Chimera (22 page)

“Sera?” I stop to catch her and give her a moment to steady herself.

“I’m fine, Bastian. This is your night. Let’s enjoy it.” End of discussion.

Bringing it up again will only erupt in an argument and I don’t want her running off in an unfamiliar city with no one to call. I have to acknowledge, never calling her ass out on this does not help the situation; it only enables it. I’m going to have to take my balls back from her at some point and nail her ass to the wall and beat the shit out of who ever is hurting her. I can’t sit idle anymore. I care way too much about her to allow someone to hurt her. This attack had to have been really bad for her to still feel the residual effects several days later. Making mental note to address this when we’re back home, I let it go for tonight.

“Oh, I almost forgot to ask since I haven’t seen you in a couple of days. Markus Finstin is opening at The West End the week after next. Do you want to go? It’s black tie but I’m sure you can get away with your funky Chucks. Tara won’t boot you at the door.” Her smile melts my soul and warms the entire room. I could never say no.

“Seriously? How did Tara nail him? He’s huge these days. Have you seen his work?” This guy works completely with recycled materials, also known as trash.

“No clue how she got him. I thought he was international but you know she can lure the most elite. So what do you say? Dinner and art? Perfect night in my book.”

“Of course. I can’t wait.”

Out of nowhere, Ferry grabs my arm, turning me to him, and rudely dismisses Sera. “Do you have a minute, Bastian?” Turning back to her, I apologize while excusing myself. Whatever has Ferry’s snit in a snag better be good. “Why do you refuse to heed my warnings?”

“Warnings about what?” I’m in utter disbelief he is doing this here. Right now. With tons of people around. What in the actual hell is he thinking?

“Her. I keep telling you she’s bad for your image but you don’t seem to want to listen. There’s press here as there was last night. You need to keep in mind who they see you with and what will be portrayed in papers or on news feeds.”

My smart-ass mouth takes a front seat, sick of his attitude. “Oh, so it would be better for the world to think Nate and I are gay? I should stick to him like glue, right?”

“Why do you have to stick to anyone, just mingle. Enjoy the people here.”

“Look, Ferry, I don’t know what your problem is with Sera and I really don’t care. I’m not dating her or anyone else for that matter. The press will spin whatever web they decide to tell. I would be thrilled if they portrayed me as heterosexual, regardless of the woman, but I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be proud if it were Sera. She’s a friend. You need to lighten up.”

Turning to leave, he grabs my arm with more force than I’m willing to tolerate. I may come across as mild-mannered but the fact is I’m a pretty big guy and Nate and I have gone more rounds than I can count. I always hold my own.

“This is your last warning, Bastian. Stay the fuck away from her.”

“And this is the last time I’m going to tell you, fuck off.” I jerk my arm from his grasp with exaggerated force.

Our conversation must’ve been a tad more public than I realized because Sera heard every word. Going back to her, I see tears streaming down her face. She blots at them trying to keep from destroying her makeup but every one she catches causes three more to fall. Handing her a handkerchief from my pocket, she continues to wipe at her eyes.

Unaware, or simply not caring about who’s around, I take her face in my hands, looking at her features and studying her eyes. My thumbs wipe away the few straggling tears before I kiss her forehead, and bring her into my shoulder in a hug. There are cameras flashing around me. I’m sure the press caught the moment on film. My arm still around her, I walk her to the bathroom to freshen up.

I catch Ferry watching me, giving me an evil eye. It takes everything I have to keep myself from giving him the middle finger salute but with press around, I don’t need to stir up any more than I already have.

Nate witnessed the exchange as well, which means surely there was a member of the press lurking that caught it word for word to print tomorrow. Luckily for me, I didn’t say anything disparaging…I don’t think.

“You realize you have to ride roughly twelve hours home with him, right? Probably not the best idea to piss off the driver,” Nate warns me.

“Like hell. I’m not riding anywhere with him. I’ll get Aaron to book me a flight home. I don’t really have anything other than luggage to take back anyhow.”

“I hope you haven’t just made an enemy of someone who might destroy you after he helped make you.”

“Seriously, Nate? He photographed my work; he didn’t hold my hand while I painted. I’m doing fine on my own. What the hell should I’ve done? I wouldn’t let him talk shit about you, and I’m not going to let him do it about Sera.”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine what his issue with her would be but he’s got a big mouth and can make big waves. You’re going to need to figure out how to ride them instead of being consumed by them.”

Rolling my eyes at his melodrama, I say, “Look, do me a favor and keep an eye on Sera for the rest of the night. Don’t let him get to her, please?”

“You owe me big time for this entire trip, Bastian. I don’t play babysitter to women I’m taking home to fuck, much less those I never intend to see naked.”

