Love in Colour

by JA Low

  “No thanks.” I push it away.

  “Take one bite, please.” She pushes the plate in front of me again. I roll my eyes, take a bite, and push it back. “Thank you.” Ave moves away leaving me alone.

  There’s a black town car waiting for us at the airport.

  “The driver will take you to wherever you need to go. Emily’s things will be packed up and shipped back to London as soon as it can be arranged.” Daniel’s talking to someone. “Here’s my business card, if any of you need anything please don’t hesitate to call me.” I let out a frustrated sigh.

  “Thank you so much, Daniel. We’ll be in touch,” Ava tells him. I roll my eyes. Of course she will be, she wants to fuck him. I saw the fuck me eyes she’s been throwing him all weekend. Whatever. I don’t care. I jump into the back of the town car and curl into the door. I wait patiently until the others join me and the car starts moving again.

  “You don’t mind sharing with me again?” Rosie asks, attempting to cheer me up. I just ignore her and stare out the window watching the city go by.

  We drop off all the girls and then it’s our turn. Rosie helps me out of the car and up into her apartment.

  “I’m just going to go to bed,” I tell her.

  “Okay, well I’m here if you need me.” She gives me a tight hug a little longer than is necessary. “I mean it, Em, I’m here for you. We all are.” I nod and make my way to the spare room where a bed is made up for me. I pull back the duvet and sink into the soft bed. A bed that makes me feel safe, I take the pill the doctor prescribed and fall asleep not long after.

  Hands touch me. I feel hands all over my body. Lips against my skin and I can’t free myself. I scream and shout trying to get free but I can’t. I call out for help but no one is there. Hands try and pull my legs apart. I try to kick and scream again but nothing comes out.

  “Emmy, Emmy, wake up it’s a dream.” I jolt up in my bed, my body is bathed in sweat and Rosie is sitting beside me on the bed, a look of concern on her face.

  “He tried to…” I burst out crying. Rosie pulls me into her arms and holds me as I cry. Hours later, I eventually fall back to sleep with Rosie right next to me. When I wake in the morning and realise it’s her who is sharing my bed, I feel relieved.

  “He’s been charged with sexual assault.” I hear Georgia say as I enter Rosie’s kitchen. It’s been a couple of days since that fateful night. They stop talking when they see me.

  “I heard you.” I grab a juice from the fridge.

  “Good. So you now know you’re safe,” Georgia tells me. Rosie and I have been sharing a bed these last couple of nights, I’m too scared to go to sleep because the images of Yves keep playing in my mind and I’m too sacred to close my eyes when I’m on my own.

  “He’s not convicted yet.” I take a sip of my juice.

  “This is true, but…” I shake my head at Georgia.

  “The man is a national treasure, he’s rich and powerful. Do you seriously think he is going to be convicted?” Are these girls stupid.

  “He will if you testify,” Georgia adds. My eyes bug out.

  “Are you fucking serious? You think I am going to testify against him?”

  “You’re not?” she accuses.

  “Of course I’m not. The media is going to get a hold of this and twist it. They are going to make me out to be a whore or even worse a serial reporter. I can’t do that. I can’t handle it.” Tears well in my eyes. “It’s going to be a national scandal.”

  “We are here for you. We will support you. We will protect you,” Ava reassures me.

  “Like you did that night?” The room falls silent. “Like you all did with...with...Connor?” Tears fall from my friends’ eyes. “Both times something has happened to me you have all been there right beside me. You were supposed to protect me. But you didn’t,” I scream at my friends. “You let them take me. Touch me. Destroy me.” They are all sobbing now at my words. “How can I ever trust you all?”

  “That’s not fair, Emmy,” Georgia argues.

  “Not fair! Not fair! What’s not fair is having someone forcibly take your virginity. Someone who was your best friend. The person you thought you could trust. That’s not fucking fair.”

  “We’re sorry, Emmy.” Rosie is sobbing.

