Safeword: Quinacridone

by Candace Blevins

  It occurred to her perhaps the girls he’d paid had felt the way she did now, and she didn’t like the thought. She’d wanted the guys she didn’t care about to objectify her, but the thought of Travis buying her just hurt. The sooner she got him out of her life, the better. Out of sight, out of mind...right?

  She took a deep breath and steadied her nerves, glad the restaurant was especially noisy and no one seemed to have overheard. Pulling her order pad from her apron she said, “I’m sorry. What would you like?”

  He looked crestfallen. “I’m sorry, too. That wasn’t my intention. Just bring me some lemon pie and leave the check so you won’t have to come back more than necessary. I’ll eat it and be gone, and won’t do this to you again. I hope you’ll change your mind about seeing me, but I’ll give you some space.”

  At a loss for how to respond, she nodded and said she’d be right back.

  True to his word, he ate his pie and left. It’d cost $4.90, and he left a ten-dollar bill on the table.

  Cara spent part of her break crying in the bathroom, her mind relieved she wouldn’t see him again, and her heart broken.

  Chapter Nine

  Cara was beyond nervous, and incredibly grateful to Papa Bear for driving her to Atlanta.

  A gallery owner named Magnus Romano had discovered her and was holding a huge event featuring four artists tonight, one of which would be her. Magnus had even given her an advance on earnings so she could buy a suitable dress, stressing it should be a party dress by a well-known designer to impress the clientele he’d be attracting. But Travis had shipped the dresses he’d bought and she’d decided to wear one of them, as she learned they cost way more than Magnus advanced her and were a similar style to his suggested designers.

  Travis wouldn’t see her tonight and it couldn’t hurt to make use of the beautiful pearl white dress. Kiki had done her hair in a fantastic updo, and she’d splurged on a pair of low healed pearl shoes, figuring the dress was free and the shoes were just too perfect. Besides, with what she stood to earn this evening, she could afford it.

  Magnus loved her painting of the girls in the briars, and he’d put an eight thousand dollar price tag on it. She’d only get two thirds of the selling price, but still, if only a quarter of the paintings he’d chosen sold, she’d be set for a while with a nice cushion. Between what this showing could mean, and the extra graphics jobs coming to her lately, she planned to give the restaurant her two-week notice Monday.

  Cara wandered around her section of the gallery, looking at her paintings hanging in groupings. She hadn’t expected the briar picture to actually sell while she painted it; she’d considered it therapeutic and figured even if it sold, it wouldn’t bring much. But Magnus said she’d painted part of her soul into it, and people were willing to pay more when it meant they were buying part of someone’s soul.

  She wasn’t certain how he’d done it, but the pieces she had an emotional investment in had much higher price tags, though she thought he’d priced them all too high. No way would they sell for these amounts in Chattanooga.

  She stopped suddenly, not sure what she was seeing. The shapes slowly began taking form as her brain came to terms with the image in the large framed photograph — a woman bound by ropes, her body twisted artistically, the light catching her beautifully, and her face a combination of love, pain, and adoration. Her nipples were trapped in the red and black roping and looked like they hurt, and the mirror behind her reflected angry red whip marks on her back.

  Magnus had told her the other artists highlighted tonight were a photographer, a woodcarver, and a sculptor; but he hadn’t mentioned what kind of photos would be exhibited.

  Cara turned to look at another picture and saw considerably more complicated rope work, with a woman’s arms behind her in a way that had to hurt — straight back and bound together from wrists past her elbows. One leg was on the ground, the other stretched in an obscene sideways arabesque. Her arms were lifted up, away from her back, which would’ve bent her over except her ponytail was woven with more rope and tied to an unseen anchor above, forcing her to stand nearly upright. The way the shadows were manipulated, you couldn’t see her genitals, though you knew she was nude.

