as the frigid wind picked up, lifting the ends of his hair. He had nixed his usual driver in favor of a brisk walk from his place to Exotic Ink in hopes he could work out some of the anxiety he was feeling about seeing Callie again and how their first meeting would play out since everything had happened.
Making his way to the gated private courtyard behind Evana's building to access the freight elevator up to the renovated photography studio on the third floor, he was still bristling over the fact that Tegan had waited until the last second to inform him that he wouldn't be photographing his client, Janet. She'd had a family emergency and had to cancel, but he had lined up Lizbeth to take her place.
Well, Lizbeth was Callie's client. Which meant there was a chance he would have to talk to Callie to discuss the shoot and get her input on how she wanted her work to be featured. He knew she was at work that day and prayed she would be too busy and wouldn't have an opportunity to talk.
Reaching the gate, he punched in the code. He heard the familiar click of the latch disengaging and... it wouldn't budge.
“Fucking Tegan!” he cursed the padlock that had never existed before now. That fucker had been pushing him to talk to her and hadn't let up.
He knew Tegan had done this purposely, to force him around to the front entrance where he would have to walk through the studio and past Callie's work space.
Fuck him, but his balls weren't big enough today to chance running into her!
He wasn't about to try and mind fuck himself into thinking he would walk in and she would come running towards him with her arms held wide, then he would spin her around and all would automatically right itself.
He knew if he met up with her it would be strained at best and uncomfortable for both of them. That was why he was sneaking in through the back of the shop.
Making his way around to the front entrance, he gulped back a few fortifying breaths, willing his heart to stop pummeling his sternum. He swung open the door to Exotic Ink, gave Avie a quick wave and practically ran down the hall… well, more like power-walked. Amazing how one woman could make his insides feel like they were in a blender on the highest setting.
He could have sworn he heard Tegan snicker as he zipped by his space. That fucker would be getting his! On his dreaded trip to the front entrance, he had already thought of a few ideas that involved a sleeping Tegan and a bucket of ice water at 3 a.m.
“Vehn?”
The hesitation in her voice brought him to an abrupt stop. He didn't like the sound of it, as if she were afraid to talk to him. He turned around slowly, trying to brace himself for the onslaught of emotions he could already feel welling up inside.
“How have you been?” Callie's eyes touched his then moved quickly away. “I, uh... I read your letter.”
All he could manage to do was nod his damn head and stare at his shoes. He knew she deserved more from him, but he just couldn't seem to string any words together, and making eye contact was out of the question.
“I need to go,” he said, before running away like a scared little bitch.
He heard her suck back a sob that sent a jolt stopping his heart. He couldn't even look at her, he was so fucked up over what she did to his emotions.
He knew it was a total dick move, but he had no idea what to say, what to think, or what to do. He was still so confused over her reactions about the Regina incident, he just didn't know how to take her or what to do with her. Part of him wanted her to let him go, and another part of him wanted her to grab him and pull him back to her.
Reaching the access door to the elevator, he practically ripped the thing off the hinges as if the hounds of hell were on his heels trying to get away from any kind of potential conversation with her. Thank fuck the elevator car was already there waiting for him. He slammed closed the old accordion-style metal gate and pushed the number 3 button for what must have been a hundred times before the elevator finally got moving.
Once there, he couldn't help but notice how badly his hand shook as he tried fishing the key to the studio out of his front pocket, and he wasn't having any better luck getting the key in the stupid door lock.
He just needed to talk to her and find out what the hell was up, and get it over with. Just rip the Band-Aid off and stop this insane suffering of unknown possibilities, and find out where he stood.
Besides, he already had an agreement with Evana to be Exotic Ink’s personal photographer, and he wasn't about to back out of that, but he couldn't keep avoiding Callie and couldn't postpone the inevitable forever. He would eventually have to talk to her. Just not today.
Setting up for the shoot and checking his cameras, he silently prayed Callie wouldn't want to discuss anything about her client or the shoot. Most of the time, he would have liked to get input from the artist, but not today, and not from that artist.
The noisy elevator caught his attention. He listened to the car make its way down and then up again, and prayed the entire time that it wasn't Callie headed his way. He just wasn't ready to deal with her yet.
The door was gently pushed open and a tall slender blonde popped her head in.
“Callie said to come on up. Am I early?” Not giving him time to answer, she continued to prattle on. “Hey, I'm Lizbeth, and you're Vehn Mathieu. I would recognize you anywhere. Wow, except I think you're even better looking in person, if that's even possible. I don't mean to fangirl you to death, but I just love your work. I think you're the most gorgeous male model on the planet. So, where do you want me?”
Vehn took a moment to regroup after all that chatter. “Um... thanks. I appreciate the compliment. You can change in the room over there so I can get a look at the tattoo we'll be shooting today.”
“Ok, great. All the tattoos I have are Callie's work. She's awesome. I'm so excited to be a model for her and have my picture hanging on the wall in the shop.”
