by JA Low
When we get home Emily goes straight to her room to take a bath, exhausted from our bike ride, but me, I feel kind of exhilarated. After a shower, I head down to my studio, the devastation hits me again. Fuck. What have I done? I start bit by bit cleaning up the studio, it takes me hours until it’s at least back to normal. A pile of rubbish sits outside of the studio, I look around at the bare bones of the room and in some weird way it feels kind of cathartic. The sunshine lips taking pride of place in the middle of the studio. The sunshine set amongst the darkness of my other paintings, the ones I hadn’t fully destroyed.
It’s late by the time I leave my sanctuary and slowly make my way through the gardens toward my home in the darkness. I take a moment to look up and see that it’s a full moon, the silvery ball set amongst the black sky, tiny bubbles of inspiration pop beneath my skin as I continue walking with the light guiding me. I notice the balcony doors to Emily’s room are open, I catch movement behind them. I stop and look up. She walks out onto the balcony, her golden hair falling over her creamy shoulders, she’s dressed in a thin black singlet. She looks so young, much younger than I think she is.
“No!” She raises her voice; she has her phone to her ear. “I haven’t slept with him. It was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything, he was drunk.” I think she’s talking about me. “He’s my boss.” Yeah she’s talking about me. I know I was drunk when I kissed her but it just meant that my inhibitions were lowered, that the control I have around her wasn’t as strong. At night I can’t forget about the kiss but during the days I have too. It’s not right. Especially after today, we are in a better place. I know I shouldn't be eavesdropping, I’ve done enough shit to hurt her since she’s started but she is talking loudly and I’m just walking back to my room, not really my fault that I can hear her or that I’m walking slowly. “Yes, I know he’s hot.” She’s only human. “Yes. I know the kiss was amazing.” Amazing, huh? Good to know. I thought it was pretty amazing myself. “But I’m not interested, Rosie.” Oh, that’s a shot to my ego. “I need this job, you know that.” That’s right, the dickhead ex who thought she wasn’t good enough to date, what a fucking fool. Emily is amazing, how could you not want a ray of sunshine like her in your life? Good question, Louis? You haven’t exactly been appreciative to her sunny ways since she started over a month ago. No but today is a fresh start, we shook on it. “Rosie, I have a job to do and that does not include doing Louis Marchant.” Well it could if she wanted to. No. She’s right. I’m her boss. “Yes, he messaged me. Can you believe that?” Who’s she talking about? Who messaged her? “All because he saw the photo of Louis and I.” Oh, she must mean her ex. What an idiot. I bet he is realising what he’s missing now. I knew he’d be watching her. That little prick thinks he can fuck around on her and then once he’s finished playing the field he can come back to her. You’re too late, someone is going to come along and take her away. You should have appreciated her sooner. “Of course I ignored it.” That makes me feel better. “I know I’m proud of myself too.” I can hear the pride in her voice. “I miss you guys too.” I hear the sadness in her voice. “Say hi to Ava and Georgia too. When I get back we are going to go crazy.” This makes me smile hearing her enthusiasm. “I better go, I’m shattered.” Whatever her friend says on the phone makes her laugh and I like hearing it, I need to remind myself to make her laugh more. She says her goodbyes and holds her phone in her hand. Emily looks out across the dark horizon. Can she see me here? I hope not, I would look like a bit of a creep if she did. She lets out a sigh and goes back inside, locking her door, the light switches off moments later and I can move from my spot.
It doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep tonight, I’m exhausted and not because I’ve been partying since the day before or because I’ve had way too much tequila. I’m actually physically exhausted from riding a bike around the countryside.
A girl with golden spun hair runs through lavender fields, laughing, looking carefree. I catch her hand, spinning her around, before she falls into my arms. Emerald green eyes, rose pink lips, that are ready for me, begging me, calling me to kiss her. I oblige, they taste like sunshine, the scent of roses tickles my nose.
I wake with a start from my dream. My mind full of colour, images, my hand itching to get the images down onto the canvas. I jump out of my bed and rush toward my studio before my inspiration fades.