  “You’re sorry. That’s good. That makes everything all okay then doesn’t it. Because you are sorry.” I’m angry now, so fucking angry. Why me? Why is this happening to me again?

  “There’s another bouquet of flowers.” Rosie places the vases of sunflowers in the kitchen and adds to the others. Every single day for the past two weeks Louis has sent me a vase of sunflowers to Rosie’s apartment. No note, just the flowers. Every single time they arrive I want to throw them into the bin, but Rosie stops me, tells me she loves sunflowers and she would rather look at them then waste them. But what I have been doing is painting. Rosie has let me set up an art space in the spare room and I spend most of my days locked away in the room. There’s a gorgeous view of the private residents’ gardens from there, but I’m not painting happy, light paintings. Mine are angry, aggressive, haunting; all the emotions that are inside of me at the moment are flowing through to my art. Every day when Rosie comes home from work and sees my latest creations her smile fades just a little. She thinks it’s fantastic that I am painting again after all these years, but I can see the concern on her face when she sees the images I have painted that are not so nice. She’s worried about me, I know she is, all my friends are, they think I should go to therapy, and maybe I should, but I just want to process it myself. Art is my therapy. If I can get rid of the demons that haunt me overnight when I close my eyes through painting, then I would rather that than some doctor prescribing me drugs like they did last time. That just added to my misery and sent me into a deep depression. I never want to be like that ever again.

  The girls finally explained to me what happened that night. I needed to know, I needed to know how far Yves got. Apparently the friends that had surrounded our table in the VIP section were his crew, he had used them as some kind of distraction, one of his friends had placed something in my drink while we were talking. I hadn’t even noticed, but the cameras from the VIP section caught it all, unfortunately security had missed it as there was a fight on the lower level happening at the same time. Yves waited for his moment and when I went to the bathroom that’s when he took it. Louis had told the girls that they busted in just as he was taking my clothes off. The doctor’s report had shown no physical or sexual assault had taken place. I am so thankful. I don't know if I could cope with being defiled for a second time. Georgia made sure I knew that Louis attacked Yves, pummelled him within an inch of his life for touching me. There’s a small section deep down inside of me that’s happy he did, that he cared enough to fight for me. But I should never have been put in that situation; I should never have been around someone so evil as Yves.

  There’s a knock at Rosie’s door. Rather strange as it’s the middle of the day. I’ve been holed up in my studio for hours lost in myself. Maybe Rosie forgot her keys? I make my way to the door and peek through the hole. It’s Daniel. What the hell is he doing here? How did he get in? This is a secure building. My heart begins to race, my hands shake and my skin becomes clammy. I suck in a deep breath calming myself, then I open the door. He seems surprised that I’m opening the door, a friendly smile lands on his face.

  “Hey,” he says awkwardly, as if he doesn’t know what to say to me.

  “Hey.” It’s the start of a great conversation here.

  “You’re painting.” He points to my paint splattered clothes.

  “Yeah, I am.” My curt answer makes him shift nervously before me.

  “Can I come in?” He gives me puppy dog eyes. “I want to talk to you about something.” Every part of my body is screaming no you can’t come in but for some reason I go against my inner thoughts and I say yes. Opening the door for him, I allow him to pass. He seems as shocked as I am as he enters Rosie’
s apartment. He walks into the living room and stands awkwardly.

  “Would you like a drink?” He nods.

  “Water please.” I busy myself in the kitchen getting us both a glass of water. I hand it to him and we both take a seat on the sofa in silence for a couple of moments.

  “How are you doing?” Daniel looks over at me and I shrug, because it’s a daily struggle. “I see you’ve received Louis’ flowers.” He points to all the sunflowers filling up the apartment.

  “Rosie seems to like them.” He frowns a little but doesn’t say anything. He takes an uneasy sip of his water. “Why are you here?” My question is filled with accusation. He places the glass down on the coffee table.

  “I have an offer for you.” That wasn’t exactly what I thought he was going to say.

  “No amount of money can make me go back there, Daniel,” I tell him.

