Desperate Measures

by Elle Casey

  A girl in a serving uniform walked by and Brent waved her down, taking two flutes of champagne off her tray to give to the girls before taking one for himself.

  “His name is Sebastian Buisson. Come. I’ll introduce you.”

  Brent took Kiki by the elbow and steered her across the room. She looked over her shoulder, making sure Elizabeth was still behind her. Her friend was looking at some of the pieces hung on the white walls and lit by overhead lights, nodding in appreciation.

  “I don’t think I’ve heard his name before. Is he new?”

  “He’s been in France for the past ten years. This is his first showing here.”

  “Is he French?” asked Kiki.

  “No, he’s American. But I think he’s spent a lot of time there. I seem to recall someone mentioning that he has a French parent.”

  Brent was leading them over to a small cluster of people who were surrounding a guy with dark, wavy, brown hair, long in a careless fashion, wearing pointed shoes, black pants and a black top. If Kiki believed there were vampires in the world, she’d suspect him immediately. He was good-looking, in a foreign guy kind of way. This guy had to have some European blood in him, maybe even the aristocratic kind. His cheekbones and chin were fabulous.

  “Excuse me, Sebastian?” said Brent, nodding his head in apology to the three people he was obviously interrupting by coming over to make his introductions.

  “Yes, Brent, hello.” The strangers faded away leaving the four of them alone. Kiki could sense just a hint of an accent in Sebastian’s speech.

  “I want you to meet two ladies I invited here tonight. This is Kiki.” He waited for them to shake hands. “And this is … Elizabeth, right?”

  “Yes,” she said, shaking Sebastian’s hand.

  Kiki could tell Elizabeth had just gone from cool as a cucumber to as nervous as Aimee had been on her first date-after-divorce, in a split second. Interesting. Time to make my exit.

  “So … where’s the popcorn?” Kiki asked.

  Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. She stuttered out, “Surely you don’t need popcorn already? It’s so … early in the evening.”

  “Oh, no. It’s fine. Feels like a good time for popcorn to me. I just loooove me some popcorn.”

  The two men were looking back and forth between Kiki and Elizabeth, obviously wondering what the hell was wrong with them, if the expressions on their faces were any indication.

  “I just think maybe you should wait. Your craving for popcorn might not last, and then you’ll wish you hadn’t asked for popcorn so early on.”

  “Nope. I’m sure. Come on, Brent.” She grabbed him by the arm and steered him away. “Let’s go get some popcorn.” She looked over her shoulder at Elizabeth, saying, “Enjoy the show. I’ll talk to you later.” She nearly laughed out loud at the expression on her friend’s face. Elizabeth looked like she wanted to run, but didn’t want to be rude. Her head was swiveling back and forth between Kiki and the artist. And he was just looking at Elizabeth, obvious interest in his eyes.

  Kiki could have waited to bust out the secret word, but as soon as she saw the look on Sebastian’s face when he looked at Elizabeth, she knew; she had to give them some time to sort out the sparks that had instantly started to fly. She just prayed Elizabeth wouldn’t chicken out, or that she hadn’t imagined the chemistry.

  Kiki let her hand drop from Brent’s arm, putting a few inches of distance between them.

  “I’m pretty sure there’s no popcorn here,” he said, looking at her askance. She could tell from his voice he knew something was up.

  “That’s okay. My craving’s gone.”

  Brent stopped and turned to look at her. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  Kiki smiled. “No. Are you going to show me some art?”

  Brent smiled back, and Kiki was struck again by how handsome he was. He looked … powerful. Confident, but not arrogantly so.

  “Yes. I guess I am.” He steered her over to a corner of the room. “Let’s start here. You can let me know what you think.”

  Kiki looked up to see a large canvas, at least six feet tall and nearly as wide, covered in bright splashes of color that at first looked like random markings, but after a few seconds seemed to arrange themselves into a vision of a woman, leaning over a child. “Wow. That’s pretty amazing, actually. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

  Brent leaned over and read the tag that was next to the canvas on the wall. “Mother Loves Child? That’s the title of this one. Is that what you see?”

