Overlooked(2)(41)

“It’s not bullshit! You have no idea how important that job at Kelso’s was to me. And now I’ve lost it, all because you didn’t take it seriously.”

“Hey, I didn’t make you take your clothes off yesterday. If I remember right, you didn’t object to the idea for one second. And you sure as hell weren’t complaining by the end.”

Her cheeks turn the color of her puffy eyes. For a moment a coy smile almost graces her face, but not quite.

Skye swallows, and says, “It was a momentary lapse in judgement.”

“I don’t think it was a lapse at all. I think it was the best way I’ve ever spent a morning.”

“It cost me my first commission and my dream.”

I smirk. “You were painting a pussy, is that really your dream?”

“It was only one painting of ten! Plus he was funding a gallery showing. Now I’ve lost the commission and the show, because of you.”

“I would love to fund a show for you. Not because you’re sleeping with me, but because you’re talented.”

She shakes her head. “No. It’s best if I don’t wrap myself up in your life anymore than I already have.”

“Listen to me. The reality is, I’m going to crush Kelso in the courts. When I get through with him, he won’t have money left over to pay for gallery shows.”

“That sounds an awful lot like a pissing contest to me.”

I close my eyes. My heart is racing and my throat feels like I’m being strangled. I’m not even sure what’s going on.

“My issues with Kelso are nothing to do with you. Why can’t you see that?”

“Stop.”

“No, I will not stop. Why can’t you see how much you mean to me?”

“I’m just another poor person you think you can order around and use.”

“You know what I think it is? I think you don’t want to see it. Fuck, twenty-four hours ago your toes were curled from my touch, and now all of a sudden you want me to leave?”

“Go. Leave. Now.” She pushes me toward the door. She’s using all her strength and I don’t want to physically resist her.

“What’s wrong with you, Skye? Why do you keep making up shit in your head?”

I cross the threshold and she slams the door shut, and the bolt snaps a second later. My entire body is numb.

“Let me back in, let me talk to you,” I say, pounding on the door.

There’s nothing, only silence.

Defeated, I drag my feet to my car and sit in it. In my daze, I can’t even turn the engine on. The only place I want to go is back inside with Skye.

I send a text.

Talk to me.

Leave me alone, I have to get on with my life.

I need you in my life.

I don’t belong in your life.

The door doesn’t open again, even after twenty minutes. Reluctantly, I switch my car on. In the slowest speed any Maserati has ever gone, I back out of the driveway.





Becoming Taylor Swift

(Skye)



Tears flow from my eyes as I bury my face in my pillow. After I sent the last text to Lawson, I turn off my phone. I don’t want to read his messages. And I certainly don’t want to speak to him on the phone.

My heart is crushing in my chest, enough that I worry I might actually die. If this is what it feels like to break up with someone, then I’m glad I didn’t date in high school or college. This pain is unbearable.

I’m so angry at myself for allowing myself to date someone like Lawson. I should’ve known from the start that it was a bad idea. What is someone like me, a poor artist, ever going to offer a billionaire? It could only ever end in nothing but heartache for me.

How could I let myself get in the middle of Lawson and Kelso? To be a stupid little pawn in their billionaire game?

Lesson learned. From now on, I will stay far away from anyone who isn’t like me. If I can’t find a poor, starving artist I can identify with, then I’d rather be alone.

But that doesn’t make the pain that I’m feeling right now hurt any less.

Lying on my bed is only making things worse. There’s nothing to distract me, and right now I need to be distracted.

I drag my feet down the hall into my studio. The earrings on the tree painting is still waiting to be finished. Gordon is pressuring me for more paintings to sell, and I can easily get this finished by the end of the day for him.

After preparing all my paints and putting on my smock, I stand in front of the painting.

Nothing.

I try sitting down in front of the painting.

Still nothing.

This isn’t something I’ve experienced before. It’s a complete absence of any feeling other than hurt and pain. I can’t bring myself to touch the painting like this, I’d ruin it.