Oh, La-la!

Chapter 6. Ash

“I guess that’s pretty enough, though I’m not sure why anyone would put it in their home.” Beth was driving me insane tonight. We had gone to dinner at her favorite Italian food restaurant where four raviolis cost almost as much as a full tank of gas to make up for me dragging her to the gallery, but she wasn’t even trying to hide that this wasn’t her idea of a good time.

The moment we walk in the door, I spot Kayla and I’m pretty sure my heart just skipped a few beats. Her hair is swept up into a twist, leaving a few tendrils free to brush the tops of her shoulders. The halter neck dress reveals a tattoo of a spray of sweet peas that trails along her shoulder blade and disappears under the bodice. The form-fitting dress ends a few inches past her ass and long, muscular legs make my mind go fuzzy in a way that’s a wholly inappropriate way for me to be thinking about my friend. She shifts her weight from side to side, and I start wonder what she was thinking wearing stilts when she would almost certainly be on her feet all night. She turns and I have to focus on my breathing as I try to decide if the plunge could still be classified as a neckline. It’s low enough to glimpse the sweet pea tattoo that obviously follows the curve of her ribcage to end under her breasts. The practiced smile she has plastered on her face falters for the briefest moment, and I realize how exhausted she must be. It’s back before anyone else can notice as another woman touches her arm and says something to her that Kayla answers with a small nod.

Kayla’s eyes suddenly find me and her smile turns genuine. She says something to the woman next to her and makes her way through the crowd. “You made it!” she exclaims just before her arms wrap me in a tight embrace.

Ignoring the heat radiating off Beth beside me, I return the hug. “Wouldn’t have missed it. You look nice,” I groan internally. Nice? Really? Nice is something you say to your grandmother when she’s wearing her best dress for brunch. Nice really doesn’t do justice to how Kayla looks right now.

She fidgets slightly, but grins at me. “Thank you. You scrub up pretty well yourself.” Turning her beaming smile to Beth she says, “And you must be Beth! I’ve heard so much about you, I feel like I already know you! Although, I have to admit that I didn’t think anyone could be as beautiful as Ash describes you.” She’s laying it on a little thick, but with Beth, that’s probably not thick enough. “I’m sorry,” she says, turning back to me. “From now on I won’t question your judgement.” I just roll my eyes at her, the little minx.

“Hmm…” Beth sniffs like she just found gum on the bottom of her shoe. “Ash left out a few details about you. I need a drink.” Without another word she sashays off, leaving Kayla and I staring after her. I want to apologize for her rudeness, but I’m shocked speechless.

“Well,” Kayla sighs, “that could’ve gone better.”

I shake my head, not really sure how to explain Beth’s attitude. Part of me wants to follow her, tell her to lighten up, but she’s been a pain in my ass all evening and I’ve had enough of trying to soothe her ego. Besides, I came here tonight to support Kayla, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do. “Don’t worry about her, she’s just in a mood. So?” At her blank look I add, “There’s a lot of people here. Is it going well?”

“I guess,” she shrugs. “I don’t really know. I mean, all these people? How horrible will it be if literally nothing sells?” She glances to the side and lets out a tiny, strangled groan. “And I’m not doing a very good job of ingratiating myself to the rich people.”

I chuckle. “I’m sure it’s not that bad. Come on, show me your favorite piece here.”

“My favorite?” she chews her bottom lip nervously. “Well, this one is the darling of the show, which is why she was given pride of place,” she says as she leads me over to the sculpture Beth had first spotted in the middle of the entry way. The mermaid is startlingly beautiful and I half expect her to open her eyes and beckon me closer like a siren in a Greek tragedy.

“Wow.” I’m rendered speechless again, this time by a rush of emotions running through me. “Kayla, this is truly incredible.”

“Thanks,” she says dryly and I realize she’s scowling at the beautiful mermaid.

“This is your favorite?” I squint at her.

“My personal favorite? No, not really,” she admits. “But Cecelia- that’s the manager here- she says it’s choice.”

“It certainly is choice,” I agree, trying not to laugh at how insecure she seems even though her talent is on full display right now. “But I want to see the one you love the most.”