15
Emily
“Morning, Gabriel.” I make my way into the kitchen, my legs aching, they feel like jelly, and my butt hurts. I think I need one of those haemorrhoid donuts, to help me sit down on. I don’t think I have ever in my life worked out that much. I should probably start, because I’m walking around like an eighty-year-old woman.
“Morning.” He smiles at me handing over a croissant and a freshly squeezed juice.
“Is he up?” I ask about our boss. He nods.
“He’s been in the studio all morning.” My eyes widen. Gabriel smiles wider. “I think yesterday inspired him.” Really? “He’s probably hungry,” he tells me, handing me a croissant wrapped in a napkin. “Go, take it to him.”
“Um.”
“I have his coffee as well.” I shake my head.
“I have a lid for it.” Gabriel hands over the secure travelling mug. I guess I’m going to have to take it to him. He practically pushes me out of the kitchen. I wonder what Louis is doing down there? I hope he’s not drinking, yesterday was great, seeing him so carefree suited him. But I’m naive to think one day in the sunshine could change him.
There’s a pile of rubbish to one side of the studio, it’s filled with destroyed canvases, paint tins and other random objects. Everything is quiet, I lightly rap my knuckles against the wooden door, but there is no answer. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and walk through. My eyes trace over the empty studio where the destruction from the other night has vanished, it’s practically empty. Empty canvases stand to one side; the neat paint pots sit on a table. Hanging in the middle of the room is the canvas of the yellow lips that I saw the other day. But another painting draws my attention, it’s all black but in the middle of it there are silver specks, it looks like light shooting out from it. Then beside that is an unfinished work, there is black sky that hangs over a lavender and yellow backdrop. They are beautiful. I place the croissant on the side table and move closer to examine the image. I’m lost in thought admiring these new works that I jump when I hear his voice. Turning around, I see a dishevelled Louis walk from a back room, his grey pyjama pants hanging low against the deep V of his hips, a trail of caramel hair disappears under the edge. It’s obvious he isn’t wearing any underwear judging by the sizeable bulge. There are speckles of paint across his bare chest; black, white, purple and yellow spots cover his tanned skin.
“You’ve been painting.” My words come out slowly, in awe of this creation. A smirk crosses his face as he runs his fingers through his blond hair, making the waistband of his pants dip dangerous low. My teeth sink into my bottom lip. Before he answers, I yell, “Stop.” Alarming him, I pull out my phone and take a snap of him. The women are going to go crazy for this image. It’s perfect. I mean I’m drooling over it and I’m seeing it in the flesh.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” He looks pissed. I bite my lip harder.
“Um. I just…” This is going to sound really bad now that I have to explain it to him. “Thought you looked good standing there in next to nothing with paint all over…” My hands wave at him. “All over your chest, and I thought it would be perfect to post. Women will go crazy for this image.” Those blue eyes widen in surprise then turn from a turquoise to an almost sapphire colour.
“You like what you see?” His voice is deep and low, sending thundering vibrations over my body.
“I was looking at you ascetically.”
“Like I’m a piece of art?” His brow quirks up at me.
“I told you, you have an ego the size of Everest,” I joke, because the air in the studio has th
ickened between us. He moves toward me and I take a couple of steps back away from him.
“And like I told you, it’s not the only thing that’s big.” My eyes look down at his crotch, his pants have tented a little, my cheeks flush, because I damn well know the size of his dick, and I’m horny, and he is bloody hot, and this is so wrong.
“You painted.” His eyes look over my shoulder to the images behind me.
“Yes.”
“I like it. What is it?” My heart is thundering in my chest as I remind myself he’s my boss and that I need this job. He’s looking at me like he’s seconds away from ripping my clothes off, and I kind of think I want him to. Toby has never looked at me that way before.
