PLAYED - A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE (19 page)

BOOK: PLAYED - A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE
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“Oh! That’s the tits!”

 

“No, Jess,” I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “She doesn’t want
to do it. She wants to come back here – to England.”

 

“This girl has it bad for you Lex,” Jess laughed.

 

“Maybe. Point is, I just got done telling her I’m jumping on a plane. I
want to be there before she has to make a decision with Gloria tomorrow…”

 

“Oh,
fuck me sideways
,” Jess
groaned.

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Lex… there’s no way I can reschedule this thing with Brett and Patrovo
Corp. It’s now or never. Can’t Riley wait, just a couple of hours? You’re
already down a million this week on your little donation, and this is turning
down an awful lot more… This is your dream!”

 

“I don’t care about the fucking money or the goddamn contract anymore,
Jess.”

 

I realized that I’d said the words before I even recognized what they
meant. I was stunned at how my heart had overrode my brain, sending a signal to
blurt that declaration out… but even as I wondered about this, I knew that it
was true.

 

All that mattered to me was Riley Ricketts.

 

“You really mean that, don’t you, Lex?”

 

I didn’t need to give it another second’s thought. “I do, Jess. I really
do.”

 

“Well, I’ll be absolutely damned,” she laughed down the phone. “I
thought this little trip might be a good idea upfront… give you some renewed
perspective, keep you out of trouble… but you’re a changed man, Alexander
Lambert. This woman has really gotten into you.”

 

“I think she has.”

 

“Alright then,” she exhaled, the tension leaving her tone. “In that
case, fuck the contract. I’ll make the call right after we disconnect. If he
can’t wait one more day to hell with the whole damn company. You get yourself
to the airport. I’ll call ahead and have a plane ready for you.”

 

“You’re the best, Jess,” I told her, sighing out in relief. “I can’t
possibly thank you enough.”

 

“Yeah, yeah,” she chuckled. “Go get suited up and head straight for Heathrow.
Hit me with a text when you land.”

 
 
 

Chapter 17

 

Riley

 

 

 

There was just one other person I had to speak to.

 

To the world, she was one of the most talented contemporary sculptors of
our time – someone whose highly sought work occupied exhibits in over a hundred
museums across the world. Highly reclusive, barely conducting interviews
anymore, word was that she had hidden herself away somewhere in the vast
archipelago of islands beneath Greece.

 

Mom was always dramatic like that.

 

I hadn’t spoken to Jolene Ricketts in years, and I still remembered the
last conversation. Well, more accurately, the last vicious fight. We didn’t
exactly see eye to eye, but something told me that she was going to be
indispensible to me as I really set this major crossroads into stone.

 

She picked up on the fourth try.

 

“Hullo? Margaret speaking,” the weary voice on the other line spoke.

 

“Mom… it’s me.”

 

“…My stars, Riley?”

 

I suppressed a small smile at the sound of her confusion. “Yeah, it’s
Riley. It’s been a long time.”

 

“It’s funny… I thought I might never hear from you again,” she told me
matter-of-factly. “I take it that you need something from me. Is it money?”

 

If people thought that Gloria Van Lark was stiff as a board, then they
hadn’t met my mother. It always surprised me how such an emotive and passionate
sculptor could be such a cold, callous bitch to her own flesh and blood.

 

“I need advice.”

 

“Advice,” she chuckled. “Why on
earth
would you call me in the middle of the night for
advice?

 

Oh shit,
I thought to myself.
I didn’t
bother to check for the time zone difference…

 

“Because I need you, Mom,” I answered plainly. “I’m sorry to call so
late, I didn’t notice the time… but if you can spare me a couple of minutes,
I’ve got a problem that I think you can help me with.”

 

She sighed briefly. “Fine. What is it?”

 

“I met Gloria Van Lark today.”

 

The silence over the phone was deafening.

 

“Gloria Van Lark approached you? In the flesh? Describe her. How did she
look? I need to know for certain.”

 

“I met Paulette first, who matched the stories. But the real thing was
an old woman in a disguise that I can only accurately call
homeless chic.

