Picture Me Naked (Stoddard Art School Series) (31 page)

Zee tried to remember to breathe. Daniel Bruce continued. He was beginning to sound like the ringmaster in a black-tie circus. “Write down the date and time, ladies and gentlemen, because you will want to recall the exact place you were when you met her. It is a thrill and an honor to present, Ms. Z. Z. Lambert and her stunning work.”

Applause erupted around her. Zee tried to smile. She nodded her thanks to Daniel and shook his hand. She made a quick scan of the room. Familiar faces joined in the blur of guests, but she did not see the one face she sought.

“So, enjoy yourselves. There is plenty to drink and we have some lovely little nibblies in the salon.” He raised his glass to her. “Zee, bravo!”

The others echoed his bravo. She thanked him again. “Go, my girl. Take your bow.”

He flitted away to play the gregarious host as a press of people approached her. Strangers shook her hand and friends hugged her tightly. Genevieve wanted her shoes, and Geoffrey told her he was so jealous he could spit.

Her cheeks ached from the forced smile upon her lips, and her feet were already killing her. Leah kept replacing her champagne glass. If she wasn’t careful, Cinderella wouldn’t ever see midnight. She’d be passed out on top of her pumpkin.

Zee looked for Jagger even though she knew he wasn’t there. Each time a new guest arrived, she shot a glance toward the door only to have her heart drop when it wasn’t him.

Her mother floated up to her in a cloud of rainbow chiffon, patchouli, and long feathered earrings. She put her hands on Zee’s face and gushed, “My little girl.”

Zee pulled henna-tattooed hands away from her cheeks. “Thanks for coming.”

“I’m the mother, that’s what we do.” Her voice boomed like she was auditioning for some bizarre play. “Someday you will know the joy of pushing a life into being, dear Zee. I shall be the crone then and you shall be the earth Mother and know the indescribable rapture of having another soul ripped from your—”

“Mother!”
Someone stop her!
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your date?” Her mom turned and tugged at the longhaired, bearded man to her side. He was shorter than her mother by more than a foot and quite pudgy around the middle. He wore a long gauzy tunic the color of burlap and his jewelry was made of rocks and symbolic charms. Zee held out her hand.

“You must be Gerald.”

“Oh, Zee, darling, Gerald doesn’t speak. He is a man of spirit. He finds no use for earthy words and common ways of expression.”

Gerald placed the tips of his fingers together and bowed to her in greeting.

“Ah, of course.” Zee couldn’t help herself. “If Gerald doesn’t speak, how do you know his name?”

“Silly girl, he showed me his driver’s license.”

“Well, Gerald, it is then. Um…very kind of you to come. Enjoy yourself.”

“Oh, we will.” Her mother floated away with her miniature shaman in her wake, telling everyone she met that
she
was the “Mother of the Artist.” She insisted it was
her
artistic spirit that she graciously passed on, given as a gift to her daughter in the womb.

Madeline approached chatting exaggeratedly to a small group of guests, leading the way like a mother duck.

“Here she is, as promised. Zee! What a fabulous turnout.” Madeline turned back to her ducklings. “Zee has been with Stoddard for most of her artistic career. We are just so proud of her. It’s incredibly rewarding when we see one of our students spread their wings and take flight. It’s one of the true joys of running a school like Stoddard. But here I am singing to the choir, for heaven’s sake. You know how important Stoddard has been in your own lives. I, for one, am excited about our future. We could be the institution behind the next Picasso, or the next Michelangelo. I get chills just thinking about it.”

Wow, Zee thought, Madeline should have warned her; she could have worn hip boots. It was getting deep in here. Zee answered all their questions, raved about Stoddard and the graduate program, and felt like Madeline’s trained monkey…in heels. By the time Madeline and her little clutch moved into the other room for small squares of cheese and whatever else could be stuck on a frilled toothpick, Zee’s nerves had been stretched to their breaking point.

She waved as Ted came in and kissed Leah. Before she had time to feel jealous, a woman in an expensive-looking suit approached asking about her process, and asked if she would consider doing a portrait of her Yorkshire terrier. The background could be any color as long as it didn’t clash with her new sofa.

Leah interrupted the inane conversation a few minutes later.

“Thank you.
Thank you
. That woman wanted to pay me to paint her dog.”

