February (Calendar Girl #2) (7 page)

“I don’t need much sleep. Once I was inspired by your body, I had to paint it.”

“Are you saying, we had sex and you were so taken by the experience you came down here and painted this?”

“
Oui
. Your naked body. Making love to you gave me all the energy I needed to create this beautiful image for the world to see. Now you can see,
oui
?”

I stared at the black and white painting. Just a hint of my naked breasts showed in the painting. I could also see the happiness in my form as my image touched the sad heart of the picture he’d taken the day before. It was as if my happy self was consoling my sad self. Shivers rippled down my spine and out my arms.

Once more, he filled a saucer with sticky paint, then walked over to me, brush in hand. He proceeded to paint my lips as I quietly admired the painting in front of me. It held me captive like there was a gnarled hand clutching my heart. My heart pounded and tears fell from my eyes. The music in the room changed. The notes were loud and sweeping in their sorrow as they pitched high then low. Trombones and trumpets blared. Alec gripped my hand, swept me into his arms and carried me over to the painting. This time he didn’t have me kiss my lips.

“Kiss here.” He pointed to the hand over the heart in the second image. I leaned forward and kissed the painted canvas. A perfect lip print shone bright red on the painted hand. He applied more paint to my lips.

He pointed to my elbow and I kissed it. More paint. The shoulder, the middle of the back in the image. More paint. For a long time he reapplied the paint, had me kiss an exposed portion of my body on his painting. We did this until there were red lip kisses all over the painting he’d done. It was odd, it didn’t take away from his art but added an entirely different element. The kiss marks were bright, stark against the black and white of the canvas and his drawing.

Once he was done, he helped me back into the seat. Methodically he wiped my lips with baby wipes removing any paint residue. Then he handed me some water and a lip balm. I swear the man thought of everything.

He walked across the room and left me to the music and the painting. I stared and stared at myself. The one I’d done the first day was hanging to the left, the red lips and tear streaking down my face in the image was startling in its sadness. The picture on the right was the same image photographed but with the addition of me facing it, hand on the heart, only there were kiss marks over every couple inches.

The lighting above the artwork shone bright and seemed to start in the middle of the images and burst out, accentuating the depth of the dark and light along with the texture of the red paint making it pop out as if 3D.

“Have you figured out what it means yet?” Alec asked while looking at the painting. I looked at him for long moments. Watching him as he appreciated what he created. He was the one that should have been the subject of the artwork. He was so big, strong, and masculine. The hair he’d pulled into a tiny bun at the back of his head seemed to shine gold in the lighting. His beard and mustache made slight rustling noise as he rubbed his knuckles across it. “Have you,
ma jolie
?”

I shook my head and focused on the art.  “I can see that it’s beautiful, that it moves me in a way.”

His gaze shot to mine. “It moves you?”

“Yeah,” I whispered focusing on the first image. “This one, I look sad, but it’s more than that. There’s a quiet devastation there. The sorrow so deep in the eyes you’ve painted makes me think I’ll never be happy. That she’ll never be happy.” I tried to take myself out of the image even though it was difficult. I had a feeling that was the last thing he intended. 

He nodded. “Yes when I captured you, it hurt me. That’s how I knew it was the right one. Art should make you feel something. Good, bad, happiness, sorrow, love, hate, cold, warmth. Everything we see correlates to a feeling within us. This particular one moved you the way it should.”

“Why? Why would you want someone to feel sorrow and a sadness so deep they may never recover?”

His gaze held mine. “Because that is what I want the viewer to see. The painting is called, “No Love for Me.”

Those words shot through my heart like an arrow. Tears spilled down both sides of my face “And the other?” I asked though afraid to hear the answer.

“What does it make you feel?”

I skimmed over the photographic image of my sad self and quickly looked away. “Shame.” His jaw seemed to tighten and lock down, and he gave a slight nod. I focused again on the image where I held my hand over the heart of the sad Mia. “Hope.” Again he stared and waited. I took in all the red lips everywhere all over the Mia reaching out to the sad image. “Love.” I shrugged.