  “Yes, exactly. I’m impressed.”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty talented. I commissioned a piece, and he just finished it.” He looked at her. “I think you’d like that one, too.”

  Kiki had moved on to the next canvas. “I probably would. I definitely like his style. He’s a bit of a tortured soul, isn’t he?” she asked, when she saw the third one. It was darker, moodier.

  Brent spoke softly at her shoulder, “I hear that he had a muse - a woman - but that she and he had a falling out. Apparently, he’s struggling now with awakening the same feelings for the work that he had back when she was in his life. I think you’ll be able to tell which are part of the post-muse period.”

  “That’s so sad,” said Kiki, almost to herself, as she looked at the next canvas. It was covered in bold strokes of midnight blues and deep greens, with dashes of burgundy and bright red in various freeform shapes. There were no figures here - just raw emotion.

  “This one really gets to me, too. After seeing some of the others and then this one, it’s kind of … jarring,” he said.

  Kiki was trying to ignore the feel of his breath on her neck as he spoke from behind her, but it was difficult. He wasn’t saying anything provocative or sexy at all, but it was making her want to lean against him anyway. He looked so proper in his expensive, tailor-made suit. She wondered what he’d look like with his hair all mussed and his shirt untucked. Even at the gym he’d looked perfectly put together. A glance down at his feet told her that he even took the time to shine his expensive Italian leather shoes. There wasn’t a single scuff on them.

  “So did you commission the piece recently?”

  “Yes. Very recently. He finished it quickly. That’s one thing I like about him; he’s not just an artist, he’s a businessman. When he has paid work to do, he prioritizes it.”

  “But aren’t you worried about having such a sad piece in your place?”

  “Oh, his commissioned work isn’t like this. I gave him a picture, not a very high-quality one either, and just asked him for his interpretation of it. It came out stunning, really. I plan to give him more work.”

  “What was it of?”

  Brent shrugged, his mind going to some far off place. “Just someone.”

  “Oh.” Probably an ex-girlfriend. I wonder if she knows her ex is a stalker.

  Kiki continued on in awkward silence with Brent at her side. They reached the end of the series of paintings at the same time Kiki finished her champagne.

  “Can I get you another glass?” he asked, taking her empty flute and putting it on a nearby table.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Popcorn?” he asked, a glint of humor in his eye.

  “Sure, if you have some,” she retorted, meeting his sass with a little of her own.

  “Well, there isn’t any here, but I know where we can get some.”

  “Is that so?”

  “If you’re not afraid. To be alone with me.”

  Kiki laughed, surprised at the turn the banter had taken. “Afraid? Please. I eat guys like you for breakfast.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Scared?” she asked.

  “Me? Maybe a little. But I like living on the edge.”

  “Fine. Take me to your supplier,” she said. “I’m just going to go say goodbye to my friend, first.” She left him to walk over to Elizabeth, freaking out a little inside at the flirting she’d started. What am I getting myself into? Do
I really want to know how this turns out? Maybe leaving it a mystery would be better.

  As she walked up to her friend, she noticed a pretty blush spreading across her cheeks. Sebastian looked just as tickled as Elizabeth did.

  “Sorry to interrupt. Brent and I are going to take off. I need some popcorn.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “You’re leaving? Oh.” She turned to the artist. “It’s been very nice speaking with you, Sebastian. Thank you for keeping me so entertained.”

  “You’re leaving? Oh, no, please stay. You haven’t even seen my work yet.”

  “No, I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can,” said Kiki. “Please. Stay. I’ll be fine. You have your own car.” She turned her attention to Sebastian. “As long as I can count on you to make sure she gets to it safely…”

  He put his hand on his heart. “It would be my pleasure.”

  Elizabeth looked conflicted, so Kiki made the decision for her. “Good. Bye, Lizzie. See you tomorrow at the gym. Eleven o’clock?”