“Honey…” Leah’s face was full of distress.

“What? What is it? Are you all right?”

“It’s Jagger.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Zee spun around. “Jagger’s here? Where?”

“No, honey, he’s not here.”

“What’s going on? Where is he?” Zee grabbed Leah’s arm.

“Madeline just got a call on her cell. They found her number in his wallet.”

“They? What are you talking about? Jagger called Madeline?”

“No. There’s been an accident. The hospital called her.”

Zee’s heart dropped into her shoes. “Hospital? No! Is he all right?”

“I don’t know, sweetie.”

“Where is he? What hospital?”

“St. Joseph’s. It’s twenty minutes north up I-93.”

“Is the limo still here?”

“Yes. Take it. It’s paid for the whole night.”

“I need to—” Zee looked around in a panic. She needed to find Daniel. Madeline appeared behind Leah.

“Zee,” she hissed, “I hope you’re not thinking about rushing off. You can’t possibly leave now. There’s nothing you’re going to be able to do for Jagger for the next hour or so. He’s in emergency and they’ve promised to call me with updates. You’re needed here.”

“Madeline, I’m not about to stand here like nothing’s happened for the next two hours so you can parade me like some show dog. I’m going, and there isn’t anything you can do or say that’s going to stop me.”

“Good luck telling Daniel.” Madeline’s mouth flattened.

Zee found him standing near the back of the gallery surrounded by his own groupies. “Ah,” he gushed, “here’s my shining star now.”

Zee forced a smile. “Hello. Thank you so much for coming. Daniel, could I speak with you a moment?”

“Certainly, certainly.” He turned and excused himself from his guests. “Good news,” he puffed when they were out of earshot, “sold another three and that gentleman in the green suit that makes him look like a toad…he’s contemplating the charcoal of the lovely pregnant woman.”

“That is good news. But I’m afraid my news isn’t as good. I have to leave.”

“Impossible.” He shook his head.

“My friend has been in an accident. I need to get to the hospital.”

“I don’t think you understand, my dear. We have a contract. You are required to be present at whatever event I deem essential. No excuses. It’s part of our deal. Didn’t you read your agreement?”

“No. I mean, yes, of course I read our agreement. Three times. And I do remember that clause, but, Daniel, this is an emergency. My friend may be seriously injured or dead for all I know. I
have
to go.”

“Well, if you have to. Then I guess you have to. But, Ms. Lambert, if you leave, I will be forced to terminate our association.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I’m not about to cater to the whims of yet another flighty, irresponsible artist, no matter how talented she is. This is my business and I run it my way—my rules. I’ve done so for twenty years, and I’m not going to start changing things now. Working with artists is very taxing. I’ve found I have to be tough, or no one wins. So, here it is. You stay or the deal’s off. And before you decide, let me remind you that I have very long, very influential arms. If I drop you as a client, no one will take you on. Madeline said something about the Meade Fellowship? Well, you can kiss that good bye, as well. I can place your art in six major galleries, two in New York. Not to mention my European connections. Deal unprofessionally with me, and you’re done. You’ll be setting up tents and selling your stuff at the local craft show.”

Zee swallowed the scream that threatened to erupt from her throat. “Well, Daniel, since you’ve put it that way. I would be an absolute fool to throw away everything I’ve worked so hard for, everything I’ve ever dream of.” She stooped to take off her shoes.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve wasted enough time talking to you, and I can’t run in heels.” Daniel Bruce gaped at her. “You do what you need to do, Daniel, I’m leaving.”

Nineteen minutes later, Zee’s heart pounded as she broke through the doors into the fluorescent glare of the ER. A scrub-suited attendant sat behind a glassed window with a round hole in the center.

“May I help you?”

“I’m looking for Jagger Jones. I was told he was in an accident.”

“Are you family?”

“No, I-I’m his girlfriend…or ex really, I guess. But no, I
am
his girlfriend. His family is on the other side of the world. I’m all he has here, sort of. I need to see him.”

“I understand.” The woman tapped a few things onto her computer’s keyboard. “We have Mr. Jones’s emergency contact as Madeline Sullivan. Are you Ms. Sullivan?

“No, but he probably filled in that contact information before…”

“Well, I’m sorry, we can’t give you any information.”