  The next photo displayed a man on his knees, his cock obviously hard beneath a small piece of fabric. He wasn’t bound but his hands grasped his ankles as his spine arched backwards and his head looked down at his feet so he formed a continuous circle. His muscles were strained, and his face again a mixture of pain and bliss as he fought to hold the pose. Cara turned, saw Papa Bear watching, and blushed.

  “I told you before; all pain is not bad.” He regarded the image a moment before focusing on her with a friendly smile. “You should talk to people about your artwork. That’s why you’re here, to hobnob with customers so they can brag about meeting the artist when someone mentions the art on their walls.”

  An hour later she wished she’d chosen flats instead of low heels, and longed for better social skills, though the patrons she spoke with seemed okay with her lack of them. Maybe it was expected for artists to be a bit off? Papa Bear had told her not to worry about feeling shy, to just be nice and people would be fine with her not being a social butterfly.

  She occasionally wandered back to the photos and grew terribly flustered at such in-your-face evidence of so many people obviously aroused by pain, and who seemed to adore the person hurting them. These pictures didn’t make it look wrong — they made sense to her, and didn’t feel dirty, kinky, or bad. They were beautiful.

  She rounded a corner and saw a tall, thin man looking at her briar painting, and her heart stopped when she realized it was Travis. Shit, what was he doing here? He’d left her alone since she’d made it clear she didn’t want to see him anymore, and he hadn’t stepped into the restaurant since, not even to visit the LAN gaming side. At least, not during one of her shifts.

  It’d been almost three months since she’d seen him, and she managed to walk without her knees feeling as if they’d collapse at any moment, but her heart wasn’t faring so well.

  Travis turned towards her, his eyes serious and a little sad. “This is fantastic, Cara. So different from the joy, peace, and beauty you usually paint; but I love it. This is you, too — just another side.”

  Cara didn’t respond and he shifted his attention back to the picture. Thirty seconds later the gallery owner walked up and Travis said, “Magnus, put a sold sign on this, please. I can write a check now or you can wait until I’ve made the rounds and I’ll pay for everything at once. But I’m definitely buying this one.”

  Magnus pulled a SOLD label from his pocket, saying, “I don’t know if she’s introduced herself, but this little lady’s the artist. Travis Winslow, meet Cara Jamieson. She’s from Chattanooga too, but don’t get any ideas. She has a keeper wondering around and he doesn’t miss much. He gave me the third degree and went over our contract with a fine tooth comb, and wouldn’t give an inch on a few specific terms.” He shook his head and smiled good-naturedly. “I don’t think I’d want to cross him. Have a look around; here are a few sold labels if you want to mark something else as yours. Just take notes on what you claim.”

  He walked away and Travis looked at her. “You seeing someone?”

  She shook her head. “It’s Papa Bear. He drove me down and, well, Magnus is kind of right. He’s acting a lot like my keeper.”

  “Will you walk with me while I look? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so please don’t feel obligated. I hope I’ve given you enough space, but I’ve missed you terribly. If buying your art is as close to you as I can get, I will, but I’d rather have you around. You have to know I’d never...”

  Cara put a finger to his lips. “Stop, Travis. Just, stop talking. Yes, I’ll walk with you. No promises, no apologies. How’ve you been?”

  “Lonely.” He smile was sad, and her heart broke for him. He shrugged, looking self-conscious as he added. “I’ve thrown myself into my work, so it’s been good for
business.”

  His voice told her he’d prefer having her around, instead of the time for extra work, but was trying to find something positive to say. She understood, though, as she’d done her best to keep busy, too. She returned his smile, hoped it looked friendly, and said, “Yeah, I’ve finished a lot of paintings and they’ve helped me work through some emotions, I think. And I’ve had more graphic jobs lately, which has been nice for my bank account. Between that and this, I’m planning to turn my notice in at the cafe. You can go back if you want. I’m sorry I kind of kicked you out. It was wrong.”

  “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

  She stopped and looked around, saw no one paying attention to their conversation, and said, “Look, I’m sorry I freaked. Okay? I’ve done a lot of reading and research, joined an online site and talked to people about...” She stopped, not ready to say it out loud. “I’m sorry I freaked.”