  “That’s not what I am here about,” he tells me. “Before everything happened Louis asked me if I would ask the New York gallery if they would be interested in sharing the space they have for him with another artist.” Okay, not sure what that has to do with me. We just stare at each other. “The gallery said yes.”

  “That’s all good, but this has nothing to do with me. I don’t work for Louis anymore.”

  “I know. But the artist they want is you.” My heart stops in my chest. What the hell did he say? Me? How? Why? Am I actually dreaming? Because this kind of seems like a dream, something like this wouldn’t happen in real life. “Louis sent photos of the paintings you did while in Ibiza. He asked if he could share the show with you.” That was weeks ago. Why would he do this for me? I don’t understand. “Louis thinks you’re talented, extremely talented.” I shake my head. No. I don’t want to hear this.

  “I’m no artist, Daniel.”

  I want to represent you.” My heart beats loudly in my chest. What the hell is going on, am I being punked?

  “You’re only saying this because of what happened. Is this hush money?” I stand up abruptly and begin to pace the living room. “You’re both trying to absolve yourselves.” My chest feels tight, my head hurts, I don’t feel great. I stumble feeling dizzy. Daniel rushes over and holds me steady, I pull away from him, feeling vulnerable.

  “Emily, you have no idea how sorry I am at what happened.” I can’t look at him, but the sincerity in his voice is killing me. “Louis blames himself. He’s…” I hear him sigh. “He’s not doing so well.” I don’t react. I can’t. But knowing Louis is hurting too, there’s a tiny portion of me that feels bad, but I stuff it away, deep down inside of me. “He wants to help.”

  “That’s why he’s offering this?” My eyes well with tears.

  “God, Emily, no. He thinks you are talented. He’s had this planned for ages, he was going to tell you after you got back from Paris.” I wrap my arms around myself, a flutter of hope begins to take flight inside of me. “I think you're talented too.” I look up at Daniel. “I’d love to see what you’ve been working on.” Really? “You don’t have to say yes to New York, but think about it. We can make sure that you and Louis are never near each other if that’s what you want. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. But please, just think about it?” This is all sounding way too good to be true. I close my eyes and try to calm myself. I take a couple of steps and make my way toward my makeshift studio. It takes me until I am half way across the room before Daniel follows me. I push open the door to my inner sanctum, exposing myself to him. He passes me giving me a reassuring smile, then he stops. He stands there taking in every inner thought that I have had these past two weeks. He steps forward and touches the work, the bright red paint catching his attention, the long strokes across the canvas. I guess this is where Louis and I differ in our melancholy, his art was dark, you could tell he was not in the right head space compared to his normal colourful artwork, but mine, it’s the opposite; bright vibrant colours swirl across the canvas, but it’s the images that show what is really going on, the pushing and pulling of hands, the snarl of an ugly face, the tears falling from a fragile girl huddled in a corner. “Emily, these are…” He stands in awe, his head moving from side to side taking it all in. He pulls out his phone. “May I?” he asks. I nod my head and he starts taking photos, documenting every single canvas. “These are spectacular.” His fingers run over one canvas. The only one that I allowed myself to paint that wasn’t dark, wasn’t disturbed. It’s an image of a couple embracing, making love, every twist and turn of the couple in their love making. He stares at this one the longest. I wonder what he is thinking. “He would love this.” He taps at the image.

  The words stumble out of my mouth before my brain has time to compute what they are saying. “Take it.” He turns and looks at me surprised.

  “You’re giving me this?” He asks for clarity. I move forward and pick it up, handing the artwork to him.

  “Give it to him. If it helps him move on.” I don’t want Louis to fall back into the hole that he had just climbed out of. If this painting can help him move on, start afresh, then he needs it more than I do.

  “He will love it,” Daniel tells me taking the canvas from my hands. I shrug. “You’ll think about my request?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The event is in a month’s time.” My chest tightens that’s not long. “You know where I live, I’m not far. If you want to do this, I can help you, anything you need, I can help.” I give him a small smile.

