Better Than Safe (29 page)

I watched his progress as he fished his keys from his lightweight blue jacket, then hefted his messenger bag over his shoulder before climbing the stairs to his studio. The moment he was out of sight, I opened the paper and chuckled. It was a drawing of me sitting on my sofa at home with a deep scowl on my face, cradling a game controller in my hands. The caption read “This is bloody useless,” my mantra the previous evening when I’d lost at his ridiculous game for the umpteenth time. I picked up my cell and typed a quick text.

I look angry.

I was about to put the car in drive when my phone buzzed.

U were. Sorry to say it, but ur skills aren’t improving. Love u anyway.

I stared at the words for a long moment, then glanced up at his studio. My mouth went dry and I felt a little dizzy. Love. I reread his message. He was joking. It was an offhand, silly nothing. The word didn’t mean what I wanted it to mean. Or did it? Any worthy ad exec knew his job was to make others believe romantic notions about love, lust, and desire through perfectly chosen lush photographs of gorgeous men and women wearing beautiful clothing accompanied with genius ad copy. A phrase or even a single word to elicit the feeling that you’d do anything to capture that image in your own ho-hum life. Seeing that word flash on my screen felt… significant. Important. I wanted it to be real.

I
INVITED
at least thirty people to the exhibit. The more the merrier. I knew it was as disconcerting for an artist to show his work to an almost empty room as it was for a musician to play to a house full of empty chairs. Every artist hoped for a successful, well-attended debut. So I passed the word along to various work associates and friends. Aaron assured me that he and Matt would be there, along with his best friend Jay and Jay’s husband Peter. And I knew I could count on Curt and Jack too. I had a good feeling the space would be packed with art aficionados and general well-wishers.

Unfortunately for me, the day of the opening turned out to be one of those ridiculous days when nothing went according to plan. The art department was up in arms over a deadline we’d been forced to expedite and Helene was in rare form. She demanded a last minute meeting to gripe about unfair expectations just as a new firestorm erupted with a New York-based editor who’d been forced to yank advertisement for a brand whose outspoken CEO was affiliated with the type of scandal that incited political unrest, not sales. The director of our New York office was in Paris, and suddenly I was the appointed guru they expected to set everything and everyone straight.

By the time I left my office, I was a bona fide mess. Everything in my schedule was running a good thirty minutes behind. There was no way I’d make it to the gallery before the show started. Everyone I’d invited to attend, including my secretary, would surely be there well before me. I did my best to keep calm and navigate the congestion along Connecticut Avenue without breaking into a sweat as I headed toward Dupont Circle. There was no time to go home first to shower and change. My hopes of being there before the crowd to offer a hand or simply be there for the nervous artist were dashed.

Seth hadn’t called or texted me all day, which was for the best when I considered how horrid my day had been, but the result was I hadn’t seen or heard from him in over twenty-four hours. He hadn’t spent the night with me because he wanted to tweak a couple of his pieces. I was anxious to see him and to get my first good look at his entire collection. Hell, I was just anxious. And I bloody well hated being late.

I unclenched my jaw and peeled my white knuckles from the steering wheel when I finally came to stop in front of the valet kiosk. The view from the sidewalk into the gallery was slightly obstructed by a hanging piece of art in the large window facing the street, but I could tell it was a standing room only crowd. I grabbed my suit coat from the backseat and took a deep breath of the chilly early October evening before making my way to the entrance.

“There you are! This is amazing! I had no idea Seth was so talented!” Aaron gushed. He was holding a glass of white wine in one hand and a tiny plate piled high with cheese, crackers, and grapes in the other. “If we weren’t getting married in three weeks, we’d buy a piece for sure, right Matty?”

Matt smiled as he wrapped a possessive arm around his fiancé. “Right. Did you just come from the office? You look a little frazzled. Take this. One of the waiters just pushed it in my hand.”