I
lucked out
. Aaron’s staff managed to book me a flight out, thereby avoiding Ferry. I’ll end up seeing him around town but hopefully things will have cooled off by then and we can be civil. We certainly won’t be working or traveling together again, but hopefully we can be pleasant if we run into each other. The art community is tightly knit, so neither one of us needs any more negative publicity than the press is already going to spin coming out of this trip. It was a profitable venture for both of us. I never keep tabs on the sales, but if I sold everything I took, I did really well.

The trip home is awkward. Sera’s unusually quiet, barely making eye contact with either of us. I’m not sure what happened between her and Nate last night but both of them each ignore the other using me as the middleman. Last time I checked, we’re all adults but today they both need a fucking time out. Being between two people who have no interest in speaking to one another is a royal pain in the ass. Add lack of sleep and some pretty fucked-up situations in the last couple of days and I’m just not up for dealing with their shit.

“Why don’t you take my seat next to Nate?” Aaron managed to get me on the same flight but obviously not a seat next to theirs. She doesn’t need to be flying alone. I realize we’ll all be on the same plane but I don’t like the thought of her sitting by herself.

“I’ll take Bastian’s seat, you two sit together.” Nate is forever the gentleman…at least when you set aside his surly tone.

“That won’t be necessary.” She looks away responding to thin air.

“Seriously, you two. This is asinine. What the hell happened over the last couple of days that you aren’t even on speaking terms and won’t sit next to each other on a plane but are fine with sitting next to strangers?”

Neither answer, both just glaring at the other.

“Okay, let’s try a different approach.” This is crazy. We’re sitting in an airport terminal with them acting like children and me being the rational adult. “Sera, you know, Nate freaked out when you left the hotel and essentially disappeared. I appreciate you’re an adult free to do what you want but common courtesy is to tell your roomie if you’re returning or not. Why don’t you apologize to Nate for being inconsiderate and let’s move on.”

“Inconsiderate? Are you kidding me? I don’t answer to Nate or you for that matter. I went out. Big freaking deal. I’m single and in my twenties. If I want to stay out all night, I can.”

Nate is fiercely protective but can’t stand ignorance. “Yes, inconsiderate. We’re in a strange city where people are mugged and raped daily. All you had to do was say you were meeting someone or going out with a friend. Anything would have been better than disappearing from a goddamn bar with God knows who.”

“Grow up, Nate. I’m not the innocent little wallflower you think I am. I can handle myself in a big city.”

“Oh, just not at home?” He snaps back at her. Their voices are getting louder with each exchange. I probably should try to stop it but in my estimation this is the only way either of them is going to let it go, to get it out.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” She sits straight up in her seat, staring him down, daring him to keep going. He’s never one to back down from a challenge.

“Lift up your sleeves and I’ll show you.” Further confirming what I assumed last night when she was walking so gingerly, I discern that she was hurt recently and he saw the evidence for himself.

He took it too far. “Nate,” I growl, warning him to shut up. I’ve never divulged any information to him but you’d have to be a fool to miss the signs of abuse covering her body most days. No one’s that clumsy.

Sera directs her attention to me. “Have you been feeding Nate the bullshit you think you know something about?”

“First of all, no. I haven’t talked to Nate, or anyone else, about anything personal I’ve discussed with you. Secondly, you need to draw in your stinger. The only reason people get so upset seeing you black and blue is because they care about you. Nate included.”

“You don’t get it, Sera. You think you know Bastian really well. You guys are tight, right?” She gives him the obligatory nod. “What you don’t know, what you haven’t taken into consideration, is, I
will not
tell him another woman he cares for is gone. I refuse to try to clean up that mess again. This one has taken almost six years.
Six years
, Sera. So while you have every
right
to do what you want as a grown woman, you need to think about who you’re implicating in your immature hysteria. If these are the games you want to play, do it on your own time, not on my fucking watch.”

Stunned, she turns to me with tears in her eyes, threatening to fall. She’s silent, watching my face for an unseemly amount of time before acquiescing. “I’m sorry, Bastian. He’s right.”

“It’s not me you need to apologize to. I wasn’t aware any of it was going on. I was living my own hell at the time.”

Her submissive nature takes over and, with her eyes cast downward, she apologizes to him. I don’t think she’s apologizing for her behavior but more so the position she potentially put him in and how he must have felt wondering where she was for hours. But that’s just my own speculation since the only two words she utters are, “I’m sorry.”

Things are quiet until they call for boarding. No one says anything else about who is sitting where so I assume we’re all sitting in our respective seats. The rest of the trip home is uneventful. By the time we reach our connecting flight in Atlanta, they’ve obviously kissed and made up.

Nate drops Sera off first and sets her suitcase on the sidewalk. She hugs us both goodbye and says, “Don’t forget Markus Finstin a week from Friday, Bastian!” She waits for us to leave before moving toward her house. I turn in the seat to watch her and wonder what lurks inside her home she’s so unwilling for anyone else to be a part of.

S
era’s presence
since New York has been sparse at best. Her texts are almost cryptic but as infrequently as they’re coming it’s hard to decode what’s said. The longer she’s away the darker things get for me. I’m not accustom to going days without seeing her or hearing from her. She’s just as integral a part of my life as Nate. I recognize how macabre my art is with just a couple of days of her absence, and Nate has pointed out, several times that I’m borderline stalking her.

