“You look happy,” I murmured, letting my eyes take her in. It was the kind of genuine happiness that was inspirational. It was the kind of genuine happiness that I wasn’t capable of feeling anymore. The longer I stared at her face, the more intrigued I was by the source of her happiness. “Let me paint your face.”
Her eyes bulged and her face contorted quickly. “What?” she sputtered, clearly caught off guard. “You twist everything into a potential subject to be painted, you know that right? A normal response to receiving a gift would be, ‘Thanks Bianca. I appreciate this.’ But no, not you. Not Roman fucking Harper. You say weird artist shit.”
I laughed loudly, the sound echoing in the otherwise silent house. I placed the journal on the coffee table and turned my entire body toward her. My knee grazed the biggest box as I adjusted myself on the couch.
“Okay the timing of the question may have been weird,” I admitted smoothly. “But the way the sun is hitting your face right now is beautiful. You are beautiful. You are—”
“Calling you on your bullshit,” Bianca interrupted, shaking her head. “Are those the lines you use with these women who are running around town lusting after you?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and cocked my head to the side. “I don’t use lines.”
“I’ve only been back a couple of months and the only thing that seems to have stayed the same is your stupefying effect on women.”
“Three things. One, I already apologized for the way Allie behaved when we ran into her at the sandwich shop. I wouldn’t say that her behavior was typical of all women who make my acquaintance, but still, I apologize.” I paused for a second as she rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. “Two, I don’t use lines. You know that,” I reiterated. “Three, I really do want to paint you.”
“I’m not a model. And I like to create art, not be art.”
“That’s the beauty of the series. Every single face is art. And you don’t have to be a model.”
“I’d rather not.”
“You’re willing to stunt my artistic vision? Really? On the biggest day of my career?”
We stared at one another for a moment. She narrowed her eyes at me and sighed heavily. “Fine! You’re an ass, you know that?”
“So is that a yes?”
“Only because you asked today and today is your big day. If you would’ve asked me yesterday or tomorrow, the answer would’ve been hell no. Anyway, open this one.” She tossed the small box in my lap before crossing her arms.
“Cool, I’ll let you know what day I’ll need you in the studio,” I informed her, pulling the wrapping paper off of the box. I shook the lightweight box gently before taking off the top.
“What?” I laughed. “A quill pen?”
“This is for when you get really famous and sign autographs,” she explained.
“This is so ridiculous that I love it.”
“And you won’t look like a pompous asshole at all if you pull it out of your pocket with a little vile of ink when you use it.” Her eyes were opened comically wide and she emphatically shook her head.
“I will use it tonight. I will sign any additional paperwork from Charlotte Spence with this pen and this pen only.”
“I will hold you to that.” She smiled and handed me the last package.
I put the quill pen on top of the journal and then started opening the large gift.
First a journal, then a pen… this is probably a small canvas or a large sketch book, I guessed as I pulled the top off of the box.
“Holy shit, B,” I breathed as I stared at the Kolinsky sable brushes. I looked up at her as she beamed at me.
“I know!” she squealed, her eyes shimmering.
“Thank you.” I looked back down at the set of five brushes before looking back up at her. “Thank you so much, but I can’t accept this.”
“You need new brushes. You said the other day you needed new ones. And after the way you’ve been attacking the canvas the last couple of months, I thought it was the perfect gift for you.”
“But I can’t let you spend one hundred and fifty dollars on brushes for me.”
“First of all, this is a congratulatory gift. This is in honor of the first of many showcases you will put on in your career. This is my gift to you. Second of all, you don’t let me do anything. I’m a grown ass woman so you let me worry about my bank account.”
I wanted to push the subject, but I didn’t. She never inquired about my finances and I appreciated her for that so I didn’t need to inquire about her finances either. All I knew was that she came from a wealthy family and she used to work as a teaching assistant. Since I was there for her interview, I knew that didn’t pay much.
Gesturing to the gifts, I looked into her eyes. “Thank you for this,” I said sincerely. “This is great. You really didn’t have to get me anything, but I appreciate the fact that you did.”
“Like it or not, you’re my best friend, Ro. Not to get super sentimental, but with our family situations being what they are, we have to be there for each other.”
I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. Bianca had once described her parents as stereotypical rich people with whom she had no relationship and then she’d abruptly ended that portion of the conversation. She didn’t elaborate and I didn’t push. I knew if I did, it would open conversation about me. So when the time came and she finally asked about my parents, I told her they were dead and she didn’t push for more information than that. It was early in our friendship and I didn’t know it would evolve like it did.
And now I feel like shit, I thought, swallowing thickly.
“I’m proud of you. You are going to completely blow Charlotte Spence’s mind and the buyers won’t know what hit them,” she assured me.
“Soon enough, you’re going to be the Charlotte Spence of curators.” Placing the brushes on the coffee table with the rest of the gifts, I pulled her into my side, draping my arm around her shoulders. I kissed the top of her head. “You are awesome. Thank you.”
“I know and you’re welcome.” She hugged me back briefly before standing up. “I need to get to my hair appointment.” Pulling at one of her tightly coiled strands until it was stretched completely straight, she made a face. “And we both know that I’m going to be at the salon all day to tame this.”