“It’s nothing,” He says curtly which makes me frown. His phone starts ringing on the counter, we both look over at it, the sound echoing in the studio, cutting the tension between us. He picks it up and answers, I turn to give him some privacy. “Stay.” His word is commanding. “Hold on, Daniel,” she’s just here,” he talks into the phone then places the phone down onto the counter and presses speaker.
“Morning, Emily,” Daniel says happily through the speaker.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Those photos you took yesterday are amazing. The amount of comments is huge. A couple of art bloggers have picked the images up and are talking about Louis again. So thank you, great job.” Even though he can’t see me his praise makes me happy.
“She’s already taken some this morning,” Louis adds, his eyes never leaving mine.
“I look forward to seeing them. I hope you two can get out and explore some more, I need more images,” Daniel tells us.
“Don’t worry, I have something planned,” Louis adds, which surprises me.
“Fantastic. I’m glad to hear you're on board with this, Louis.”
“If it means getting me on top, a position I like to be in.” Louis looks at me hungrily, his meaning coming through loud and clear. “Then I will do whatever it takes to get me there.”
“I don’t know what you have done to this man, Emily, but keep it up,” Daniel tells me through the phone. Honestly I’m a little taken aback by Louis’ attention. He’s hated me since the moment I arrived and now it feels like he can’t wait to take me to bed. Maybe he’s horny and I’m just convenient. “Anyway, the reason for my call is this weekend you have been invited to a charity gala in Monaco and I think this would the perfect place for you Louis to get back on to the social scene. I have a number of women that would be happy to be seen on your arm. You need someone with a profile, someone that will show that you’re on your way back. Someone with connections.”
“Are you pimping me out, Daniel?” Louis’ jaw tightens.
“Of course I am. Elisabeth and Yves are on every social page in France and Europe, they attend every charity gala, film premier and they rub shoulders with the who’s who of European celebrities. They network their asses off and it’s paying off. He’s becoming an art juggernaut and if you don’t fight back then you're going to be left behind.” I can see the anger bubbling under the surface when Daniel mentions Yves, and he’s right. All the research I have been doing on him shows that he is very well connected, not so well connected four months ago, but once he and Elisabeth got together he exploded onto the scene. “Emily, I’ll need you to attend the gala as well.”
“Wait, what?”
“There’s a chance that…they might attend.” My eyes look at Louis who has stiffened beside me. “I want you there just in case.” I totally understand. Louis remains silent.
“In the top draw of the desk in the office is a company credit card. I’m sure Louis won’t mind buying you something to wear to the event.
“That’s very generous but I can’t accept.”
“Yes you can,” Louis comments. “It’s fine, Daniel, she will be dressed.” He sounds pissed.
“Good, good. I’m emailing over a list of potential dates.”
“No, I don’t want one,” Louis tells Daniel. There is silence for a couple of moments.
“Louis…she might be…” Daniel starts to argue.
“No. I don’t need a woman on my arm, especially not a fake one.”
“You know how these things work.” Daniel tries to argue with him.
“I don’t care. I will not hide away anymore.”
“Fine,” Daniel reluctantly agrees. “Probably better to have you pegged as a bachelor. Women will just want you more, which means all those rich ladies will buy your art to get a piece of you.”
“You sound like a pimp again, not my agent,” Louis says through gritted teeth.
“One and the same at the moment, brother.” Tick goes that vein again on Louis’ neck. “Anyway, I better go, you’re not the only person I have to worry about. I’ll email all the details through to Emily. Please don’t fuck this up. Please don’t cause a scene if they are there,” Daniel warns him but Louis hangs up on him before he even has a chance to finish, the vein on his neck throbbing in overdrive. Before I know it he picks up the colourful painting from this morning and throws it across the room, making me jump. He grabs another canvas and places it in its place on his stand, he grabs the dark coloured paint pots and starts angrily painting away.
“Louis?” My hand comes out and touching his arm, worried about his sudden change, which makes him flinch.