I’m not following her around but my attempts to ensure her safety include passing by her house, her studio, and the cafe she loves so much. When I see her, I stop to watch and make sure nothing is amiss. I catch a glimpse of her here and there but without getting close, I can’t tell much about how she’s doing, although it appears she lost weight. It’s only been three days since I’ve seen her and we’re going to the Finstin opening next Friday, but somehow she looks gaunt, as though a strong wind could take her away.

The customary five-thirty knock comes. I don’t bother getting up knowing he’ll let himself in. I never have figured out why the gangly motherfucker knocks to begin with. Seeing me on the couch, he stops and closes the door behind him. “Damn, Bastian. Are you back to this?”

Sitting on the couch in jeans with no shirt is not my norm. “Back to what?”

“You sitting around while life passes by.”

“Nah, I just got out of the shower. I’ve been working all day.”

“Really, how many trips have you made by Sera’s today?”

“Fuck off.”

“What are you working on?”

I point him in the direction of the painting.

“Jesus Christ. This is dark.”

“Not all of life is love and roses, Nate.”

“Yeah but it isn’t emaciated women on death’s doorstep, either. This is almost grotesque. Her skin is barely hanging on her bones, her breasts look like a ninety-year-old woman’s, and if that’s what a woman’s pussy looks like at that age, I’m not interested in making it to my later years.” He turns his nose up but it evokes emotion, just not the emotion he normally feels when he sees my work.

I shrug. “Just trying something new.” It’s a lie, and he knows me better than to believe that shit, too. He’s going to call me out in, three, two, one—

“Bullshit. This is all about Sera going off the grid since we got back from New York.”

“I don’t get it. I didn’t do anything to her. She doesn’t know about anything that happened that night. She was mad at you but that rift seemed to be mended by the time we took off. So why’s she avoiding me?”

“Bastian, why do you think I’ve never gotten married?”

“Because women are afraid having your offspring will rip them in half?” I give him a shit-eating grin to tell him I’m fucking with him.

“No, asshat. Because women are fickle. They’re like fashion. Their style changes with the season and what’s selling. For whatever reason, something besides you has her attention. Who cares?”

“I do. I’m worried about her.”

“So call her and ask her what’s up.” His world is always so much more simplistic than reality.

The truth is I’ve tried and if she answers the call is brief and her response is very short. Usually she just doesn’t pick up. My mind goes wild when she doesn’t answer, knowing she’s not answering because he’s there and either won’t let her or it’s not worth the pain she’ll endure if she does. Each unanswered call triggers a trip by her house or out looking for her, just to know she’s all right. It’s all in vain really. I rarely see her; her car parked at her house is meaningless. The curtains are always shut and unless it’s dark outside, I can’t tell if she’s even there. If she’s at the studio, that, too, is meaningless. It’s just a sighting of an automobile because I can’t go in to ensure she’s breathing. The only time I get any real comfort is if she’s sitting on the balcony at Rulatta’s, and that only happened once. Two days ago.

I’m sleeping less, obsessing more. Whoever this guy is has known about me from the start but never had any issue with us spending time together. It’s obvious she’s only talking or responding to me when he isn’t around. The more time that passes the more I realize he’s with her round the clock. At least the last few days he has been. Ever since we got back from New York. She never told me what she had been doing when she disappeared from Nate. Hell, maybe this man knows the truth and has put some sort of restrictions on her.

My guess is her relationship with him is nothing like mine with Zane, who I have effectively avoided since my return. I told him I wanted out. He didn’t listen, so I figure he can deal with whatever bullshit I throw at him until I’m ready to move forward. He can’t punish me, unlike Sera who pays the price often. I keep telling myself to give her some space. I’ll see her next week and I can talk to her then when I know she’s safe, but I’m starting to wonder if she’ll show for Finstin.

Each day that passes, I hear less from her. She quit answering her phone altogether and texts are one-word answers. At least three times a day, I drive by her house, the nighttime visit being the most important. With lights on, if I wait long enough, I can usually see her move in front of a window. I don’t get to see her per se, but I can see she’s okay enough to walk and there doesn’t seem to be any foul play. Sitting outside her house, there are no other cars in the driveway but I haven’t seen her near a window, either. I text her.

Me
: We still on for Finstin on Friday?

I don’t have to wait long for her response, which is encouraging.

Sera
: Of course.

Me
: Great! What time do you want to swing by?

Sera
: I’ll be at your house at 6pm

I take a chance and send her one more message.

Me
: Can’t wait. I miss seeing you.

She never responds.

The last interaction of any kind I had with her was Tuesday. Her car hasn’t moved in days. There’ve been no lights on at night.
Worried
doesn’t even begin to describe what I’m experiencing. Something isn’t right, but, without a response, there’s little I can do to help her.