Chapter 7
Elle
“Hey, Jorge!” I smile into the phone when my studio manager and friend answers.
“Elle-Belle! Why did you have to leave me? Life is so dull without you around fucking shit up!”
“Oh, hush,” I laugh. “You know you get into trouble all by yourself. You don’t need my help to do that.”
I met Jorge years ago at a nightclub, and we hit it off immediately. He was nursing a broken heart, and I was fresh from my d-i-v-o-r-c-e that will never be spoken about again. He’s absolutely every woman’s dream—tall, tan, and built, smart, and funny. Oh, and gay. Of course, right?
“What can I do you for, baby cakes?”
“I found a place. It’s perfect.”
I look around the still mostly empty room. I brought a stack of sketchpads and my pencils in a few nights ago and ended up staying until well past midnight. I filled over half of a brand-new book. It was the most creative I’ve been, but the thought of what I sketched that night makes me want to gag. No matter how I tried to draw something else, he was stuck in my head. Pages upon pages of brown eyes begging for something, but I don’t know what. A man in shadow, trying to find his way to the light. Those same brown eyes pleading from the face of a man drowning, trying to find his way back to the surface. There’s pain in that man, I know it. But I can’t fix it. That’s not my job, is it? Doesn’t stop my fingers from twitching, itching to reach for a pencil and draw.
Luckily, Jorge is here to distract me.
“I don’t want to hear about your perfect little place in your new perfect little town with all the perfect men. Ugh, you straights are so boring.”
“What the fuck ever, boo-boo. I need your help. Wanna come see the hot, straight men?”
“Why dangle what I can’t have in front of me?”
“Dangle.” I can’t help but laugh. “You are full of it today. You coming or not?”
“Of course I am! What do you need?”
I tell Jorge what I need, knowing he’s probably already started packing everything up in the studio van. This is one of the reasons I love him. We can screw around and have fun, but when it comes down to it, he’s as invested in the studio as I am. He loves the work, and takes it seriously, but still knows how to have fun.
“Hey, sweet cheeks,” he starts when the packing list is complete. “What do you know about rose petals?”
That makes me take notice. “What about them?” I ask hesitantly.
“I found some. On the ground outside your studio door.”
“Fuck,” I whisper, louder than I wanted to.
“Talk, Elenore. Now.”
“You know I hate it when you full name me,” I whine, trying to buy time.
“Tough shit. I’ll Elenore you until I’m blue in the face if I need to. Spill it, sister.”
“It’s Stefon. Or, at least I think it’s Stefon,” I admit to Jorge.
“Oookkaayyy,” he draws out the word. “Why do you think it’s that fine ass man?”
“Just because he’s fine doesn’t mean he was meant for me, J.”
“It also doesn’t mean you can keep why you think he’s a creepy rose petal dropper a secret.”
Sighing, I put the phone down on the counter with him on speaker and rub my temples. I hate talking about this shit. I just want to move on.
“He got too clingy and shit and I cut him loose, but he didn’t really go away?”
“You asking me or telling me?”
“Fine. I saw him outside my window a few times after I ended it with him and then he was watching me at the studio. It creeped me out, okay?”
“So you ran away to hide in your small town with all the hot straights and now you want me to do the heavy lifting and bring all your shit to you so you can stay hidden? That about the gist?”
“Yes. That’s it. Can we drop it now?”
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
“What was I supposed to say? Hey, you know that hot guy who brings us a lot of business that you talked me into going on a date with? Yeah, he’s a super creep and we don’t want his business anymore?”
“That’s exactly what you were supposed to say, Elle! You aren’t supposed to run away from your life, from your friends!”
“Look, it wasn’t just him, okay? I…I need a break. I need to not be the crazy Workman who draws stuff. My mojo was gone. If we want to keep the studio open, I had to leave to give you new shit to display. Hopefully, it’ll be good shit.”
“Is this like a midlife crisis or something, Elle?” Jorge asks with new concern in his voice. “Seriously, are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” I tell him, grabbing the phone off the counter and sliding down the wall to sit. “I’ve been feeling out of sorts for a while, you know that. And then Stefon happened and, J, I don’t know what the hell I’m doing anymore.”
“Hush, woman. Everything is going to work out. You’ll see. I’ll bring you everything you need to turn that room into a new studio and you’ll start creating wonderful things that all the people have to have.”
“Why do you have so much faith in me?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know.
“Because you saw something in me I hadn’t found yet, and you showed me the way. It’s only fair that at some point I get to return the favor, sweetheart. You are the best person I know. You have the biggest and kindest heart I know. You have more talent in your pinky than most people have in their entire bodies, and sometimes you just need a new perspective to see it.”
“I love you, J. Miss your face.”
“Love you, too. Now get that sketchpad out I know you have with you and start creating. That’s an order.”
“Whatever you say, boss,” I laugh. I might sign his checks, but we both know he’s in charge.
“I’ll see you soon. You’ll have to take me to that diner you keep raving about.”
“Oh, Ms. Mabel will absolutely eat you up. She might not let you leave.”
“Does she have a son?”
“Matter of fact, she does.” I smile, knowing what’s coming next.
“Do they even make them gay in that small town?”
I laugh loud at his already dejected tone. “Oh, lover-boy, gay people exist everywhere. Not Ms. Mable’s son, but yes, there are gay people here.”
“Oh, thank goodness. Okay. I’m going to go load up the van and pack my stuff, and I’ll see you tomorrow around lunch.”
“Lunch?”
“You’re right, better make it closer to dinner. I’m sleeping in tomorrow!”
“No, you’re not!”
“Sorry, shhh, can’t, shhh, hear, shhh, you, shhh!” he replies, like he’s losing connection.
“Lunchtime!” I yell, laughing. “And don’t be late! Love you!”
I hear him laughing as I hang the phone up and wonder if Ginny wants to come over when she’s done with school tomorrow to meet Jorge. I think they’d hit it right off.
Elle: My main man is bringing my stuff tomorrow. Want to come for dinner at my place? Ordering takeout.
Ginny: Main man?
Elle: Jorge. You have to meet him to understand.
Ginny: I’m in!
Elle: Great. See you then. Promise you’ll love him.
I put the phone down on the floor and rest my head against the wall, closing my eyes for a minute. The total silence here is new. There aren’t any sounds coming in from outside. No people walking by talking like at the studio in Diamond Cove. No music filtering in from cars driving by or even from downstairs. I need to remember to pick up a speaker next time I make an online order. I crave silence, but this might drive me crazy.
It’s in the silence that I hear what sounds like footsteps. It was too early for anyone to be downstairs in the shop when I came in, but the hair on my arms stands up and I instinctively know I’m not alone anymore. Maybe if I stay quiet, whoever it is will go away. I’m not ready for Barbie and her twenty questions, and I’m really not ready to face Ranger and his…anger.
I hold my breath until I’m sure whoever was there is gone and the sound I heard was retreating steps, and I quietly stand up and go out the other door. Am I hiding from Ranger? Yes, yes, I am. If he was too ashamed of what happened between us to even stick around until I could clean him off my body, who am I to throw myself in his face?