Chapter Twenty-Two
NATE
Two Weeks Later
Two weeks in the studio, pouring my heart onto yet another canvas.
Each brushstroke glides across the textured fabric, acrylics spreading like the emotions I can’t contain.
The rawness of my feelings seeps from my fingers, merging into the artwork in waves of color and shadow.
This piece—dark, moody, hauntingly familiar—reveals a woman who looks uncannily like Ria.
I hadn’t meant for this artwork to be about her, yet somehow, recently, everything I create seems to connect with her.
I miss her…
No, I fucking miss her.
But not a lot can be done about that.
She’s made her choice.
I have to live by that.
I dab the brush, giving the artwork a stipple effect, and exhale as the piece comes together. This place, this gallery, Ria was right. It’s perfect for me. And having Alex here is the exact push I need to get me moving in the right direction.
Music is my life, but art is my passion.
And now, in my downtime, I want to spend as much time here as possible.
Moving my brush into the jar of water, I swirl it around, removing the black paint.
Alex strolls in to look at the painting in front of me. She half-smiles and exhales, tilting her stance with her hand on her hip. Her eyes move to me, and I raise my eyebrows at her judgmental face.
“What?” I ask, and she lets out a bemused laugh.
“You want to call her,” she states, then looks at the painting. Obviously, she can see Ria’s resemblance.
Exhaling, I drop the brush into the jar of water and stand, throwing a cloth over my shoulder as I step to the sink to wash my hands. “No, she said she didn’t want me, and she made that fact perfectly clear.”
Alex is silent as I turn on the faucet, scrubbing at the crusted paint on my fingers and under my nails with a worn bar of soap.
The warm water rinses away the last traces of color just as I look up to see Alex slipping out of the studio.
I frown, surprised—she’s not one to give up so easily.
Shaking off the water and drying my hands on a paper towel, I turn back around just as she reappears, this time with a bottle and a pair of shot glasses.
I grin, recognizing the familiar tequila label, and let out a quiet laugh. “Alex, you have a bottle of tequila in your hand.”
She looks down, opens her eyes wide, and fakes shock.
“Holy shit, I do. How the fuck did that get there? Wow! The tequila fairy must be invading my privacy again. I’ll get you, you damn fairy.
Fucker always tries to get me drunk. Oh well, guess I’ll have to share with you now, right?
” she states, pulling up a stool and plopping down on it.
I laugh, shaking my head, and sit next to her. “You’re seriously weird, you know that?”
“I know. It’s why I’m so crazy irresistible to all men and the fairy kind.”
I snort as she pours us each a shot. “We’re at work, you know.”
She shrugs and tilts her head to the side, looking at the clock on the wall.
“The gallery closed over an hour ago, so officially, we’re off the clock, boss man.
To me, that means it’s happy hour. So shut up and bottoms up, big boy,” she says, clinking her glass to mine and then slamming the tequila down her throat.
Her nose wrinkles after she swallows in a cute little way, which makes me chuckle, but I follow suit and throw back mine, which burns all the way down.
I like the hurt.
It reminds me that even though I’m numb, I can still feel something.
“Why are you so nice to me?” I ask.
Alex pours me another shot, and I raise it to my mouth, pouring the contents down the hatch.
She laughs and raises her eyebrows insinuatingly. “Because your brother is so freaking hot.”
I can’t help it as I spit out the tequila in a shocked laugh. It sprays all over the bench and an unused canvas as Alex smirks, swallowing another shot.
“What the fuck?” I ask, and she laughs, shaking her head.
“No, just kidding. Your face, though… priceless! I’m nice because you’re a great boss, an incredible talent, and a wonderful man. I’m nice because you are.”
“Okay, so I get why you’re single. You hate men because of your ex, right?” She nods. “But honestly, Alex, you’re a knockout. A little kooky but amazing. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
She takes another shot of tequila and then hands me one. “So, Matt’s the older twin, right?” I nod. “And he’s a commitment-phobe, yeah?”
“I think he was, but he’s been more open to settling down lately.
But he has this idea about his perfect girl.
He has this shopping list of requirements.
It’s so stupid. He’ll never find a girl who matches them all.
” Nodding, she exhales. “He’s picky. He’s a douche.
He’s so used to the sleazy rocker lifestyle.
So much so, he now wants the exact opposite of that.
I think what he’s looking for only exists in a nunnery. ”
“Ha! The rocker and the nun! It could work. Stranger things and all that jazz,” Alex quips with a smirk.