“Please, can you just tell me how badly he’s hurt?”

A police officer approached Zee from behind. “Excuse me, miss, did you say you were Mr. Jones’s girlfriend?”

“Yes. Is he okay?”

“I’m Sergeant Wilson, State Police. We’re investigating the incident involving Mr. Jones.”

A sob caught in her throat. “Please tell me he’s all right.”

“The doctors are still with him. I’m not at liberty to give details, but I have a few questions you might help me answer.”

“What happened?” Zee watched him pull a spiraled notepad out of his breast pocket.

“Do you know anyone who would want to harm Mr. Jones?”

“Harm him? No. Why?”

“Can you account for your whereabouts for the last twenty-four hours?”

“What? Um, yes, I can. Do you think I had something to do with his accident?”

“Well, Miss…?”

“Lambert. Z. Z. Lambert.”

The officer scribbled. “Well, Miss Lambert, someone tampered with the brakes on Mr. Jones’ van causing him to lose control of his vehicle. The van left the road and rolled several times before landing at the foot of the embankment. His wreck was no accident.”

“
Oh my God
.” Zee felt sick. “Please, I need to see him.”

“Would you have any idea why someone would want to harm Mr. Jones?”

Zee gasped as realization hit her. “Oh my God. Ed. Oh, God.
Oh, God!
” She grabbed the officer’s wrist. “He was
dirty
!”

Zee sat on an ugly purple chair in the near empty waiting area twisting a tissue into a damp wad. A fat television on a shelf the corner was spewing the latest gossip on some celebrity. Zee watched as they flashed the sad, ugly mug shot across the screen, but the only thing she was thinking about was Jagger.

This had to be a nightmare. Any minute she’d wake up in her bed, wrapped in Jagger’s arms and the last week will have been one big bad dream. But, no, it was real. Ed tried to kill Jagger. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

Ed Zeigler, a murderer? Did he cut Jagger’s brakes before or after he picked up the flowers and the ring?
Oh, God!

Zee couldn’t sit still. She paced the hideous purple and teal carpet. It could be
her
lying in that hospital bed. It
should
have been her, dammit! She should have called the police. Maybe if they hadn’t installed that damn alarm system, Ed might not have gone after Jagger’s van.

She held her forehead and prayed. Please let him be all right. Please give me a chance to tell him I love him. Tell him I’m sorry. Zee had to sit down.

But she jumped to her feet again as Officer Wilson returned. “They’re finishing up with him now. I’m told I can bring you back to see him.”

She released a shuttered breath. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Zee followed the wide back of the officer into the treatment area. He stopped and peeked into the windowed slot in a door marked Eight. “Looks like the nurse is still with him. You should wait. I’m going to leave you, Ms. Lambert. Are you going to be okay?”

The medicinal hospital smell was making her light headed. She didn’t care. All she cared about was getting into that room. She took deep breaths to try to calm herself, and nodded. “I’ll be fine.”

The nurse finally came out of the room. “You can go in now.”

Zee’s stomach dropped. She held on to the doorframe and steeled herself for what she might see and went in. Jagger was unconscious. A white bandage covered a wound over his left eye and a lime green fiberglass cast covered his arm from the elbow down. Monitor wires were attached to his chest and a clear bag dripped into an IV tube in his arm. He wore a pale blue printed hospital gown. A thin blanket covered him from the waist down.

“Oh, Jagger,” she whispered as she rushed to his side. Monitors flashed and beeped. She tried to interpret all the lights and numbers. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. The police think Ed did this. I swear if he’s responsible I’ll strangle him with his own jumper cables.” Zee gave an anguished gasp. “Oh God, look at you.” She moved to touch his swollen cheek. The beginnings of a dark bruise marred his beautiful face. She stroked his arm. “Jagger? Please…please don’t die. Don’t leave me. I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ve been such a damn fool.” She slipped her hand into his, clutching his still fingers. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, and what do I do? I pushed you away. You gave me an incredible gift, and I threw it back in your face. I don’t know what possessed me. I was horrible. You were right to leave. I don’t deserve that beautiful garden, and I don’t deserve some one as wonderful as you. I’m an insecure mess who talks to a dead woman, with a mother who’s dating a miniature shaman, for God’s sake. But…”