  “Will you go out with me again?”

  He didn’t try to disguise the hope in his eyes, and she wanted to fall into his arms. She needed to mend the rift between them, but the best she could do at the moment was meet his gaze and say, “Yes.”

  He looked surprised. And happy. And then nervous. “Ah, I have a bit of a confession to make, then. The extra graphics jobs have been through one of my companies. Timothy’s in charge of the project, but I pointed him to your web site and suggested he give you a try.” He sped up, speaking the last part quickly, so he tripped over his words. “It’s been all you since though; he’s loved your work.”

  She smiled. “Thanks for being honest. He’s paid my standard charges; if he’d overpaid I think I’d feel weirded out. But you didn’t have anything to do with this, right? The gallery? It sounds like you know Magnus.”

  He looked a bit guilty again as he said, “Yes and no. He was in Chattanooga for one of my parties and I recommended he take a walk through a local gallery while in town, as I’d seen some good stuff. I promise you that’s all I did; he chose you once he went in and looked.” He paused and added, “Magnus doesn’t like being led. If I’d told him your name he’d have probably ignored your work on principle.”

  It matched with the story Magnus had given her, though she hadn’t realized the gallery owner’s “friend” was Travis. Still, she decided to believe them. Her artwork was selling tonight and she had no reason to doubt it was speaking to people. She was smart enough to know having your work suggested was only the first step; if it wasn’t good then bringing it to the attention of the people who mattered wouldn’t help.

  Travis interrupted her thoughts. “Can I take you out to eat when this is over?”

  She shook her head. “I rode with Papa Bear. Can I get a rain check?”

  “I’m sure he can drive himself home without you. Or he can stay in one of my guest rooms if he wants to go back in the morning. I can call the lobby and tell them to let him in.”

  “I won’t ask him to do that, Travis. He drove me down and has taken care of me and it’d be rude to dump him and make him drive back by himself.” She met his eyes, hoping he’d see her feelings and believe her. “I’m not turning you down; I’m just saying I can’t tonight. We’re planning to leave around nine, which should have us home before midnight. If you want to pick me up for breakfast tomorrow morning, I’m good with that.”

  “You’re serious? What time can I pick you up?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe nine? Or later, if you want, as long as we beat the church crowd for lunch.”

  He smiled. “I’ll be there at nine.”

  Papa Bear walked up and held his hand out. “Well, hello Travis. How’ve you been?”

  They shook hands and did the niceties and Papa Bear said, “Cara, why don’t you mingle while we talk?”

  Something in his tone of voice made her say, “It’s okay. I’m good with him being here. You don’t have to run him off.”

  Papa Bear smiled. “Good to know. Go mingle.”

  Cara decided to just go with it, so she walked around and talked to people again, thrilled so many seemed to like her work. More and more of her pieces sported sold tags, and a gentleman asked if she’d consider commissioning for a painting along the same theme as the briar piece, something showing similar emotions with a different subject matter.

  A few minutes before nine o’clock, Magnus thanked the artists for their participation, saying he’d remain open another hour but no one expected them to stay so late. He handed the four artisans an itemization of what had sold and for how much, and Cara’s list put her in a very good mood.

  Travis had left a while earlier so it was just her and Papa Bear walking out the door together. She was tired but energized, and everything would’ve been perfect with the world if her feet hadn’t hurt.

  “Travis invited you to dinner tonight?”

  “Yeah, but I said no. He’ll pick me up in the morning for breakfast, instead.”

  “Don’t turn him down on my account. I appreciate you didn’t want me driving home alone, but it’s fine.” He gestured across the street. “He’s parked over there. If you want to go with him I’ll put you into his car and then stop by a bar where my friends hang out for a while before heading home.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I don’t know what happened, but you’ve been miserable since your date with him. Your art has benefited because the angst shows through in your work, but I hate to see you like this. I want the sunshiny Cara back, and I’ve been tempted to staple your car keys to you a few times. You’re more absent-minded than ever. Again, good for your art, but not so much for your outlook on life.”