I chuckle. “He’s a perfectionist. Everything has to be his way, exactly. I don’t think any girl other than a doormat would put up with him.”
Alex snorts. “Ha! Matt and his doormat.”
I chuckle and nod. “Exactly. I think any girl would be nuts to go out with him. He’s the crazy brother.”
Alex laughs. “Right ’cause you’re so fucking sane with your moody art and crying into your canvases every day through your paintbrushes, Mr. I-am-so-normal man.”
Shaking my head, I shrug. “Touché.”
“See, Nate, there’s no such thing as normal. I’m not normal. You’re certainly not normal. Matt’s not. Ria’s not. None of us is normal, per se. Not even Robert over there,” she says, pointing to Robert, the cleaner who has a nineties-style mullet and wears overalls two sizes too big.
She’s right. There’s no such thing as normal, and in this day and age, I guess that’s a good thing.
“So what are we doing tonight?” Alex asks.
“We?” I reiterate.
“Yes, we. You’re always couped up painting at night, and I go home and come back the next morning to see you already here.
Like, do you even leave, or do you live here, sleeping on the floor, using your canvases as blankets and your brushes for pillows like a goddamn freak? Are you a freak, Nate? Are you?”
I laugh at her witty prompting and shake my head. “I’m not a freak, Alex.”
“Good, then we’re leaving now and going out.”
“We are?”
“Yes. C’mon, I have just the place to cheer you the fuck up.”
“You have such a way with words.”
She grins, pouring another round of shots, and raises her glass for me to clink.
“Cheers, big ears. Drink that fucker, then let’s go.
” She slams the shot down, grabs my hand with one of hers, the bottle of tequila with the other, and yanks me out of the studio.
I chuckle, trying to keep up with her fast pace, but she’s rushing, making my usual somber mood cheery. I manage a small yet genuine smile.
“Alex, slow the fuck down. I haven’t eaten all day, and this liquor is making me wobbly.”
She scoffs, shaking her head as we race toward the front of the gallery.
“Okay, Grandpa, enough with the gloom. It’s party time.
You’re off the clock. Tonight, we’re vibing.
You’re drinking. You’re getting lit, and if that means getting absolutely plastered, then so be it. Now take the damn bottle, boss.”
I smirk, raising an eyebrow and shrugging.
It can’t hurt.
What’s the worst that could happen?
It’s not like I need to function tomorrow anyway.
Hell, I am the boss.
I can take the fucking day off if I want.
She’s right.
I have been moping around like a fucking lost puppy for days now. If I really think about it, it’s more like weeks. I need to let my hair down and try to forget about Ria.
So I take a swig of the potent liquid as Robert laughs while mopping the floor.
“Robert, you good to lock up?” Alex calls out.
“Yeah, you kids have fun,” he calls back.
I nod as we walk out the front of the gallery and onto the street.
The night air feels damp, and only the street lights illuminate the gray night sky.
The overcast, ominous clouds fill the dreary atmosphere with purple and black tones.
It’s not late, but it looks like it, as the moon is hidden beneath the overclouded heavens.
“Where are we going? To a pub or something?” I ask, and Alex scoffs, then shakes her head.
“God no, pubs are for pussies. We’re going somewhere far more hardcore.”
Tensing up, I clench my jaw, wondering what kind of shit Alex is into.
I don’t know her all that well. Besides we’ve been working together for only a short time.
Sure, I spend a lot of time with her, but I know nothing about her.
She could be an underground raver. She could be into BDSM.
She could be one of those people who thinks they’re a freaking vampire.
Fuck knows what I’m about to get myself into.
“Alex.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Nate! I didn’t picture you as a wimp.”
I puff my chest out slightly. “I’m not.”
“Then shut the hell up and trust me,” she says, dragging me toward my security detail’s car. I take a deep breath and nod matter-of-factly like I agree with her, even though I’m still not convinced I’m not heading to a dominatrix dungeon.
We slide into the car, where she leans forward and whispers to the driver. I crease my face in annoyance that I didn’t hear our destination, but I guess I have to trust her on this one.
She turns to me with a knowing smile as the car eases onto the road.
“You’re gonna love it, Nate,” she murmurs, and I lift the bottle to my lips.
I smirk, shaking my head just once, then take another long pull of tequila.
The burn hits, sharp and alive—a reminder that there is still something alive inside me, a spark of a sensation that life isn’t entirely numb, even after losing something irreplaceable.