Looking up at her, I smiled. Her hair was wild, but I liked it. “You’re not going to cut it, are you?”
Picking up her bag, she draped the strap over her shoulder. “What’s it to you?”
“Are we doing this again?” I asked, getting up from the couch and following her to the door.
Tossing a laugh over her shoulder, Bianca opened the front door. “I can’t help it. You know I like to rile you up every chance I get. If you liked to be around people more, you’d understand witty banter.”
Leaning against the doorjamb, I watched her trot down the front steps toward her car. “How do you know that I just don’t like to be around you?” I joked.
Turning around, she walked backwards in the direction of her car. “Because when Malik invited me to the celebration tonight, I asked him who was going to be there since you don’t like parties or people. And he said you wanted to celebrate with just the crew.” She opened her car door and then sang, “I’m part of the crew.”
I shook my head. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Are you coming back here or are you meeting me at Art House?”
“I’ll probably just meet you there. Even though it’s closer to leave from here, I’d have to bring all of my stuff over here and it’d be too much trouble.”
“Well then give me my spare key back,” I replied with a chuckle as she tossed her bag into the passenger seat.
“It’s at home. I’ll bring it to you tonight. But damn, Ro!” She held up her hands in surrender. “I’ve had the key for less than twenty-four hours and you’re already freaking out. This speaks volumes. Do I hear commitment issues?”
“That’s rich coming from Ms. Congeniality he
rself,” I retorted.
Laughing, Bianca slipped into her car with her middle finger held high. Before pulling off down the road, she gave me a big smile and hit the horn twice. I watched the back of her red two-door coupe until it turned out of the neighborhood.
I’ll get through tonight. Sell some paintings. Get wasted with the boys…and B. And then I’ll wait to hear back from Charlotte Spence, I silently mused, pushing off of the door.
My eyes swept over the neighborhood and before I took a step back inside of my house, I froze. My stomach plummeted as I noticed Hannah standing several houses down the street. Although she was too far away for me to read her facial expression, I knew she was staring right at me. Caught off guard, my kneejerk reaction was to wave.
Without any acknowledgement, she turned and walked in the opposite direction.
What the hell was that?
_____
Chapter Four
During the last hour of the showcase, I was sweating my ass off underneath my tuxedo. Besides the fact that I hate crowds and parties, Charlotte Spence expected a black-tie affair for her trip to Virginia. Once I showed her a picture of my statement piece, she contacted some gallery owners and a few Upper Eastside art enthusiasts to make the trip to my showcase with her. So, what started out as a small showing of my work quickly spiraled into a catered black-tie event with one lucky partygoer winning a small painting. I put the glass of champagne to my lips and finished it off.
I’m going to need a few more of these to get through this, I thought as I emptied the contents of the glass into my mouth.
Charlotte Spence was exactly how I imagined: smart, cold and unreadable. Even so, my instincts were rarely wrong and I knew we would get along well. When she arrived, we discussed the role she would play in my life as my representative. Although I would remain autonomous, creating the work that inspired me, she would handle the brokering of my pieces. I would set price points and she would find buyers to buy those pieces at those price points. We outlined everything and I signed the contract immediately.
What I didn’t expect was to spend so much time talking about myself. I knew people would want to know about the art. I’m always prepared to discuss the art, but I don’t talk much about myself to anyone. I didn’t want to talk to anyone at the showcase about my personal life or anything other than art.
To be honest, I didn’t want to talk to anyone period, but to Charlotte, every single person was a potential buyer, so I needed to meet them all. From the pretentious people looking to buy to the art students just looking to network, I was being forced to make small talk and mingle. For the love of art and for the future of my career, I did my best version of mingling. I revealed as little about myself as possible as I moved from person to person, dodging direct questions about my life and redirecting them to the art. Over the years, I had become a pro at being evasive, but I’d never had so much riding on it. So I did the best that I could, but mingling was exhausting and I needed a break.
“Are you okay?” Monroe’s assistant Meredith asked as she walked out of the backdoor toward me. She tucked her short reddish-brown hair behind her ears and smiled shyly.
I smiled back.
“Needed some fresh air,” I replied politely.
Truly, I just needed a break. Both Allison and Hannah had made an appearance at the event and both women were completely unpredictable. I figured Hannah was a bit of a loose cannon but I had no idea Allie was until we ended our sexual relationship.
“You look handsome. I’ve never seen you all dressed up like this.”
“Thanks. You look beautiful, Meredith. Blue looks good on you,” I returned the compliment with a smile. Meredith was a sweetheart—nice, cute, sweet, and a lot less nosey than her boss.
“Thank you,” she giggled. “I was self-conscious after Monroe said I looked like a blue ballerina.”
“You look like a beautiful ballerina.”
She did look like a blue ballerina, but that didn’t take away from the fact that she looked good.
“Did you need something?” I asked, wanting to get back to my peaceful moment alone.
“Oh, yes, sorry! Monroe sent me to look for you. The photographer is setting up right now.”