  “Fine,” she said softly. “As long as Sebastian doesn’t mind.”

  “Not at all. I mean it. Stay and talk to me some more. These shows can be very dull sometimes. You are making it more than bearable.”

  Kiki turned to go, without waiting for Elizabeth’s next volley of misgivings. Elizabeth wanted to stay, she could tell. She and Sebastian had made some sort of connection and Kiki wasn’t going to be the one to bring it to an end.

  Brent met her at the door and opened it for her, following her out into the humid night.

  “So, where to?” asked Kiki.

  “Did you park nearby?”

  “Yep. Just over there.”

  “How about if I take you in my car and then I can bring you back later?”

  “No, I’d prefer to have my own car.”

  “So you have an escape plan?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. There was no sense in trying to deny it.

  “I don’t bite, you know.” He was smiling, not offended at her paranoia.

  “How smart would it be for me to take the word of a possible biter that he’s not a biter?”

  “Probably not very. Okay, you win. Let me walk you to your car, and I’ll drive over so you can follow me.”

  They walked until they were near her car.

  “Don’t tell me you drive the Camaro …,” he said.

  Her hackles went up. “So what if I do?”

  “Then I’m going to have to beg you to let me drive it.”

  Kiki smiled, surprised at his response. “Maybe someday. I don’t let just anyone drive it.”

  They arrived at the back of the vehicle and Brent took his time walking around it slowly, his eyes appraising its smooth lines and flawless paint job. “Wow. This thing is unbelievable. Did you buy it in this condition?”

  “Heck no. I restored it from junk.”

  His head whipped up. “No way.”

  “Yes way. Bought it from a little old lady out in the boondocks. Paid my guy to put her together piece by piece.”

  “Numbers matching?” he asked with hope in his eyes.

  “Of course.”

  He grabbed his chest. “Oh god. I think I’m in love.”

  Kiki’s heart skipped a beat. He’s talking about the car. Just relax. “I made a couple of mods. There’s A.C. and an alarm, decent stereo.”

  “So you drive this every day?”

  “Yep. I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it.”

  “I don’t blame you. I’d do it too.” He looked at the interior. “Can I sit in it?”

  Kiki shrugged. “Sure.” She unlocked the door and got in, leaning over to unlock the passenger side.

  Brent got in and sat in the passenger seat, his eyes roaming over the dashboard. He looked at Kiki when he was done with his appraisal. “I’m seriously impressed. You surprise me.”

  “Why? Because I’m a chick with a muscle car?”

  “Well, maybe that’s part of it. But the way you put this back together. I mean, except for your mods, it looks all original. Not a lot of people bother.”

  “I know. It just seemed like the right thing to do.”

  “You do that a lot, don’t you?” he asked. “Do the right thing, I mean.”

  “I try.”

  He stared at her for a few seconds more. “Where do I know you from? Other than from the gym, I mean. It’s making me crazy.”

  Kiki looked away, wondering if she should tell him the truth. “I don’t know,” she lied. “I don’t remember ever seeing you before in my life.” The lie felt wrong, wrong, wrong, but she couldn’t help herself. She was starting to like this guy, and she wasn’t ready yet for reality to destroy the good buzz she had going. He was gorgeous, smart, and loved muscle cars as much as she did - and he didn’t hang around strip clubs. What’s not to love?

  “Okay,” he said, slapping his palms on his legs and making Kiki jump. “I’ll go get my car and meet you over here. Then we’ll go to the popcorn place.”

  “I’ll be waiting,” Kiki said. She watched him get out of the car, admiring the cut of his suit and how it showed the muscles in his legs when it was stretched across them. She was going to have to get a better look at him in the gym next time. Before she’d been so busy trying to blow him off, she hadn’t taken advantage of the close proximity and better view of his physique.

  Kiki busied herself with fixing her lipstick and hair in her rearview mirror for a few seconds before looking up at the sound of an engine purring behind her. A quick glance told her what she already suspected. The guy liked fast cars.