 

“That’s her, alright,” Mom remarked.
Of
course she knew the truth about Gloria… her work had probably been sitting in
Spinnoc for a long time now.
“If Gloria came to see you, then maybe I was
wrong about your painting … Did she at least make you an offer?”

 

“As much as I appreciate that stunning vote of confidence,” I gritted my
teeth, “Yes. She offered to purchase some of my artwork, so long as I packed up
everything and returned with her to California. She’s waiting for my final
answer tomorrow.”

 

“You mentioned a problem,” Mom remarked. “I fail to see where it is,
unless your problem is clawing for my attention while I’m trying to sleep.”

 

It didn’t surprise me that she failed to grasp the situation.

 

“Mom, I’m being torn three ways. New Orleans is magic to me. My friends
are here. Everything that I know is here… San Diego is so far away… And then…
There’s Lex.”

 

“Oh here we go,” mother said, letting out a little laugh. “You know, I
thought you grew out of boy troubles a long time ago?”

 

 
“Lex is trouble,” I
confirmed. “I have to choose between launching my career into the stratosphere,
or being with one of the most visible celebrities in British culture.”

 

“You’re exaggerating.”

 

“I’m not. Are you familiar at all with footba– I mean, with
soccer
?”

 

“It’s not my thing,” Mom replied, “although the locals go batshit insane
over the sport. You’re dating an English player? Who?”

 

“His name is Lex Lambert.”

 

“…Son of a bitch.”

 

My heart dropped. “Wait, what? What’s the matter?”

 

Mom laughed down the phone. “
Lightning
Lex Lambert
? He’s one of the few I
do
recognize. His sticky thumb is in half of the scandals that come out of
England… what on earth possessed you to chase
him?
He’s going to dump you in a heartbeat!”

 

“He’s changed, Mom,” I told her, realizing how naïve I probably sounded
to her.

 

“Hogwash. He’s a renegade, Riley. Although, I’ll admit that marrying him
would set you up for life… Paintings or no paintings, that’s the practical
choice.”

 

“I don’t care about the money,” I told her emphatically. “I can make it
on my own… I just need to know that I’m not making a huge mistake.”

 

“Choose Gloria,” Mom answered. “It’s the best decision I made in my
entire life. Under her mentoring, your work will be known and appreciated the
world over. I never regretted taking her up on the
same
offer…”

 

“Wait… what are you talking about?”

 

“Don’t be daft, Riley. You’re not the first Ricketts that drew the
attention of Gloria Van Lark. No, she came to me about fifteen years ago, long
after I’d established myself in the field. She told me that she could teach me
to hone my craft to exceptional heights… and so she did.” bookmark

 

“Mom… that’s about the time that you left.”

 

“Oh, I’m aware,” she commented. “My art was everything to me, Riley. I
made my choice and I don’t regret it. Look at me now… I’m arguably the most
distinguished and decorated sculptor living today.”

 

“Mom, you… y-you
left
me? For…
for
her?
” I stammered, barely able to
acknowledge this sudden change in my understanding of things.

 

“When you put it that way, it makes me sound sort of rough, doesn’t it?”
She chuckled airily down the line. “I saw to it that your needs were met. Your
foster parents were sent appropriate amounts of money to give you everything
that you needed, and they showed me some of your art as you grew up. It wasn’t
too bad.”

 

I could feel my phone shaking against my head. All this time… I had been
dreaming of gaining the attention of Gloria Van Lark… and the bitch had had a
hand in ruining my childhood from the start.

 

My mother had abandoned me, yes. I had known that a long time ago. She
chose her career...

 

Gloria Van Lark had done what she does best… She crushed someone under
foot.

 

She crushed me…

 

Abandon your life.

 

Leave all of this behind.

 

I’ll make you world-famous.

 

I didn’t even care what Mom was prattling on about anymore. I took a few
deep breaths and returned to the conversation.

 

“…You’d be making a fool of yourself if you turned down this opportunity,
not that you were ever particularly bright.”

 

“I appreciate the help, Mom,” I told her.

 

She went quiet.

 

“You’re angry. Last time you got angry you didn’t talk to me for six
years…”

 

“Maybe I can set a new record,” I replied, hanging up the line.

