Chimera (21 page)

“You’ll find yourself again, Bastian. Don’t expect it to happen overnight. You’ve got a lifetime to redefine who you are without Sylvie.”

D
esperately needing
to change the subject, I ask, “Have you heard from Sera?”

“Nope. I really don’t get what you see in that girl. It’s so unlike you to be around inconsiderate people. Do you think she’ll show up at the exhibit tonight?”

“I hope so but if she doesn’t, she doesn’t.” I try to mask the disappointment I feel in her right now. This had the opportunity to create some sort of bond with Nate. She knows he’s important to me. I incorrectly assumed it would be important to her.

“Are you worried about her?”

“I’ve been worried about her but she won’t let me in to help her. She has a wall built up around that part of her life. I’ve tried chipping away at it but whatever she’s chasing she guards heavily behind those bricks.”

“You think she’s being abused don’t you?”

My eyes fill with tears. I nod, not because I think someone’s hurting her but because I know it beyond a shadow of a doubt. The thought of losing another woman I love is unbearable. The thought is always lurking in the back of my mind. I know she wants to be happy, cherished, loved, and cared for; I know I could be all of those things if she would allow me to be. I’ve never expressed these thoughts to her, never acknowledged how deep my feelings for her go. Whether it’s fear of rejection or just uncertainty, I haven’t. If I knew it would make a difference, I would put myself out there and risk everything to love again, but the uncertainty of her reaction keeps me quiet. Maybe it’s more than that. For years I’ve believed I would never be happy again because I thought it wasn’t a possibility without Sylvie. The notion that it could all just be a lie I’ve told myself breaks me as much as the reality that I could find joy again. I would have to admit I’ve wasted so many years barely surviving, but even worse would be the acknowledgement Sylvie wasn’t the end all. Somehow that would negate or diminish what I believe she was to me.

I no longer choke on the pain I’ve felt for so many years when her name comes up or a memory surfaces. Maybe Nate’s right. Maybe there’s the possibility she was only coming to me in my dreams to remind me I was still alive. Maybe she’s at peace that I no longer need her the way I have in the past. It’s entirely possible her image, her visits, they were all manifestations of my subconscious to keep me from committing suicide

“Bastian?”

Startled, I murmur, “Huh? Yeah. Sorry.”

“Where’d you go?” The worry on his face tears me apart. He endured hell to ensure I made it to see the sun set and rise again the next morning. “Sylvie?”

I have to swallow the lump in my throat before answering. “It doesn’t happen much anymore but when it does it hits hard.”

“I can only imagine.” He allows me to ponder for a few more minutes. “You ready to go in and see if this guy needs anything for tonight?”

I answer his question by opening the car door in Le Musee’s parking lot.

A
aron loves Nate
, as does everyone who ever comes into contact with him. Jokingly, he asks Nate if he happens to be an artist he can book to come back with me. “Nope, just the errand boy for this bitch,” he says, slapping me so hard on the back I almost fall over.

It’s easy to see why people naturally fall for him. He has such an easy-going personality, always willing to help, and would give a stranger the shirt off his back. I’ve seen him do it. I don’t deserve him as a friend. Hell, most people don’t. As we’re tying up what little there is to do in order to prepare for tonight, Aaron asks me, “Is Ferry bringing that girl to the show tonight?”

Puzzled, I’ve never seen Ferry with anyone in particular. I know he spends a good bit of time in the city so maybe Aaron has seen him with someone. “I don’t think he’s bringing anyone.”

“I’ve seen him out around town a couple times the last couple of days with a girl but I haven’t really gotten much of a look at her so I couldn’t begin to describe her. Both times I’ve seen them she appeared to be inebriated and he appeared to be less than pleased.”

“Sorry, Aaron. I don’t have a clue who it would be. Ferry keeps to himself. Our relationship is work oriented. We don’t hang out much.”

“Understood. See you tonight.”

I
n the blink of an eye
, we’re back at Le Musee, arriving much earlier than I did last night. There’s a crowd waiting outside. The man at the door recognizes me, and pulls me through the swarm of people all dressed to the nines like I have a security detail. It’s a blur as woman grab at my tux, my hand, trying to pull me into them. The guy suddenly turns into two with Nate taking up the rear, surrounding me. The security guys are effectively blocking me off. The attention completely disorients me, and, once inside, Aaron apologizes profusely.

“What’s to apologize for, Aaron?” I feel like a damn rock star. Even if I don’t sell a damn thing this weekend that hundred-foot walk up the sidewalk made me feel like a million bucks.

“I should have been better prepared. There are a lot of women out there hoping to meet you, not because they’re art fanatics, but because they’re single.”

“I don’t follow.” I really don’t. Who cares if they’re single?

Nate roars in laughter. “You’re wasting your breath, Aaron. Bastian has never seen it and never will. Women can lick the sweat off his arm and he assumes they’re thirsty. He’s only had eyes for one woman, well two now, but he truly is oblivious to his appeal.”

I give him a cross look and he shrugs his shoulders as if to say, “you know it’s true.”

“I won’t lie, Aaron. That felt pretty freaking good. I’m an artist, not an MMA fighter. Women don’t flock to me.”

“There was a huge write-up on you and Ferry in the paper this morning and a blip on the news last night. Not only were both of your pictures shown, the reporters kindly announced you’re both single, and your estimated net worth.”

“My what?” I laugh. I have no worth. “My net worth? They told all these women I’m broke?”