  She couldn’t disagree with anything he’d said, and she’d gotten on her own nerves with her keys. “Okay then, let me get my makeup bag and purse from your car and I’ll go with him.”

  “As bad as your feet hurt? Go on over to him; I’ll bring them to you.”

  She smiled and didn’t argue as she turned and walked towards Travis’ car. This one was an adorably wicked black Porsche — the shiny dark paint reflected the city lights and the whole package was downright bad.

  Travis stepped out and looked wary, as if afraid she’d be angry with him for still being there.

  “It’s okay, Papa Bear told me he’s fine seeing some friends in town before driving home. He’s bringing my purse.”

  He looked so relieved, Cara almost felt guilty. Was he really so worried about her reaction? She’d have to try to make it up to him and help him not be so nervous.

  “I was afraid I’d jinx things by getting reservations before you agreed. Let me make a phone call, maybe we’ll actually make it to the restaurant tonight.”

  Papa Bear walked up and handed over her things. He eyed Travis’ car, then gave the younger man a deliberate look as he said, “Take care of her, and drive safe.” Turning back to Cara, his face relaxed into a gentle smile. “Keep me updated so I don’t worry.” His smile turned playful as he added, “I don’t need to know what you’re doing, just that you’re safe.”

  She smiled and stepped to him to give him a hug. “Of course, Papa Bear. Thanks for worrying about us. And thank you so much for helping me negotiate with Magnus last month, and then navigate everything today. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

  He looked embarrassed. “It’s what I’m here for.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Yes, I know it’s your job, but you do so much more than I think anyone expects. You care about us, and it shows. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. Have fun.”

  Chapter Ten

  Dinner was something straight out of a fairy tale, and the conversation flowed easily between them. They talked about her art, his tech projects, and the graphic jobs she’d been doing.

  A heavyset man walked up and snapped their picture while they ate, and a manager quickly escorted him out. The restaurant owner apologized profusely before the manager had the man out the door, offering to provide their dinner free, but Travis smiled and s
aid, “Nonsense, these things happen. If you could just help us with our exit when it’s time to go?”

  Once the owner and manager left them alone, Travis looked at Cara apologetically, placing his hand over hers as he said, “I’m sorry, but it appears the paparazzi have noticed I’m on a date. I don’t know how many’ll be outside the restaurant, but try not to look at them, and don’t say anything. They’ll bring the car as close to the door as they can, and I’ll walk you to the passenger side and put you in.”

  Her stomach dropped to her feet. “Am I going to be all over the gossip sites again?”

  He nodded. “I’m afraid so. The restaurant won’t take any new reservations until we leave, to keep anyone else from disturbing our meal. We can’t stay in here forever though, and the longer we’re here the more photographers we’ll have to face when we leave.” He sighed. “Once another picture of us together goes live they’ll assume we’ve had more than the two dates they’ve seen, and we’ll have a handful of the nosy bastards assigned to us for a while. I’m so sorry.”

  “Why do they care? I don’t get it?”

  He shrugged. “Gossip about my sex life sells, apparently. I was...” he stopped, took a breath, and started again. “I knew you wouldn’t tell them, before. You were mad, but I still trusted you. Thank you for that — for not telling my secrets. I know they never found out who you were, so they didn’t offer you anything personally, but you have to know they’d have paid handsomely for...yeah. You do remember, if someone offers you money you can come to me and I’ll match it, right?”

  She brandished her hand, brushing his comment away. “I promised I wouldn’t tell, so I didn’t.” She paused, and added, “I don’t want your money, Travis. There’s no reason you’d have to give me quiet money to get me to keep my word.”

  She put her head in her hands. “Oh, god. They’ll get it started all over again that I’m a high priced whore. Shit.”