Just Breathe (13 page)

“You should wear the grey dress.” Kennedy fumbles with a necklace clasp.

I groan. “I feel naked in that thing.”

“And you look fucking amazing in it.”

“You’re biased because you made it.”

“Of course I am. But that doesn’t make it any less true. No time to argue!”

“Fine.” I walk to my room, and throw open the closet door, and pull out The Dress. Kennedy made it a year ago, and it’s absolutely gorgeous. It’s a beautiful dove-grey silk, strapless top with a beaded detail in the centre of the neckline—which is a bit low-cut, but still beautiful. A thin belt nips in at the waist, making it look even smaller. The skirt gently flares out and ends just below the knees. It’s feminine, and flows, and is sexy, but the low cut top combined with the light-as-air fabric makes me feel naked.

But it’s what we do when a friend needs help.

Undressing, and slipping it on, I call out to Kennedy. “How much time have I got?”

“Eighteen minutes!”

Slipping a robe over my dress, I walk to the bathroom and plug in the hot rollers. There’s just enough time. I brush my teeth while waiting for the rollers to heat up, then I quickly wrap my hair around them. A few minutes to freshen my makeup, and then I walk to my room to slip on some heels. My hands move fast, transferring the important contents of my purse into a more fashionable clutch.

Unwinding the curlers, I spray a little shine serum onto the gentle curls and leave the bathroom. I twirl in front of Kennedy. “Survey says?”

“God I wish I had your build.”

“With those legs and chest? No way.”

“We’re both fabulous.” She grabs her purse.

“I think Nick will be happy with the results.”

“You think?”

“Definitely. We’re representing for the Den of Iniquity.”

“Hell yeah!” She looks out the peephole. “Cab’s here!”

Chapter Thirteen

Art is a subjective thing, but sometimes I get the overwhelming sense I’m the kid in The Emperor’s New Clothes, looking at the naked guy, when everyone else sees glorious clothes. This artist’s work is underwhelming. There was a small crowd of people nodding and whispering about how amazing her statues are, so I wandered over for a peek.

It looks like she covered stuffed animals in kerosene, lit a match, put them out with a rake, and then bronzed what was left. They confuse my eyes, but while I live with artists, I’m definitely not artsy enough to appreciate what she’s done.

I understand that she’s making a statement about something arm-flailingly deep, but I just don’t get it and suspect I never will. Concept pieces don’t appeal to me—the art should speak for itself. It shouldn’t need a big story explaining it for it to be good.

But I can’t
say
that. So when people ask me what I think, I just nod and say it’s very provocative, then ask them what they think. That’s what they’re going for; they don’t really care what I have to say. They just want me to ask what they think about everything so they can make a pedantic speech. Kennedy keeps shooting me looks from across the room, her face a perfect mask of pretention, matching those around her so accurately I have to keep looking away from her.

Snorting champagne out of your nose is considered gauche.

It’s been an hour and a half of this. The artist enters at last, running late from something or other. As we all clap and check her out, Kennedy makes her way over to me while people fawn over the artist. She’s younger than I expected, around my age, and prettier than I expected. Then again, her self-portrait was a lump of melted wax and purple painted barb-wire so I’m not shocked I didn’t have an accurate image in mind.

“Look at her.” The venom in Kennedy’s voice surprises me.

“Who?”

“Little Miss Sculptor. She’s all over Nick.”

“Well, he doesn’t seem too broken up about it.” I take in his smile as she leans into him and touches his forearm.

“Elle!”

“What? What’s the big deal?”

Kennedy shakes herself and relaxes her stiff posture. “She’s using him to get shown. I mean, look around, Elle. She’s not here on the merit of her talent, if you catch my drift.”

“Do you think that Nick and her did something, and that’s how she got her show?”

“No. Nick doesn’t have that kind of power, you know that.”

“Yeah, and he’s not the type.”

“No, he’s not.” Kennedy sighs. “But it’s still annoying that she’s hanging all over him. It’s called Self-Respect, honey. Look it up.”

“Have you eaten anything? Only you’re a tad...”

“Bitchy?”

“You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well. Walk with me.” She leads me toward the food table where some appetizers are set up.

“When can we get out of here?” I whisper out of one side of my mouth, being ultra subtle. “My feet are killing me.”

