Shoving my shoes on, I met my mom by the front door. “Let’s go.”
My mom drove while I texted Gianna for the millionth time. She hadn’t answered me since my drunken fiasco the other night. Cece had heard the story from Gianna and told Dante, so he’d filled the gaps in my memory.
I was alternately horrified and pleased that Gianna knew I’d been messing around with another girl. How dare she fall for another guy while I was in juvie? I loved her and she broke my heart. She had no right to be upset about me hooking up with some chick, or almost hooking up as the case was.
As pissed as I was at her, I still fucking loved her. I still needed to talk to her. If she didn’t answer me soon, I’d show up at her dad’s house.
I don’t love you anymore, Caleb, she’d said.
It was impossible to convince my heart her words were true.
Gage and I have fallen in love, she’d said.
If she loved him, then she couldn’t have ever really loved me. It didn’t work that way. I couldn’t imagine falling out of love with Gianna in the first place, much less falling in love with another girl.
Impossible.
We were supposed to be forever.
It still felt like forever to me.
When another text went ignored, I sent one to Hailey. This is Caleb. Need to ask you a favor.
Her response was immediate. What?
Talk to you about it later.
You out of juvie?
Yes. Call you later.
The art gallery was in the heart of downtown. It had dark wood floors and white walls, with a few black accent walls here and there. It was set up in sort of a maze layout, with small spotlights shining on the pieces hanging. Sculptures were scattered throughout, along with several benches to rest on while admiring the artwork.
My mom introduced me to the gallery manager who met us at the front desk. Debra was around my mom’s age, wearing a tan pantsuit, with her blond hair pulled back.
Debra showed us to the back office where the gallery director and owner, Jim Doran, waited. Jim was in his early thirties and dressed more casually than Debra, in jeans and a navy polo shirt. His office was painted a bright yellow with several black and white paintings hanging on the walls. It wasn’t easy on the eyes.
He heaved himself up from behind a glass desk and came around to shake my hand. “Caleb, good to finally meet you. I’m Jim Doran.”
“Nice to meet you, Jim.”
Debra took a seat, as did the rest of us. My mom clapped her hands together. “So, now that Caleb is here, do we have a date for the show?” Her excitement was catching. Now that things had gone to shit with Gianna, I needed a distraction.
“Mid-July,” he answered. “That should give us enough time to organize it and add any new paintings the artists create.”
I suspected he referred to me painting the night of the attack. I’d been resistant, but things had changed. Gianna didn’t want anything to do with me. She loved Gage now. She probably wouldn’t even care if I painted it.
“I’ll do it,” I said.
“Excuse me?” Jim asked, leaning his elbows on his desk.
“I’ll paint the night of the attack.”
His smile widened. “Great, great. Tyler, our preparator, has stored all of your paintings so far until it’s time to set up for the show. Any work you complete before then, bring in and if I approve it, he’ll store it at the warehouse.”
“When will I meet the other artist?” It was weird to consider myself in the same category, but I’d better start doing so if I wanted respect.
“Her name is Sydney Atwood,” Debra said. “She’s twenty-two and this is also her first show. Your mom has already met her. We’ll all go out to dinner together soon to get better acquainted.”
“Have Norah book us a reservation,” Jim told Debra, who took notes on a tablet.
“Who’s Norah?” I asked.
Jim answered, “Our intern. She’s a sophomore at the University of Denver.” Jim clicked on his mouse, gazing at his computer screen. “This Wednesday all right with you?”
Having nothing planned, I let my mom decide. “That works for us,” she told them, her hands clasped together in eagerness.
“Good.” He stood up, reaching for my hand again. “See you then, Caleb, Eliza.”
Debra walked out with us. As we neared the front desk, I noticed the girl sitting behind it. “This is Norah,” Debra said. “Norah, this is Caleb and you’ve met his mom, Eliza.”
Debra jumped up, shaking my hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Caleb. I love your work.”
“Thanks,” I said, dying to get out of here to see if Gianna responded while my phone was on silent.