I started to refuse, but a quick glance around the insanely crowded space made me reconsider. The gallery was enormous. High ceilings with exposed ducts and white walls gave the space a warehouse feel. There were a few colorful mobile pieces reminiscent of Alexander Calder hanging above, but I was more interested in the art on the walls I could barely glimpse through the masses. I took the glass from Matt gratefully and raised it in a quick toast.

“Cheers.”

“Great turnout tonight too. Oh wait!” Aaron waved at a tall good-looking man standing nearby. “Peter! Over here!” He turned back to me with a beautiful smile. “You remember Jay, right? I know you’ll see everyone at the wedding, but I have a feeling it might be as crazy as this and—”

“Oh boy. Maybe you better give that back to me,” Matt grumbled, motioning for me to pass him the wine.

Aaron rolled his eyes and handed him his own glass. “Drink up, darling.”

I chuckled as I scanned the room. I thought I saw Seth on the far side near the back of the gallery, but I couldn’t tell until I moved. I waved a brief hello to a magazine editor I recognized and someone from the agency. When I turned back to let Aaron and Matt know I was off to find the artist, there were two incredibly gorgeous men standing with them. I’d met Jay a few times, but I’d yet to meet his husband, and wow… he was stunning. Tall, dark, and GQ model handsome. A perfect contrast to Jay’s dark blond good looks and golden skin.

“Paul, you know Jay, and this is his husband, Peter.”

“Of course. Pleased to meet you.” I shook hands with both men, wishing my anxiety level didn’t hamper my ability to enjoy the eye candy.

Peter made a friendly comment about the art and the impressive turnout. I nodded in agreement as Jay chimed in.

“I have to say, it’s strange to meet someone in one context and have no inkling they lead another life. I met Seth recently when he was modeling for a photo shoot at Aaron’s magazine. I picked you up for lunch and ran into his boyfriend in the lobby a couple weeks ago. Remember, A? He looks very proud of his man tonight.”

Aaron coughed meaningfully and gave Jay a pointed look. “Actually Seth is with Paul.”

Jay cocked his head in confusion then glanced between Aaron and me. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t—I was talking to him a few minutes ago. Simon, right? I swear he said Seth and he were together. He made it sound like—I must have misunderstood.”

I started to say “don’t worry” or “yes, you simply heard him incorrectly,” but the words stuck in my throat. The room was overcrowded and humming with congenial conversation and laughter, but I shivered as an odd sense of silent foreboding stole over me. I took a sip of the white wine and was mortified when my hand shook. Aaron and Matt were talking about misunderstandings and joking about how difficult it was to hear in the overpacked gallery.

I backed away with an insipid smile. “Right… um. I thought I spotted the artist a moment ago. I should—”

Aaron squeezed my arm and grinned up at me sweetly. “Go on. He looked nervous earlier, but I think he’s doing better now. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”

I managed to say a quick good-bye to the others, but everything sounded odd and off pitch. Like the acoustics had been compromised. Or perhaps it was me. I wanted to believe I was having a rare moment of hysterical paranoia brought on by the lingering anxiety of a long day, but the truth was I felt like I’d walked through a spider web. Like an invisible mesh was stuck to my skin, sending a tingle of dread up my spine. Simon was up to something. Déjà vu. Jay hadn’t misunderstood anything. I’d done this before and remembered I hadn’t cared for the experience. I moved like a ghost through a sea of people with determined focus, wishing I were invisible. I wished I could observe the room like I might view a painting. With curiosity, but the ability to move on at will.

At the far end, near a gigantic canvas, a tight group was gathered listening to someone wax poetic about the paintings on display. It had to be the gallery owner, Harry Weltzer. Other than a passing glance, I ignored the art. Seeing Seth would calm me. Assuming he was in the middle of the group, I pushed my way forward, hoping to catch his attention and cleanse my mind of stupid worry. I breathed a sigh of relief when I spotted him.