“Yeah, you’ve had a long day, haven’t you? Soon. We’ll stay a bit longer for Nick, then get out of here.”

“Hey!” An arm is slung over my shoulder.

“Hey, Nick.” I wrap my arm around him. “Looks like things are going well.”

“Seriously well. Auburn is here at last. You guys should meet her, she’s so refreshing.”

“I bet she is.” Kennedy takes another sip of champagne.

“And we’re getting a substantial donation from a patron. The donation is earmarked for promoting local artists shows, which is awesome. Generate more revenue for them, more exposure, you know?”

“Sounds awesome. Who are they?”

“Another rich housewife with nothing better to do than spend her husband’s money?” Kennedy sneers.

Meow. She’s really feeling protective of Nick and the gallery tonight.

“No.” Nick’s tone is a bit belligerent. “
His
name is Jareth Williams. He’s a very wealthy something-or-other. His foundation has done amazing things for the arts in the city. Music too, not just art. You should appreciate that, Ken.”

Jareth Williams? Oh my god! Mister I-write-in-library-books will be here in the flesh. I cannot wait to meet him. Suddenly my sore feet are forgotten.

“Oh, I appreciate a lot of things,” Kennedy says. “I
appreciate
things you don’t even seem to see.”

“Such as?”

“When people are trying to use you to get what they want.”

“Assuming I don’t like it. Maybe I admire that she sees something she likes and goes for it.”

Whoa.

“That’s not who you are, Nick.” Kennedy shakes her head.

“Well, maybe you don’t really know me.”

“Nick,” I start, but he kisses my cheek.

“Thanks for coming tonight, Elle. I really
appreciate
it.” And he stalks off.

“What the hell just happened?” I watch him bee-line for the artist.

“He’s being so stupid. We’re only looking out for him, but he doesn’t want to see that.”

“Yeah, he really took it personally.”

“Talk about shooting the messenger.” She slaps her empty champagne flute down on the table and digs in her purse. “Come on, Elle. We’re obviously not wanted around here.”

Damn it, no! “But Jareth—”

“Who?” Her face is a little stormier than I’m used to. My desire to scope out Jareth pales in comparison to Kennedy’s desire to get out of here.

“Never mind. Let’s go.” I snag another cheese puff and follow her out the door.

***

She gets more sullen by the minute, but I don’t know what to say. I guess Nick was kind of a dick about her trying to warn him, but she’s definitely overreacting. She keeps sighing, which fills the cab with stale champagne breath. Maybe she just drank too much. It wouldn’t be the first time—she’s better suited to smoking pot than drinking. Having not eaten after work, except for a few cheese puffs at the art show, I’m feeling a bit lightheaded. I crack a window and lean my forehead against the cool glass.

We pull up to the house, Kennedy pays the driver, and we get out.

“Thanks for leaving with me,” she says as we head up the sidewalk. “I know I overreacted, but he was being such a dick.”

“Yeah, he was. It’s cool, I’m starving anyways.”

“Want to order pizza and have a girl’s night? Watch some bad movies.”

I throw my arm around her shoulders. “It’s like you’re inside my head.”

Chapter Fourteen

The next night, my phone vibrates. Call ID flashes Dominic’s number, and I answer it on the third buzz, trying to seem casual.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Elle. I know this is incredibly short notice, but are you free tonight—and inclined for a late night? I know it’s presumptuous to ask, but—”

“No, I’m free. What did you have in mind?”
Squee!

His silence says it all.

“Another surprise.”

“Yes. You still interested?”

I’ll never tell him this, but I’m starting to like surprises. “Oh, I suppose.”

“Great! I’ll pick you up at eleven tonight. Wear something warm.” His voice strokes my insides, and I resist the urge to moan.

I wait until my hormones are under control. “Okay. See you later.”

“Bye.”

Maybe I should stick to texts with him—his voice does completely unfair things to me. Unfair things that I like. Give me my sin again.

He’ll be here at eleven, which gives me just under two hours to get ready. I gather some clothes and head for the bathroom. Kennedy passes me in the hallway, heading from Nick’s room. The past week since the art show has been intense, but they’re finally talking again.

“Hey. I was just asking Nick if he wanted to smoke some buds, maybe watch a movie. You in?”