Alec turned and came over to me where he kneeled down. He moved forward, held my face in both hands and kissed me softly. I could taste the coffee he drank and something darker, something that was unique to him.

“You see what I want you to see. Shame, hope, and love.” His eyes were wide, his features soft as he took in my face.

“But why? Those things are hard to grasp. Not only that, they are often things that tear people apart.”

“As sometimes art can do. It’s all in the eye of the beholder. What you see, what I see, may feel different, as it should.”

“Have you named it?”

He tipped his chin down in assent.

“What are you calling it?”

“Exactly what I want the viewer to feel.”

I swallowed slowly waiting for him to finish. He didn’t. “Which is?”

He traced my face from the indent at my temple down to my lips. He watched his finger with reverence as it slipped across my features.

“To Love Thyself.”

Chapter 6

Over the next week, Alec and I got into a regular routine. Stills, eating, sex. Painting, eating, sex. We hadn’t left the building, and most days it rained. I longed for sunny Malibu and being free to swim, go for a walk, or surf. What I missed most, though, besides my family, was Wes. Don’t get me wrong, Alec was amazing in more ways than one. Even though we had an easy camaraderie and had a blast in the bedroom, there really was nothing more to our relationship other than working and fucking. ‘Making love’ he called it; I called it fucking, and I loved to do it, though I didn’t share that with him. It could have been worse, I guess. He could have been parading me around to boring museums to look at other people’s art.

I wasn’t due in the loft until the evening. That was a new request. Usually, he wanted me there first thing after I woke. The problem was when I was alone with my thoughts, I’d think of all the things in my real life I was missing. My dad, who hadn’t woken from his coma but had been moved to a convalescent facility to be cared for by the State. Gin said it was an okay place, nothing special about it. She said she and Maddy visited every few days, read to him, try to keep him company. She sent me a picture of him lying in bed. The bruises around his face had healed. Most of his body was still in a cast of some sort.

Looking down at my phone, I saw my dad. It was as if he was sleeping, not fighting for his life. The doctors don’t know what his mental status will be if he wakes up.
When
he wakes up, I remind myself. No need to put out negative vibes into the universe. Even though I don’t really believe in that shit, if it does happen to be real, I’m not going to be the one to mess with the higher power.

Scrolling through the list of contacts, I pressed the speed dial for Maddy. It had been a good week since I’d spoken to her, and I was missing my baby sis.

“Hey, Sis.” Maddy’s sing song voice rang through the phone. Instantly, the tight feeling around my heart lessened at her happy tone.

“Hi, Mads, how you doing?” I asked.

The shuffling of papers and a zipper could be heard through the line. “Eh, you know me, getting ready for class.”

“What’s this one?”

“Forensic Pathology,” she answered.

I pushed a hand through my hair and tucked the blankets higher around my body. “Isn’t that the study of dead people?”

More shuffling then she sighed. “Yeah, technically it focuses on determining the cause of death by examining a corpse. The autopsy is performed by a medical examiner, usually during the investigation of criminal law cases and civil law cases in some jurisdictions…” She went on, but I had blanked out after she said examining a corpse.

“You’re going to cut up a dead person?” I couldn’t contain the shock in my voice. Who would willingly want to do that? I mean, I know people did do that, and it was part of solving murders and such, but really, my sweet baby sister cutting up dead guys? The thought made the hair on my arms rise.

“It’s called a cadaver, and it’s part of my course work. Everyone has to do a variety of classes and I picked this one. It’s really interesting. You’d never believe some of the sick stuff people do.”

She’d be surprised. “I know what psychos do, and I don’t want my baby sis anywhere near that shit. You’re golden, baby. I don’t want you tainted by what the scum of the Earth do.”

“Momma Mia, you cannot protect me forever. I’m nineteen years old. Besides, you’re only five years older than me.”

“Didn’t stop me from taking care of you to this point!” I shot back.

