20. Kaycia
Chapter 20
Kaycia
I returned to the grocery store the next morning without incident. The owner wasn’t there, just one of the part-time clerks, so no one mentioned the drama from the previous evening. I wasn’t lying when I told Shane watching him manhandle the strange, older man was hot, but I failed to mention the fear that shot through me at the sight of him so angry. Or how nervous I am now that I know someone is watching him. And maybe me. It’s almost shameful to admit how sad I felt watching him look so dejected as he opened his apartment door, as though he expected me to just let him walk away and disappear without stopping him.
Maybe I should have let him go, but a knot formed in my stomach at the idea of that being it between us. I spent last night lying awake and wondering if I should call things off, that tangle of sadness tightening as I tossed and turned. I don’t want to. It’s early in our relationship, but I really like Shane, and he’s done nothing but be kind and gentle to me. But the sensible part of me that kept me in my hometown for years past the expiration—working a stable job and being the good girl everyone always expected me to be—was busy making a pros and cons list of why this whole situation is a bad idea.
Was he in a gang of some sort? The mob? Why is he so closed off about it all? Was it really an accident or did he murder someone? Potential reasons, each worse than the next, popped up one after the other until I finally took a melatonin and forced myself to sleep. The same musings pirouette in my head as I walk back home, scanning the streets for anyone who might be watching me, pepper spray clasped tightly between my fingers.
When I near our building the cry of a falcon grabs my attention, pulling my gaze from the main stoop to the railing of Shane’s balcony. Sure enough, a peregrine falcon is perched on the wrought iron staring down at me. I don’t know if it’s the same bird that we saw the night we all hung out, but I laugh a little at the keen little thing. The bird cocks its head to the side and I get the distinct feeling that it's watching me. Giving it a little wave, then feeling silly that I’m waving at a wild animal, I open the main door and head up to my apartment.
Groceries unloaded, I step out onto the balcony to find the falcon still perched on Shane’s railing, head tilted toward me. “Hi, you,” I whisper, not wanting to scare it off. I snap a quick photo on my phone, sending it to Shane with the message:
Does this bird live here? It seems content. :)
Shane
You aren’t running around in your underwear for him, are you?
LOL – jealous of a bird now? Should I worry about you being a possessive jerk?
Shane
I mean, have you seen what you look like? I’m jealous of everyone. ;)
Shane
Everything all right this morning?
All good. Grabbed my groceries. Have a good day!
Shane
Good. You too.
I smile a little at him asking if I’m giving a bird a show, then settle in to work — first, making a list of everything I need to take to the gallery, then daydreaming about the weekend away Shane promised.
* * *
P acking the paintings into Max’s truck the following weekend is a relief. They lay flat, protected by cardboard and bubble wrap. What would have taken me several trips over multiple days is handled in one, and Shane expertly navigates the busy city streets on the way to the Red Lark. He backs into the loading area of the building with ease, one hand on the wheel and one on the back of my seat as he looks behind us. My stomach flutters when he casually brushes his fingers against my hair, making me want to climb over the console into his lap, but we have work to do.
Red Lark Gallery is one of the smaller venues on the block, but I’m still grateful to Kelly for taking a chance on an unknown. It’s still surreal to see my art hanging on the walls and to know I’ll be taking up an entire portion for the upcoming exhibition. I cried tears of joy the day she called to congratulate me on selling my first two pieces and that I should bring a couple more in to replace them. It was my first sale in the city and paid my bills that month. That sale proved that I hadn’t made a mistake with this move, and Kelly’s moral support has kept me afloat on days I doubt myself.
Now, it’s like a waking dream. Shane and I carrying in pieces for my first solo exhibition. It’s hard to believe in six and a half months I’ve already gotten this far, not only professionally, but personally as well. When I meet Shane’s eyes over the canvas he’s lifting from the truck bed, I can’t help but grin. Something special is happening here, however things work out.
“Kaycia, these are lovely,” Kelly remarks, strolling past the paintings I have propped against the walls while I plan out where they should hang. Her high heels click on the concrete floor with each step. She’s polished head to toe in a black sheath dress with her dark hair smoothed into an elegant chignon. Her jewelry glitters as she gestures to the pieces. “What are you thinking for the layout?”
“Well,” I start, remembering the speech I’ve rehearsed. “It’s a progression of the sky, so I’m deciding if I want it to begin at dawn, dusk, or midnight.”
“Sunset,” Shane murmurs, staring at one of the paintings that’s already hung. The colors are similar to those I’ve used on the painting still in progress, the sunset scene with his image, but this one centers on the outline of a woman sitting in a field dotted with flowers, elbows on her knees as she stares at the sinking sun.
“Pardon?” Kelly asks, not catching his soft words. She appraises him as she speaks, looking at him like he’s one of the pieces of art I’ve come to display.
Clearing his throat, he says louder, nodding toward the painting, “Sunset. It’s the best time to daydream. That’s where you should start.” He may be answering her question, but his eyes bore into mine as he speaks.
“Sunset Daydreams,” I reply. “I think that’s the name of the show.”
“I love it!” Kelly says with a smile, clapping her hands together and checking her smart watch. Scrolling through the message she looks back up long enough to say, “Arrange it how you like and I’ll have Anna and the techs make sure everything is hung accordingly. How many more do you have? I believe we discussed ten?”
“Yes, I have two more to finish and we should be there. Lots of ideas to work with.”
“Wonderful, I’ll leave you and your boyfriend to it.”
“Oh, he’s not my?—”
“Thanks, you have a beautiful gallery. Hopefully, I’ll see you again at the show,” Shane interrupts with a sideways look, reaching out to shake her hand.
“Thank you!” she replies, then whispers to me with a wink, “Inspiration indeed.”
Shane chuckles as she saunters off to speak with a couple at the front of the gallery, her clicking heels fading away with her, then pulls me close for a kiss. “Sorry, I just liked the sound of me being your boyfriend.”
“I didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, we haven’t defined anything. We barely started dating.”
“I told you, you’re my girl. I’m not looking at anyone else,” Shane whispers against the shell of my ear. He presses a kiss to the skin below before adding, “But I’ll let you tell me when you’re ready for a label,” before returning to his task of gathering the discarded cardboard and bubble wrap, leaving me standing in front of the progression of the sky with butterflies in my stomach.