“Bastian has no clue what his financial situation is. Ignore his stupidity.” Nate smacks me up side the back of the head.

“What the fuck, man?” I laugh because he’s right. Nate has always taken care of mine and Sylvie’s finances. He’s into wealth management; I figure it is better to let him do what he’s good at. “I have financial worth?”

“You two are a mess. If the news reporters are correct, yes, you have substantial worth, as do your paintings. Sadly, there are none remaining for sale for the public but they’ll get to see what you brought.”

“Seriously?”

“Sold out last night. I thought Ferry told you. It happened before he left. He asked continuously about sales, I assumed he was sharing the information with you.”

“I’m blown away. Completely. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to selling out a show.”

“I can sell anything you’re ready to let go of.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“He’s got a ton of paintings at home. Do you ever do any type of online sales events?”

“I haven’t in the past but I would certainly be open to giving it a shot. As hot as he is people don’t seem to care about seeing things in person. They just want the work.”

“Great. I’ll get some shots to you and give you my contact information. Let’s see what we can get working. It would be a great way for you to give people here tonight an option to get one of his paintings. It would bring a lot of traffic to your website as well.”

They’re talking as if I’m not standing here and like Nate is my manager, or my pimp.

“Let’s talk more later. We’ll absolutely move forward with this if Bastian’s in agreement.” I shrug my shoulders. I don’t care if they want to pimp me like a street hooker. Marketing has never been my strong suit so if someone else wants to do the work, I don’t mind paying a commission.

The crowd gets loud again with the announcement of Ferry’s arrival. Thank God he’s on time tonight. I think Aaron might have had a complete meltdown if forced to deal with Ferry’s inconsiderate ass two nights in a row. Thankfully, he’s also alone. Once inside, Aaron gives us a couple minutes to get a glass of wine, mentally preparing for the onslaught of single women decked out in their finest trying to woo a man.

As the flock files in I realize I have no idea how Sera is getting here, or if she’s even coming. “Any idea how Sera’s getting here tonight?” I ask my trusty sidekick.

“None.”

Nate doesn’t leave my side, hanging on like he’s my co-pilot. He knows I don’t have a clue what to do with women flirting. If they had a true interest in art, I’d be able to talk to them all night, but those are few and far between in this crowd and are primarily men with a trophy on their arm. I welcome their distraction from the flirtatious crowd, attempting to draw them in to longer conversations. There’s a fantastic couple who flew in from a little town outside Paris. Their intention was to be here last night but with travel issues were unable to make it. Serious collectors. I’m astounded to learn they purchased
Black Clutch
by phone moments after the show opened last night. They’re just now seeing it.

The woman squats in the most feminine fashion, ignoring her husband and myself. Touching the painting is normally highly frowned upon (but since she owns it, she can do whatever she wants to it). She traces the shapes of the lady’s dress, working her way up the folds of her oil painting fabric. Reaching the clutch, she stops for an extenuating amount of time on the buckle. Turning to her husband with tears in her eyes, she cries, “Felipe, regardez le pont de l’amant à Paris.” She points to the square forming the clasp on the clutch.

Taking note of what she sees, he turns to me. “We got engaged on that bridge so many years ago. I can’t believe she found that image among the hundreds on the portrait. It’s perfect for us and our collection.”

“I’m glad. Nothing thrills me more than a piece of my art touching someone else’s life. The piece seems to belong to your wife.”

The room stops moving or maybe just my world does. I know the instant Sera arrives. Her laugh calls my attention away from Felipe and his wife, and I excuse myself to find her. By the door, she’s talking to Aaron, enchanting him as she does everyone she comes in contact with. It never ceases to amaze me how elegant she is in these settings and how casual she is in any other, both making her exactly who she is.

“Aaron, I see you’ve met Sera.” Taking her hand, I kiss the top before she brings me in, kissing each cheek.

“Sunshine.” Her voice is as warm as the rays of light she calls me by. I beckon her to twirl for me with the raise of her hand. Stunning. The gown she has on, a deep eggplant color, is a Dupioni silk-type fabric, off the shoulder, and highlights her beautiful neckline. It has long sleeves down to her wrists, and the dress hangs on each curve as though the design was around her. Where it reaches the floor, just the tip of her manicured toe peeks out occasionally. Her jewelry is simplistic as always; she’s wearing a pearl necklace and earrings. It’s nothing ostentatious—understated elegance. Her hair pulled back into a loose bun at the base of her neck exposes her long, thin neck. I’d love nothing more than to pepper her exposed shoulder with kisses. She must sense what I’m thinking as her cheeks blush the softest pink on her fair skin.

“I’m so glad you could make it. I wasn’t sure you’d be here.”

“Nate’s so dramatic. I wouldn’t miss this for the world. I’m so proud of you, Bastian.”

All thoughts of irritation with her behavior vacate with the slightest smell of her barely-there perfume. With the soft smile and the way she calls me Sunshine, the moment she speaks she has me enraptured. I wish I thought she felt the same.

With her arm in mine, I escort her to meet the few people I’ve gotten to know in the last couple of days worth talking to, stopping to look at the work. Her movements are slower than normal, she plays it off as gazing at the art but there’s literally nothing new for her to see. She picked every one of my pieces that hang in this gallery. I can’t prove it and certainly won’t ask right now but by the way she’s moving and the dress she chose, she’s hiding bruises or something worse. The dress is stunning, yet it covers everything but her shoulders. She winces when she takes a long stride. It’s brief, so, had I been looking at anything other than her face, I would’ve missed it.