She sighed so long I could almost physically feel the weight of it pressing back down on my chest. “Mia, I don’t know what type of scientist I’m going to be yet…”

“The kind that cures cancer or develops new pills that can keep me skinny forever! The kind that doesn’t deal in death!” I sat up, my hackles rising. I did not want her surrounded by the ugly in life. We’d had enough of that growing up, and I had worked my damn ass off since she was five to make sure she’d see only light, as bright as I could give her.

“You know I love you,” she said so softly, using that voice that she knew got to me. “I know you want everything for me, and I…” She paused, and that pause pressed the weight deeper, crushing my heart. “Mia, I have to be able to find my own way. Okay? Promise me you’ll let me figure this out on my own.”

Figure something out on her own? My baby sis doing something all by herself. Without me to guide her, protect her, save her from getting shit on. I felt like a robot.
Does not compute. Does not compute.
I shushed my own ridiculous crazy voice aside and tried to be supportive. “I want you happy, Mads,” I choked back the emotion. “Just promise me you’re considering all options.”

I could tell the moment she turned back into happy-go-lucky Mads. “Oh, I am! I’m also taking a botany class that’s absolutely fascinating!”

“What’s botany?” God, I felt stupid asking my baby sister what something meant. I’d heard the word before, but I couldn’t place it.

“Plant science,” she giggled.

Did she just say plant science? From the study of dead people to plants? “Plants?”

“Uh huh. It’s actually really cool. We’re studying the relationship of different plants and flowers to their environments. Next, we’re going into horticulture which goes over the cultivation of plants and flowers for food and decoration.”

Now that sounded really weird but also safe and pretty. Everyone loved plants and flowers and there weren’t murders as part of something like that. “I like the sound of this course,” I admitted.

“Figured you would. And Mia, there’s this guy that I’m partnered with, and, oh my God, he’s so hot!” she giggled again like the schoolgirl she was. It lifted that weight right off my chest and slammed it into next week.

Now this, this is the type of talk I could get into. “Oh yeah, tell me everything!”

And she did. Shared with me how they’ve been flirting for a couple weeks, but he hasn’t gotten up the nerve to ask her out. He was a year older and majoring in the plant sciences. Really liked that. Meant he was a nerdy guy. I suggested she ask him out. She freaked. No way was my sweet, innocent baby sister going to ask a guy out. I was proud of that. Even more proud that, at nineteen, she still had her virginity. A couple times she’d come close, but we talked through it and she decided the guys weren’t worth it. I wanted her to have a special experience and told her so. Not like mine. Drunk off my ass in the back of my high-school sweetheart’s truck. Shortly after, he’d ran off with a cheerleader with bigger boobs and a lower IQ. 

I was honest with my sis and told her my experience. At the time, she was horrified that a guy would do that to me and promised that she’d never make the same mistakes. I figured sharing that shitty time in my life was worth it. If she learned something from it and protected herself, I’d done my job, and I took my job of raising her seriously. She was the best thing I’d ever contributed to in my life, and I was determined, even now, to make sure she succeeded. For the both of us.

After my call with Maddy, I felt a lot better. Knowing she was doing so well in school, had found a hot, nerdy guy to flirt with, and the bills were all paid at home gave me a real sense of peace. I knew then more than ever that taking this job with Millie’s escort service was the right decision. Maddy had some extra cash in the bank, food in the fridge, and I was up-to-date on my payment to Blaine. I finished up my shower in a damn good mood then heard my phone ping while I was ringing out my wet hair. I hopped over to the toilet seat, sat my towel-clad fanny on it, then grabbed my phone and stared at the screen.

From: Wes Channing

To: Mia Saunders

How’s Seattle?

Seeing Wes’s name made my heart pound and butterflies take up flight in my stomach. I didn’t know how this was going to play out with Wes. He’d said we’d stay friends through the year, so I imagined this was his attempt at following through. I thought for a few minutes about how I wanted to respond. Guilt that I’d been with Alec scratched at the surface of my subconscious, but I pushed it aside. I had to treat Wes like a friend and vice versa. Yes, there are some deep feelings there.  Yes, I’d love to be sitting with him right now, but that’s not the way my life is. It’s not how my life is going to be for another ten and a half months.