“Thanks for the heads up.” I pulled at my collar and followed her back into the building.
We walked down the short hallway in silence. Right before we entered the lobby, Meredith stopped. “Roman,” she started, her meek voice wavering nervously as she turned to look at me. “I have something for you. It’s a card. For your accomplishments.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that, Meredith. I really do.”
“I’ll go get it! I put it with all the others.” Spinning on her heel, she rushed in the direction of Monroe’s office and got lost in the crowd.
“Okay,” I replied under my breath as I moved in the direction of the photographer and Charlotte Spence.
“And here he is now,” Charlotte announced to the small group that surrounded her. Her cool, clipped tone gave nothing away as I saddled up beside her. “Roman, meet Jackson and Ana Carter. They just arrived and have already taken a liking to your work.”
“Hello, how are you?” I greeted the couple, shaking their hands.
“Right there . . . and smile,” the photographer said as I exchanged pleasantries with the couple.
“I’m good. How are you?” I continued after the pictures were done.
“We love your work. We’re still looking around, but we are thinking about redecorating our entire living room based around these two,” Ana Carter gushed excitedly, pointing at the large pieces in front of us.
“Thank you. I appreciate your support.” I smiled, feeling pride and excitement grip me.
“What inspired you to do this?” she asked innocently, pointing at my statement piece.
“Life experiences,” I answered with enough charm and finesse that I was sure she wouldn’t ask any follow up questions about it.
“Oh wow,” she sighed softly. She turned to her husband and told him her plans for their living room.
I looked over at Charlotte and tried to read her as she jotted down something in her notebook.
Nothing, I thought as I assessed her thin lips making a straight line across her face. I’m starting to think this is just the default expression her face is set on.
The alternative would be that she’s unimpressed with the event. The alternative would mean that although the place is packed, no one is buying. The alternative would mean that my career would be over before it even had a chance to begin. I shook my head to clear the thoughts of the alternative.
“…your family?” Jackson Carter inquired, interrupting the dark turn my thoughts were taking.
I looked between the couple and they must have noticed the confused look on my face because his wife repeated the question.
“What does your family think of this? Are they here tonight?” Ana asked, looking around.
My stomach churned in discomfort as the pride and excitement dissipated. The smile I wore like a mask slipped as I swallowed thickly. “Unfortunately, they couldn’t be here tonight,” I answered evenly, evasively.
Charlotte’s eyes snapped up from her notepad and met mine. “Jackson, Ana, let’s let Roman mingle with a few more guests before the night is over. How did you see this working in your living room again?”
Ana quickly jumped into an enthusiastic overview of her plans while her husband checked his phone and nodded on cue. I gave an almost imperceptible nod to Charlotte before humbly bowing out of the conversation. As I moved easily and with purpose through the crowd, I heard her voice.
“Roman Harper!” Bianca’s distinctive voice called out from behind me.
Finally! A familiar fucking face that I didn’t have to pretend with, I thought as I turned around. I hadn’t seen Brad, Malik, or Bianca since the beginning of the event.
“Did you have that on earlier?” I burst out, eyeing her curves in the black dress.
Rolling her eyes, she laughed as she gave me a short hug. “Yes, I had this on earlier. I spent good money on this SoHoCo dress so I’ll probably have this on for the next few weeks.” Pushing away from me, she put her hands on her hips. “Is there a problem?”
My eyes lingered on the curve of her hips before I met her eyes again. “Not a problem at all,” I uttered smoothly, taking a step closer to her. I dropped my voice to barely above a whisper. “You look incredible, B.”
Incredible doesn’t even begin to describe how she looks, I thought, unable to take my eyes off of her. Between her stunning good looks and her sexy curves, I knew I was dangerously close to overstepping our friendly bounds.
“Roman,” she warned, narrowing her eyes playfully. She closed the gap between us, tilting her head upward. “You couldn’t handle all of this, so stop eyeing it.”
Oh she wants to flirt dirty?
“Don’t play with me, Bianca.” Looking at her cleavage salaciously, I licked my lips. Bending down so my mouth was pressed against the shell of her ear, I whispered, “If you weren’t my best friend, I’d take you to my studio right now and fuck the shit out of you. I wouldn’t stop until you begged me. Do you understand me?”
Pulling away from her slightly, I saw her mouth hanging open and her face was flushed.
Laughing, I shrugged. “You wanted to play dirty.”
Snapping her mouth closed, she flashed an amused smile. “You win. You—”
“You two should just fuck and get it over with,” Brad interrupted just loud enough to startle us away from one another.
“Chill the fuck out, Easy,” I countered roughly, crossing my arms and gauging his alcoholic intake. I wasn’t loud enough to be overheard, but I got my point across. His slightly glazed eyes widened momentarily.
“I’m just saying, you two—”
“It’s pretty clear why you don’t have any female friends, Easy,” Bianca said, cutting him off. Looking directly at me, I saw that her face was still flushed. She took a few steps backward. “This isn’t over. I’m going to go find Malik…you know, the responsible one of the group. And chin up, you only have twenty more minutes of this left.”
Heartache Page 4