  He was parked behind her in one of her dreams on wheels.

  She shut off her engine and got out, stalking over to his window. She stood there while he rolled it down, smiling the whole time.

  “Oh no, you are not driving an Audi R8. Get out.” She motioned with her thumb for him to leave the car. “Come on, come on. I don’t have all night.”

  He opened the door and exited the vehicle, gesturing at the seat. “Would you like to sit in her?”

  “You’re damn straight I would,” she said, feeling like she was going into mild shock. She’d drooled over this car for years, dreaming that someday, maybe, she’d get to ride in one. She never kidded herself about actually owning one. They were about a hundred grand out of her price range. She was a savvy enough investor to know that when she had a hundred grand, it needed to go into real estate or stocks - not hot cars. But, oh, how she would have loved to have one of these.

  She sat on the smooth leather seat and inhaled deeply. “Oh, God, it still smells new!”

  “Gorgeous, right?” he said, leaning in and smiling over her shoulder. “Press that.”

  She did as she was told and watched the GPS come out of the dash. “Damn. I need one of those.”

  “Want to give it a test drive?”

  Her eyes took on a mad gleam. She whispered, “Are you serious?”

  “I’ll trade you. One Audi R8 test drive for one sixty nine, numbers-matching restored Camaro test drive. One … from here to Dean’s.”

  “Dean’s?” she asked.

  “The popcorn store. Over by the mall.”

  She laughed. “You’re on. Keys are in the ignition.” She shooed him away so she could shut the door, pressing on the accelerator a bit and reveling in the roar of the engine. She paid no attention to the answering growl from her Camaro, now coming from behind her. She was too absorbed in the awesomeness of Brent’s ride.

  She tried not to giggle with mad glee as she pulled out of the parking lot and into the empty streets of downtown Orlando at nine-thirty at night. The engine purred, and she marveled at the smooth yet solid shifting mechanism she controlled with ease. The seat and pedals were in perfect position. This car was made for her.

  Ten minutes later, she pulled up to the darkened windows of the popcorn store. Brent drove up and stopped beside her, awkwardly rolling down the passenger side window. “I guess they’re closed. I know another place,
if you’re not tired of driving the Audi.”

  “Lead on!” she said recklessly. Anything to give her more time in the car. At this point she trusted him. No guy, no matter how rich or cool he was, would let just anyone drive his R8. He obviously considered her special. She just prayed he wouldn’t change his mind when he finally figured out who she really was.

  The second place offering popcorn in town turned out to be his apartment, located in a high-rise on the edge of downtown. She followed him into the underground garage and waited for him to lift the gate for her, since it closed after each car. She parked next to him in a designated guest spot. She noticed he took one with the number 2001.

  She got out of the car and waited for him to come over. They exchanged keys, and she smiled. “That was amazing. Thank you so much.”

  “I thought you’d like that,” he said, taking her by the elbow. “I got it a few months ago. I’m still not off cloud nine when I drive it around.”

  “Aren’t you worried about what people will think when they see you in it?”

  He pushed the code buttons giving them access to the lobby. “What do you mean?”

  “You know,” Kiki said, trying not to be too impressed with all the marble and glass around her. “That you’re overcompensating.”

  “I never worry about that kind of thing,” he said, in a dangerously low voice - dangerous because it was laced with a seductive tone that seemed to pull out emotions from her that she wasn’t yet willing to share. He led her to an elevator and pushed the button for the twentieth floor, inserting a key at the same time and turning it to the right.

  “Good,” she said, suddenly at a loss for words and feeling not nearly as supremely confident as she had ten minutes earlier.

  The door opened up into his condo. He had the entire floor. She had to force her mouth not to drop open at the view and the fact that she was standing in the middle of luxury like she’d never seen before except in her magazines. “Are you a drug dealer or what?” she asked, moving into the penthouse apartment to go stand at the floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the city.

  “You could say that.”