Seth looked gorgeous. He was dressed entirely in black. Designer jeans, collared shirt, and a well-cut stylish blazer that certainly came from a couture collection. With his dark longish hair, he reminded me of a vampire. The pretty kind with good coloring, I mused. Or perhaps it was simply that he looked confident and very much in his element. He stood tall and proud next to the short balding man singing his praises. I pushed my way to the far corner wall to hear him speak. And stopped in my tracks.

Simon. My own personal spider. He stood off to the side, but close enough to give everyone the impression he was someone of importance. I’d almost forgotten how manipulative he was, with an evil streak so subtle it took you unaware. He loved games. Though I truly had no idea what he hoped to accomplish here.

He caught my stare and held it for a long moment before making his way toward me like a lion stalking his prey.

“Good evening. I’m pleased you could make it tonight.”

I inclined my head in a cool greeting. “I’m here for Seth.”

“He’s fantastic, isn’t he?” He waved at a piece of art on the wall behind him carelessly. “Seth will go far in the art world. He has a unique vision and knows how to use his inspiration to further his cause.”

He gave me a knowing look as he cocked his head slightly and smiled, a slow moving grin that hooked the corner of his mouth but went nowhere near his dark eyes. It gave him a demonic, dangerous look. I knew there was a game at play, but I didn’t know the rules anymore. I glanced at Seth, whose attention was firmly on the small man next to him, and felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness. Or was it possessiveness? I couldn’t tell.

“Stay away from him.”

“I can’t do that. He needs me. He’s rather like me in a way. Seth understands what must be done to make a name for oneself. You know how it works, Paul. Don’t be naïve.”

“I am far from naïve. And I know you. It’s perfectly in character for you to insert yourself where you don’t belong. I don’t know what you’re up to but—”

“Tsk. Tsk. Jealousy doesn’t become you, Paul.” He spared me a sideways smirk as he lifted his wineglass to his mouth in a studied show of nonchalance.

“I’m not jealous. He’s mine. Not yours. It doesn’t matter how you spin this or who you lie to now. It isn’t real.”

He laughed. It was a low maniacal sort of sound meant to taunt me. And fuck me, it was working. “You’re sure?”

I gritted my teeth and stepped closer. “Quite. Stay the hell away from him—”

“Are you threatening me? Really, Paul. The little green monster inside you is clashing terribly with your navy suit. You can’t stand knowing he belongs to me, can you?”

“He doesn’t belong to you,” I hissed, surprised at the venom in my voice.

“But he did. Just like you did.”

“I never belonged to you and neither did he. You are the stupid mistake we have in common. Nothing more. Leave it alone, Simon. This was over six years ago. Stop the games.”

“The game. Life is a game. Life is art. Art is life.”

I rolled my eyes on cue and took another sip.

“It’s all intertwined. Just like us. I could hardly believe it when Seth said he’d met you. Fucked you. Actually he didn’t say that, but the look on your face tells me I’m right. I was jealous then. I admit it. I hated the idea of you together. We fought and—”

“You punched him.”

“He punched back. Don’t worry about Seth, darling. He can take care of himself. Physically anyway. He needs my help with the rest. The studio, supplies, my connections. Don’t stand in his way. If you care for him, let him go.”

“Not bloody likely.” I did my best to unclench my jaw before lifting my wineglass. God, I hated him.

“You’re being selfish again. Is this about sex? The boy is fabulous in bed, isn’t he? Always in control, always on top. I love that in a young lover. He has a voracious sexual appetite. He’s insatiable really. I love his nasty mouth. Does he talk dirty to you? Tell you pornographic stories. Filthy boy.”

“Fuck off!” Angry tension radiated from me in a powerful wave.

“Mr. Pickard? Sir? Harry wants to introduce you now.”

I visibly started as a young man dressed in a tuxedo with a serious expression came between us and set a hand on Simon’s elbow. His timing was perfect.

“Wonderful. I’m ready.” He grinned. A wicked sort of twist of the lips I recognized.