Lizbeth didn't miss a beat, happily chattering away even after she'd shut herself in the changing room. She didn't seem nervous at all being around him, like so many other people were around celebrities. She actually reminded him of Callie when he had first met her at the Halloween party, only intensely hyped up.
A wave of sadness hit him hard in the region of his heart. Oh my God, he missed Callie. He couldn’t figure out why he kept picking girls that didn't want him back.
Before he could sink too deep into his own self-pity, Lizbeth walked over and presented her leg piece for inspection. It really was a beautiful piece, and he couldn't help the swell of pride that his Callie had designed and permanently inked this gorgeous artwork on this lovely lady.
Well, not his Callie. Not anymore.
“Let's see, Lizbeth. Pose this way first, and let's get an idea of the lighting.” After testing the light and arranging the reflectors, he demonstrated some poses he wanted her to try.
Lizbeth had quickly gotten over the fact that she was being photographed by a male supermodel and continued to chat away like she would to anyone else. It was a breath of fresh air to have someone talk to him like that again.
But sadly, this had to have been one
of the worst shoots he'd ever done, and no fault of the model's. Lizbeth was doing great; he was the freaking problem. Unshed tears were blurring his vision, and he couldn't tell exactly where the model was in the frame.
All he could do was pray for a few good shots and hope that Callie didn't think he had purposely screwed up her shoot out of spite. Surely, she wouldn't think him capable of that, but she had already thought poorly of him, believing Regina's lies and thinking him a liar and a cheater.
Even still, his heart bled to be with her, and not knowing for sure what was going on inside her head was driving him crazy. Hell, he barely knew what was going on inside his own head.
The cluster of a shoot finally came to a bloody end, and he thanked and escorted Lizbeth back down in the elevator and said goodbye once they reached the ground level. She went back through the shop to talk to Callie, and Vehn bolted out the back door into the courtyard.
Tegan had damn well better have removed that padlock or he was going to rip it off with his bare fucking hands.
He had never felt so raw in his damn life! During those small number of blissfully happy days they had shared together, Callie had told him about the design and how excited she had been to get started on it. Knowing she had executed it around the time of their break-up somehow made it more difficult to be around, as if the tattoo had marked the end of that chapter in their lives.
Plus, he was so tense from worrying over Callie showing up during the shoot, his muscles had begun to ache. He was thankful Lizbeth had carried the entire conversation, but felt bad that he couldn't recall anything she had said because he had been so tuned into listening for any signs that the elevator was being put to use.
Breathing a sigh of relief that the padlock had been removed, he practically ran all the way to his condo, planning in his head how he could expedite getting his hands on and cracking open a fresh bottle of Bourbon.
Callie yawned so wide her jaw cracked, triggering a smart-ass remark from Dylan.
“Damn, old lady! Careful walking over here. I wouldn't want you to break a hip getting to the coffee maker.”
“Kiss my ass right dead in the crack, Dylan,” Callie remarked, padding her way over to the kitchen where her friend was preparing breakfast. “And how are you even awake?'
“I dunno, I guess I'm just hyped up over tonight's festivities.”
Callie poured herself a cup of coffee, stopping a moment to watch her friend push the lever down on the toaster.
Thanksgiving had come and gone, and so had Dylan. But, Callie's best friend was back now, having arrived in the wee hours of the morning so she could attend Avie's bachelorette party that evening.
Time had passed by excruciatingly slow while Callie went about her days, living but not really living, and so numb she might as well be dead on the inside.
Dylan and Arin had become quite good friends during Dylan's visit back in November. Since then, Arin had even flown out to Chicago to check out Dylan's bar, Wicked Brews. Callie had no idea why Arin had such a fascination with micro-brewed beer, but whatever. Callie was glad Dylan had made a new friend, and Arin did seem to be a sweet person.
Callie had discovered from Dylan that Arin was an event planner here in the city, and couldn’t believe she hadn’t even been aware of that fact. Sheesh, she was beginning to feel like she had been wandering around aimlessly with her head up her ass ever since she had met Ve—
Nope! Not gonna even think his name! Callie silently schooled herself.
She hadn’t seen him since that gut-wrenching day when Lizbeth had her tattoo photographed. It had only been 5 days, but she hoped she didn't run into him again any time soon. She didn't think her shattered heart could handle any more rejection.
Their break-up was all her fault, and she had wanted to tell him that day that she had been wrong to not have believed him, but he had turned his back on her so fast that he hadn't given her time to explain anything.
Just as she had suspected, a massive amount of therapy was going to be required to get through this new tragedy in her life. So far, she only had two sessions with Dr. Z under her belt, and both of those had mainly consisted of her crying her eyes out, so not much progress happening yet. And her self-help of naming off positive thoughts hadn’t helped in the least.
“Good Lord, Callie! I gave that to you as a gag gift, like, 8 years ago. I didn’t think you actually still had it.”
“What?”