“No, I’ve got to get ready for a date.”

“Really?”

“I know, it’s kind of a late one, but you know how it is.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a quick toke?”

“No, I’m good. Maybe later.”

“You’re still not smoking?”

I laugh. “Nope.”

“Okay.” Kennedy looks a bit stunned. I guess it does sort of look like a booty call, but Dominic’s not like that. I know she likes Dominic, and he’s a cool guy. Now to make myself look presentable.

Emerging from the bathroom, I’ve finished getting ready—and not a moment too soon. Dominic should be here in about five minutes. Ready to go, I’ve settled on a pair of Kennedy jeans, a soft stretchy tank top, and a large, thick, light blue sweater. I spent a bit of extra time on my hair—braiding it while wet, then blow drying it, so when I took the braids out, it flows in soft gentle waves. I don’t like using gels or hair sprays—the stiffness ruins it for me. What’s the point of having amazing-looking hair if it feels crusty?

Looping a small section around my finger, I stroke it with my thumb, letting the silky texture flow through me, and calm my too-fast heart. Dominic is going to be here soon. My knees get a bit weak at the thought of seeing him again. Hearing his voice. Feeling his touch.

The last thought nearly makes me moan out loud, so I trample down my libido, and head for the front door to put my boots on. I catch the tail end of Kennedy’s sentence.

“—weird. But to not want any at all? So unlike her.”

“Hey guys.” I smile, knotting my laces.

Nick’s busy rolling a joint. “Hey, Ellie. You going out?”

“Yup. Late date with Dominic.”

“Kennedy said. Hope he’s not just going for a booty call.”

“Nick!” Kennedy and I exclaim at the same time.

“What? I’m serious. Maybe I should have a talk with the guy—see where his priorities lie.”

“Yeah, that’s so not going to happen,” Kennedy declares. “Dominic is a good guy. I can feel it in my bones.”

“What, you know him? You’ve talked to him more?” Nick flicks the lighter and holds it to the joint.

“We talked on the phone before he asked Elle out, but other than that, no. I just have a really good feeling about this one. And he’s hot.”

“Oh, is he? So that’s all it takes? A little sweet talking from a cutie and you two just fall all over yourselves?”

I’m pretty sure Nick’s teasing, but I keep it serious. “He’s been nothing but a gentleman.” He could have ravaged me on the hood of his car at the zoo and I’d have happily gotten arrested for public indecency, but he stopped us. “And I can handle myself. Even if you don’t trust him, you should trust my judgment.”

“I suppose.” He passes the joint to Kennedy.

Headlights swipe the living room wall, and I look out the window. “It’s him!”

Nick peeks outside, squinting to see through the darkness. “Holy fuck. Is that a Maserati?”

“Yes.”

Nick flops back to the couch. “Goddamn. So he’s loaded, which means he’s probably pretentious, but I can’t fault his taste.”

With Nick suddenly playing the part of overprotective brother, I decide to get out to the car rather than have Dominic come to the house for an interrogation.

Slinging my purse over my shoulder I pull the door open. “See you later. Don’t wait up!”

“We won’t,” Kennedy trills. “Have fun.”

I’m sure going to try.

Dominic is just at the passenger side of the car. “Hey.” He opens the door for me and catches my hand to spin me around like we’re dancing. “You look great.”

“Thanks. So do you.” Good enough to eat. He’s in a thick, forest green cable knit sweater, and dark jeans, and I want to climb him like a tree. Oh my gawd, I need to settle down. He leans in for a quick hug, and I feel the tension in his body. At least he’s as keyed up as I am. We get into the car and pull away from the curb.

“Any hints?”

“You might figure it out as soon as you see where we’re going.”

“No hints then.” I’m secretly pleased that he keeps going to all this trouble. I know it’s going to end sometime, so I enjoy it while I can.

“Oh! I finished Syrup by Maxx Barry.”

“What did you think of it?”

“I really liked it. I’m not sure how much of it is actually accurate to marketing and advertizing but I enjoyed it. That whole controversy over the doughnuts was hilarious.”

“Awesome!” I sit back, feeling happy and smug, like I did something right and was validated in my recommendations for him.

“You really love recommending books, don’t you?”