Pressing my forehead against hers, I say, “Listen to me. You have an insane amount of talent. You will get discovered, I promise you.”
She sighs. “I’ll never get discovered if I run out of money and starve to death.”
“Why will you accept help from Ava but not me?”
“Ava’s different — she’s a fellow artist.”
“Oh yeah, what does she paint?”
“She’s a professor of art history.” Her voice sounds exasperated, but I’m not stopping now.
“So she’s not an artist, she’s a teacher? And you’ll accept her help but not mine?”
“She’s still in the art community. You run hotels, that’s nothing to do with art. The only reason you’d offer my help is because I let you in my pants.”
“There’s nothing legit a hotelier could do to help you?”
Her lips tighten. “Nope. I keep saying, I’ll only take help from within the art community.”
“And Kelso.”
“That’s a commission.”
“But I’m not allowed to commission something from you?”
“I thought we were dropping this subject.”
“Fine.” She’s getting annoyed, so I drop it. I don’t know what pisses me off more: her not accepting my help, or knowing what her parents did to her.
Rumbled
(Skye)
Damn, I realize I didn’t text Ava to say I wouldn’t be home. Either Friday night or last night. I dig out my phone and text her.
It hadn’t been my intention to stay over for one night, let alone two. But Lawson gave me no choice, he was impossible to walk away from.
And it’s not just his touch. We stayed up late every night, talking and laughing until we fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion. I’ve never felt so connected to anyone.
Throwing myself into my art at such a young age meant I never bothered much with friendships. In college I was at least surrounded by lots of likeminded people, and I count them as good friends, but our connection was always art.
With Lawson, the connection is much deeper. It’s about me and him and nothing else.
By the end of the second evening, I realized how silly I was being, thinking his money would’ve turned him into a bad person.
Especially after everything he told me about his charity and his childhood. I can’t imagine how hard it is to lose both your parents so young, and so suddenly, but to also have to drop out of school and support your sisters is heartbreaking.
We’re sitting eating the breakfast that Lawson made, again without even letting me help. It’s a clear, bright morning and sunlight pours through the breakfast room window. A beam of light illuminates Lawson’s tattooed arm, the Laughing Cavalier image in particular.
“So, why the Laughing Cavalier?” I have to ask. “I mean, most people go for a Monet or Van Gogh, you have to be pretty arty to know of Frans Hals.”
“I like the look on the smug bastard’s face.”
“He reminds you of you?”
“Very funny.”
“But how do you even know about him? Are you going to tell me you have a degree in art history or something?”
“No degree. I told you, I’m a high school dropout.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”
“When I started opening hotels in Europe, I lived in London. My place was around the corner from the Wallace Collection, and I used to go in whenever I needed to escape Kelso’s bullshit.”
“That’s it?”
“Afraid so,” he says, arching an eyebrow.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Europe to see the art collections and paint in the light of Provence.”
“Are you free next weekend?”
“What?”
“Let’s go. We can go to Provence or the Louvre in Paris, the Uffizi in Florence, your pick. I can only spare a couple of days this time, but as soon as the lawsuit’s over we can go for as long as you want.”
My heart is pounding. It’s been my dream since I was a little kid to go to Europe and see all the art. I can’t even comprehend his offer being reality. Would going make me a hypocrite? I wouldn’t want Lawson to tease me the entire time.
I can’t contain my excitement anymore. With a smile I can’t hide, I say, “I can’t imagine how awesome that would be. I mean, that’s something I’ve wanted for years, and now you’re offering it like it’s no big deal.”
Lawson reaches across the table and grips my hand. “I can’t think of another way I’d rather spend my weekend than initiating you into the mile-high club.”
“Oh, I get it now.”
“Don’t say you don’t want it.”