  “I’ll think about it.” This makes him smile, popping out that dimple of his. He leans in and kisses my cheek.

  “Don’t be a stranger. No matter what your answer is, no matter your relationship with Louis, just know we’re friends, okay?” I’m a little taken aback but his sentiment.

  “Thank you.” I reach out and give him a hug, strong arms envelope me. His hard chest presses against mine, something inside of me breaks and I have to try to push it back in. The tears, the fears, the shock.

  “Hey.” Daniel looks down at me shaking in his arms. “Emily, are you okay?” I shake my head, the tears fall further down my cheeks, soaking my t-shirt. Daniel pulls me in closer to him. “Let it out. You're safe now, just let it out.” He holds me until there is nothing left inside of me.

  33

  Louis

  I’ve let myself sink back into that dark place again, my trusty bottle of tequila by my side. The demonic colours are back against the white canvas. I haven’t heard from her in weeks. I’ve stalked her social media and the last images are of her running through the lavender fields. An image that I may have as my screen saver. I am such a fucking stalker. Daniel was seeing her today and my nerves are a jumbled mess. I’ve told the staff that they can have holidays as I won’t be requiring any help. Honestly, I just want to be left alone. I want to wallow in my misery, and as much as misery loves company, I do not.

  “Wow, I’m loving the new direction.” That voice. A voice that months ago I would have longed to hear again, but now, now it’s like fingernails running down a chalkboard. The sound makes my stomach turn, the tequila curdles.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I’m seething. Her motherfucking toy boy tried to rape my girl and I hate her for it. I hate her for ruining my life. Creating the monster that is Yves.

  “Wow. That’s not how you greet your wife,” she purrs. Elisabeth is dressed in skin tight jeans making her legs look miles long, her generous chest on display with the deep V showing it off. Ordinarily, my dick would twitch at the sight of her, but now, nothing.

  “Ex-wife,” I remind her, but she just waves her hands in the air as if it means nothing.

  “I like this new direction you’ve taken, Louis. It’s so dramatic.” She smiles.

  “I am going to count to three and if you’re not gone from my property I am going to have security escort you the fuck off it.” She lets out a heavy sigh but doesn’t move, enraging me even more.

  “Calm down, Louis.” She gives me her fuck me eyes, I want to hurl. “I hear Yves has been a n
aughty boy,” Elisabeth purrs.

  “He tried to rape my girlfriend.” She bristles at the word girlfriend, that’s what she has a problem with not that her toy boy is a potential rapist.

  “Girlfriend? That girl was your girlfriend?” Her lip snarls. My eyes narrow at her, never in my life have I ever wanted to harm a woman than I do at this moment.

  “I would even go as far as to say she’s the one.” That comment hits its mark.

  “Is your so called girlfriend going to be pressing charges?” Ah, that’s what she’s worried about, her golden goose losing his shine.

  “Yes,” I say confidently, even though I know she isn’t. Elisabeth straightens herself.

  “It’s her word against his,” she tells me.

  “There were witnesses, plus video of him putting something in her drink.” Usually Elisabeth is hard to read but that comment surprises her.

  “Is this true?” I nod my head.

  “Your little toy boy is going to be going away for a very long time if I have anything to do with it.” Elisabeth’s nostrils flair at my comment.

  “Don’t you think people are going to think this little story is about you seeking revenge on the man who stole your wife?”

  “I don’t care. He can’t get away with it. He attacked her in Monaco as well.” I’ve surprised her again with that little bit of information, but she stays composed.

  “We are on the verge of a multimillion dollar contract, Louis, something I have been curating for months. I am not going to let some whore take it away from me.” I stiffen to my full height, my face is red with anger and my body is rigid with rage.

  “He tried to rape her, Elisabeth. Rape her. Do you understand that?” She doesn’t back down.

  “How much will it cost to make this all go away, Louis? Name your price. Ten million? Fifty million? One hundred million?”

  “What? You think you can buy me?”