 

The phone clattered to the couch as I held my head in my hands and
sobbed. The last couple of days had taken their toll on me, but I knew that I
was making the right choice.

 

Fuck Gloria Van Lark, and fuck her museum. I’d come this far in life
without her and I wasn’t about to let her control my life.

 

With this sentiment in mind, I needed some paintbrush therapy. I’d
already prepared the canvas with a thin veneer of clear. I leapt off of the
couch and perched myself in front of my easel, whipping up a dozen colors and
blends for my pallet.

 

The white frame sat before me, eagerly waiting for my touch. It called
to me, showing me exactly what I needed to do.

 

I dabbed my brush against a soothing blue, moving a glob of it to a
clean spot on my pallet. Mixing in a touch of white to deepen the variance, I
pressed the tip to the canvas... and I performed my greatest composition yet.

 

A few hours later, I was putting the finishing touches on the canvas
when the door clicked open. I allowed myself to slip back out of my zone as the
telltale clatter of Reiko’s boots navigated towards my studio, pausing at a few
rooms.

 

There was someone else with her – Will, in all likelihood. Even
he
couldn’t bother me now.

 

“Riley, I just want to apologize for the way I’ve been acting lately,” I
heard him call for me. “I know that it’s not fair to you, and I swear that I’m
okay with just being–”

 

The movements stopped at my doorway. I turned around, stepping away from
my latest painting as I stretched before them.

 

“Holy shit,” Reiko muttered.

 

“That is… wow,” Connor murmured, pushing his glasses further up his
nose. “I think this might be your best one yet.”

 

“You think so?” I asked nonchalantly, pulling up a stool and taking a
seat. I followed their collective gaze to the paint, still drying against the
canvas. Glancing down at my own clothes, I could see abrupt dashes of color all
over, a sea of smudges and splotches.

 

I must have been painting like a wild animal.

 

“I take it back,” Connor continued. “I understand now. I thought the
ones in the Closet of Doom were good, but
this

this
is on a completely different
level.”

 

“This is what I see… This is what I want to create...”

 

Reiko swallowed. “That Van Lark chick is going to
love
you.”

 

“Oh, no she’s not,” I smiled knowingly. “Not when I’m through with her.”

 

Reiko exchanged a quick, confused glance with Will, and then turned her
attention back to me. “Wait, did we miss something? Because that lady’s been
all you could talk about for months.”

 

I stood up, grasping both of them by the shoulder. I was careful to not
smear any excess paint on either of them. “Order some delivery and crack open
some beers, because I have so much to tell you guys…”

 

And I did.

 

I told them absolutely everything.

 

Every last detail about my relationship with Lex, the way we’d broken
apart, meeting Gloria Van Lark, the conversations with Lex and my mother over
the phone…

 

We conversed long into the night, and they both emphatically told me
that they would support whatever decision I made.

 

My friends had my back.

 

And when I arrived at the steps of the Pulliam Museum, I had my
definitive decision already in mind.

 

Even with no Lex Lambert in sight.

 

“Welcome back, Riley,” Gloria chuckled as I stepped into earshot. “I see
that you brought some friends. I’m afraid that they won’t be able to join us…
and what’s this?”

 

She was referring to the covered painting under my arm. I’d protected it
with my life all the way here, and I unsheathed it before her, balancing the
bottom edge against the top of my sandal as I held the huge piece up.

 

“My… my gods,” Gloria Van Lark murmured. Even Paulette’s cold smirk
dropped, and she adjusted her spectacles to gaze at the artwork. “When did
this
happen?”

 

“I painted this yesterday afternoon, after our discussion,” I answered
her.

 

Gloria composed herself, but was unable to wrench her eyes from the
artwork. “This is magnificent, Riley. This is
exactly
the standard of art that I expect for my galleries. I can
tell you right this moment that
Spinnoc
would
benefit tremendously from including this piece… it would appear that my faith
in you wasn’t misplaced after all. Like mother like daughter… If you can emote
creations on this level, then you have all the makings of an extraordinary
painter.”

BOOK: PLAYED - A BRITISH BAD BOY ROMANCE
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