She pauses to study me and I can almost hear the gears working in her head. “Ok, follow me,” she finally says, “it’s kind of hidden in the back here because it doesn’t really fit with the rest.”

She leads me through the gallery and I steal glances at the rest of her collection as we weave in and out of people. They’re all captivating, and there are more than a few that I want to go back and get a better look at. The colors explode around us, exquisite faces peering through feathers and scales. All manner of creatures are represented, and each and every one looks ready to walk amongst the crowd. Kayla slows to a stop in a dark corner in front of what appears to be the figure of a woman laying on her side. I forget to breathe when I look at her. It feels as though I’m glimpsing a moment of privacy, an inner battle that makes me want to look away, yet, at the same time, I’m compelled to dive deeper. The smooth contours beg to be stroked, which probably explains the sign underneath that reads ‘DO NOT TOUCH’ in bold red letters.

“Why aren’t you doing this full time?” emotion makes my voice come out harsher than I meant for the question to sound. I can’t understand how she can possibly be happy staring at a computer screen all day when she’s capable of creating this, though.

She takes a few breaths while staring back at me, until, almost as though a switch has been thrown, her eyes go dim and she shrugs. “Doesn’t pay the bills. It’s not really predictable or steady income,” she sounds like she’s reciting someone else’s words, and, not for the first time, I find myself wondering who it was that made her think she needed to fit in a box. “It means a lot that you seem to like my work,” she adds quietly, not quite looking at me anymore.

I want to say something to make her realize how absolutely incredible she is. Her eyes slowly lift to mine and the world seems to tilt on its axis. Every cell in my body wants to hold her, claim her as mine, protect her and cherish her. Pink highlights her cheeks and she takes a small step away from me. Holy s**t, asshole, get it together! I think. What am I doing?

I need to get control of this, fast. Desperate to get back on a safer subject, I clear my throat and manage to choke out, “So, where’s your least favorite piece?”

“My least favorite?” she seems distracted, and who can blame her? I’m shocked she’s not running for the hills. “Probably on my bedroom floor somewhere.”

“I’d like to see that sometime, too,” I say the words without thinking. I’m not sure when my brain turned to mush, but I’m sure Kayla is going to smack me and stop talking to me if I can’t get my act together, fast! “The artwork!” I try to correct my mistake, but the look on her face tells me it’s too late. “Not… f*ck. Sorry,” I mumble. If I keep talking, I’m just going to make everything worse.

Her giggle is instantly reassuring. This is why I’ve gotten so dependent on her presence. She really doesn’t play games, and seems not to hold a grudge.

“While I try to remove my foot from my mouth,” I grin at her sheepishly, “why don’t you show me your least favorite that’s here. In the gallery.”

“Hmm…” she mulls the question over in her head while tapping her fingers to her thumb. “Probably the first one I showed you.”

“The mermaid?” my eyebrows quirk in question as she nods. “Is that because she’s the show’s darling?”

“You don’t know me that well,” she teases. “But also because I worked so hard on her and I still see every flaw glaring at me.”

“That one is probably as close to technically perfect I’ve ever seen,” I admit. “But this one? This one is… indescribable.”

“Thank you,” her voice is barely above a whisper, and once again the urge to protect her rushes through me.

“I have to ask a really awkward question, though.” I know I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t be noticing things like this, but I can’t help it.

“My favorite type. Shoot.”

“Are you taped or glued into that dress?” the words come out in a rush before I can decide better.

“No. Why?” she starts to fidget, making the neckline gap, showing even more of that delicate, forbidden skin, and I suck air between my teeth. “It’s too much, isn’t it?”

“No,” I shake my head, “it’s not too much. I’m just not used to seeing you… so much of you, and it makes it impossible to concentrate.” Maybe I can pretend this is the reason my body is acting like an eighteen-year-old with hormones running wild. I mean, I’m engaged, and Kayla is my friend, but I’m still a man, and she looks sexy as f*ck. It’s not like I’m going to do anything more than just appreciate the view. “I think I need a drink,” I decide, “and we need people around us.” As long as we’re in a crowd of people, I’m sure I’ll be able to keep my inner cave man in check.