“That coffee cup.” Dylan motioned with the toast she was buttering towards the cup cradled in Callie’s hands.
“Oh… yeah. I'd forgotten where I'd gotten this from.” Callie hadn’t even realized she had grabbed it out of the cabinet and was using Vehn's favored Monday-hating mug.
“Let's eat,” Dylan said, placing two plates of food on the dining room table.
A flood of memories rushed over Callie as she relived the happy memories she and Vehn had made the weekend spent in her condo. Those fragile feelings of budding love seemed so fresh as her mind wandered down that path to him, yet seemed like a lifetime ago.
Then Regina had tainted their pristine new love, contaminated it with her accusations, and Callie had no clue how to begin sorting the lies from the truth.
Thankfully, that lawyer of Vehn’s had put the lid on the media like he said he would, but it would be a long process before the case was resolved. The justice system always worked on their own sluggish schedule, but at least the press had been silenced.
Dylan must have caught her lost look and walked back into the kitchen brushing away her tears that she hadn’t realized she'd been shedding.
“Please don’t cry, Callie. My sweet girl, I can't imagine what you're going through,” Dylan sympathized, pulling her into a tight hug. When she finally pulled away, Dylan had plastered a huge smile on her face in an attempt to cheer her up. “Look, we have all day to hang out, and tonight we get to go crazy all over the hot meat at the review.”
“Hot meat?”
“Hey, at least I got you to laugh and your tears have stopped, too. So let's eat breakfast, get dressed, and go do something fun.” Dylan placed both hands on Callie's shoulders, gently toggling her back and forth. “Besides, you gotta tell me all about the new guy. What was his name again?”
“Gabriel,” Callie answered, taking a seat at the table. “He's only been there a couple of days. How did you already know about him?”
“Avie told Arin all about him. So, what's the scoop?”
“He seems nice enough. I haven't really had a chance to talk to him much. Like I said, he hasn't been there very long.”
“Maybe we could stop by Exotic Ink so I can get a look at him. Arin said that Avie said he's a hottie!” Dylan wagged her eyebrows suggestively.
“Dylan, I am not taking you by the studio so you can scope out your next conquest,” Callie huffed. “Besides, he's got a baby face with piercings and a Mohawk, so he's not really your type. I can see why Avie would think he's hot, though. He kind of reminds me of Cale.”
“You're so mean to me, Callie,” Dylan complained, biting into her toast. “Besides, if he has a dick, he's my type.”
* * *
“So, what about Cale?”
“Oh, he's not really into half-naked men.” Avie dismissed Dylan's inquiry with a wave of her hand.
“No, I meant, does he mind that you’re here?” Dylan laughed.
“Nope. And only because I know his bestie has hired multiple strippers for his party. Fair is fair.”
Avie squealed as their table came into view, pulling her maid of honor in for a tight hug. Clearly, Arin had some serious skills when it came to planning events. She had gone the extra mile to make that table special for her friend and must have had some pull with the club to have been allowed in before they opened to decorate.
It was tricked out in full-on bridal splendor. Kind of as if a wedding dress had been deconstructed and regurgitated all over the place. It was beautiful in all its gaudy glitz. Upon closer inspection, the
sparkling confetti sprinkles reflecting the club lights like tiny multi-faceted diamonds were in the shape of... little penises!
The girls exchanged excited looks and rushed to find their seats as the lights began to dim. A sexy tune oozed out of the surround sound, causing the crowd of women around them to shout their applause as the show began.
Overhead lights slowly came up to reveal a group of broad-shouldered men that began to move in unison to a seductively choreographed routine. Multi-colored lights played across the stage while they started to shed various articles of clothing.
When the tell-tale sound of Velcro from the men’s pants filtered above the music, many of the women around them jumped to their feet, rushing the stage. The strategically placed bouncers gently pushed back the gathering crowd.
As soon as Dylan had placed her drink order with the shirtless tuxedo-clad waiter, she wasted no time digging out a handful of bills and making her way to the stage when a smoldering cowboy sauntered out and began the first solo routine of the evening.
Callie watched from her seat, shaking her head as her friend was scolded by one of the bouncers for nearly pulling the cowboy off the stage when he flirtatiously dropped to his knees and tore his shirt in half directly in front of Dylan's face.
The look of surprise on his handsome face told that he obviously had no idea whom he was dealing with when Dylan had latched onto his upper torso, nearly dragging him off the stage. That girl was not one to play around when she saw something she liked.
“What a waste of a perfectly good piece of meat,” Dylan scoffed, returning to the table with a sour look on her face. “It’s like putting ketchup on tenderloin!”
“Are you sure the guys are all gay?” Evana asked, not taking her eyes off the black leather chaps thrusting in her direction.
The girls had all lost some of their enthusiasm over the male review after discussing the assumed sexual preference of most male strippers in the limo on the way there. To Callie's surprise, out of all the girls, Evana had taken it the hardest and looked crestfallen at the news.