“What?” he says angrily. Those beautiful blue eyes are more like a swirling furnace of fire. “Did you think one day riding through the fucking countryside would help me?” His paintbrush violently stabs at the canvas. “Did you think you could be my next muse?” he hisses at me, the hunger that was there earlier has disappeared and been replaced with the darkness again. His eyes look me over with disdain. “Muse,” he huffs, his lip curls in a snarl as he stares at me. “You wish you could inspire someone like me.” He points his paintbrush in my face. My throat becomes tight as I fight back the tears. I will not let this egomaniac see me cry. I pick up the pot of paint beside me and hurl its contents at him. The midnight blue paint drips down his chest, his eyes widening in shock. “What the fuck?” Paint drips down onto the wooden floor, thick blobs drip down all around him.
“Go fuck yourself, Louis Marchant.” And with that I turn on my heel and walk away from him.
16
Louis
What the fuck just happened? I grab a spare rag and try to wipe off the paint from my skin. What the hell was I thinking lashing out at her like that? Moments earlier I was propositioning her, seconds from picking her up and fucking her on any surface I could get her onto, because for the first time in a long time I was inspired to choose another colour other than the darkness. A tiny speck of light filtering through the dark that has swallowed me. Then some stupid asshole switch turns on when people talk about Elisabeth and Yves.
Fuck!
I kick over my easel sending my latest demonic painting flying across the room. The hurt on Emily’s face as I said those things to her hits me hard in the chest. She didn’t deserve that. I open one of the cupboard doors and find what I am looking for, my bottle of tequila, my old friend. I screw off the cap and take a couple of gulps to try and erase the images of her disappointed face. I don’t blame her throwing the paint at me, I deserved it. She doesn’t deserve some washed up has-been, some idiot who’s messed in the head, a wannabe alcoholic of a man like me. I should be so lucky to have her as my muse. Nothing but sunshine flows from that woman, and some of it filtered through to me last night for the briefest of moments before the ingrained darkness took over again. I slump against the sideboards, my head hanging between my legs, the bottle poised at my lips, I should stop myself falling into that oblivion again but I don’t think I can or maybe I don’t want to.
“Wake up.” A voice filters through my conscious, my eyes slowly open but the world is a blur. “Wake up.” The voice shakes me harder this time. “God, you are pathetic.” The voice pushes me up from where I am lying. “Drink this.” I feel a mug of piping hot coffee
being shoved into my face, the aroma filtering through my nose, waking me up a fraction.
“Who? What?” I try to work out who is in front of me.
“It’s Gabriel,” the voice replies.
“Oh, hey.” I take a sip of the hot coffee.
“You’re a fucking dickhead.” My head begins to pound as I try to concentrate on the blurry image in front of me.
“What did you say?” My words slur.
“I said. You are a fucking dickhead.” He annunciates each word so that I comprehend it better.
“That’s what I thought you said.” My eyes narrow as he comes into focus. “How dare you. I gave you this job. I sent you to culinary school. I expect loyalty from you.” I take another sip of coffee.
“You have my fucking loyalty, especially when I turned your wife down when she asked me to fuck her.” I drop my cup and lunge at him, pushing him to the floor. “Go on, do it. Hit me,” he urges me. My hands are gripping his shirt tightly. What the hell am I doing? I fall back and slump against the sideboard.
“I’m sorry.” I hang my head in shame. When all the shit came out about Elisabeth, he was one of only a few that turned her advances down. He told me he owed me everything. I found him homeless living outside my Paris apartment. Every day I would chat to him, give him food. Not until I found him bloodied and bruised, almost close to death, that I took him in, got him healthy again and helped get his life back. His parents were drug addicts and it was safer for him to live on the streets than at home, he was fifteen at the time. He’s like my little brother. When I found out others I had employed had betrayed me, I don’t know if I could have coped finding out if he was one of the men who had been intimate with Elisabeth. He was actually one of the only people, who over the years, that told me about the rumours of her with other men. I didn't believe him, mainly because Elisabeth would tell me he was jealous because he was in love with me, that he was really gay and that he wanted her out of the picture. I believed her, but I refused to get rid of him. In the end he was the only one that had my back.
