CHAPTER 9
LACY
I meet Edwin in the hallway. It’s a little weird how I went from being below him on the career ladder to this. Now he calls me Miss Brewster and bows to me whenever I enter or exit a room. And as expected, he bows as I walk up to him.
“Edwin, gosh. You don’t have to bow to me.”
“Well, I do, my dear. You are technically my superior now.”
“But I’m not really! Really, I’m not.”
I love Edwin. I’m sure he’s as gay as the tooth fairy. He even gets manicures down the block from Howie’s place. He’s always clean and smells like peppermint aftershave.
“Whatever you say, Miss Brewster. Has the master found out that you’re not twenty-one yet?” he says.
“Yes, he has. I don’t think Mr. Bates minds at all how young I am.”
“Still, it’s always better to stick to Shirley Temples. This city can drive a lady to drink!”
I laugh.
“Well, New York has been good to me lately. Let’s hope my luck holds out.”
Edwin beams.
“Of course, my dear girl. You look impeccable, might I add? Like a blond Sophia Loren. It’s every small town girl’s dream to come upon a life like this, and you are perfect for the part.”
I smile but it’s tremulous. Why did he say I was playing a part? Have other women inhabited this role before?
But I shake my head, determined not to let the words get to me. Edwin is an elderly man, and I’m just reading into things when actually, there’s nothing there.
We walk to the private elevator within Howie’s penthouse. Before, I didn’t even know people had private elevators. Such is the luxury that Mr. Bates has introduced me to.
I press the ivory up button before Edwin has a chance. Sometimes, I like pushing the buttons myself and pretending I’m still a lowly maid pining after my boss. Edwin scowls at me.
“It’s my job to take care of you now,” he admonishes as we step into the elevator.
“Edwin, I don’t have any reason to doubt it- but- well, promise you won’t say anything?” I look the butler deep in the eyes.
“What is it Lacy? Your secret is safe with me.”
“It’s just that, well … um, do you think that Howie really, really loves me?”
“Oh, Angel.” Edwin hugs me as the elevator slowly moves downwards. “You know, in all my years of working for Mr. Bates, never once have I seen him bring a woman into such close quarters. Never once have I seen that look in his eye, the melting softness of his heart. It’s never happened before, my dear. You are the only one that has broken through the Howie force field, so yes, I’d say he loves you. If he hasn’t told you of his feelings with all these gifts and treats and trips, well, he will soon. He will. Now, step this way please.”
Edwin steps out of the elevator and leads me out onto the third floor. How strange. I’ve been staying in Howie’s penthouse for a month and yet I’ve never been to this part of it. Not even to clean when I was a maid, this place is so huge. I would get lost in here if it wasn’t for Edwin.
“Have you ever posed for an artist before?” the butler asks kindly.
I shake my head as he laughs.
“You’ll be wonderful, darling. Just choose a pose you can hold for a while. That’s my only advice.”
I giggle as well.
“So, who’s the artist anyway?”
“Oh, he’s someone ….”
“He?” I interrupt, stupefied. I can’t believe Howie would actually let me enter a private room with another man. My alpha is so possessive and I love it.
“Yes, he. He’s somebody I found off of the Veteran’s Artist Collective website. It’s a good cause that helps vets get work as artists in the city. Besides, this particular vet had a very good portfolio. I was incredibly impressed, and to be honest, he’s a lot better than most of the painters showing in the Chelsea galleries. So I made an executive decision and called him. He was happy to come by. He’s a great emerging talent Lacy. Just be careful, okay? Some of these guys have a lot of trauma. Anything can arouse old feelings and bring back memories of combat.”
Still, I was puzzled. Something didn’t seem kosher.
“So Mr. Bates doesn’t know that the artist is a man?” I asked slowly.
Edwin stops at the door to what must be the studio.
“Well gosh, I guess not. Mr. Bates was so busy that I just didn’t have time to tell him. Besides, many of the great artists are men, so why does it matter? Michelangelo, Rembrandt, and Vermeer were all men, and they did perfectly lovely work. Anyways, go on in. The artist is waiting for you already.”
I pause again.
“You’re not going in with me?”
“No need. I don’t want to disturb the perfect energy between the artist and muse. Please proceed.”
Edwin walks away down the hall, his back retreating slowly. I don’t know what it is, but I have a sinking feeling in my gut. I don’t know what’s behind this door, but part of me wants to scamper back to the elevator and find Howie. Part of me wants to seek the comfort of my lover’s arms.
But that can’t happen. Besides, I’m acting crazy. What’s so bad about getting your portrait done? So I tell myself that this is what Mr. Bates wants. He wants my portrait painted twenty times over. He wants to see me all over his penthouse. Plus, this is for a good cause. The Veteran Artist’s Collective is the kind of organization Howie and his Princess should support.
Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and enter a giant room, full of drawing tables and Greek columns on the walls. There is a man in the center with his back towards me. He doesn’t move a muscle when the door screeches against the cold marble of the studio floor. My white outfit matches the room perfectly. I walk over to the painter. My heels sound dreadfully loud on the polished floor.
But it turns out that my Spidey sense was right on point because when the artist turns his head, I almost drop dead.
It’s Charlie. My ex-boyfriend. The one who convinced me I had to get all dolled-up and act slutty for men to like me. The one who played video games while I looked for work to support us both.
I should have guessed. In my heart of hearts, I knew as soon as Edwin mentioned the veteran’s collective. Because not only was Charlie a veteran, but the last time I saw him, he’d taken up watercolors. All those times he said we were going to be together, when he watched TV and slugged beer, he’d had a sketchpad on his lap. Near the end of our relationship, he’d bought a cheap watercolor set from the children’s section of the toy store. Now he was a full blown commissioned portrait artist? What were the chances?
To his credit, Charlie’s almost as surprised to see me as I am him.
“L-L-Lacy?” he stammers awkwardly. He drops his graphite pencil, eyes opening wide.
“Oh my god, Charlie. You’re a painter now?”
“Well, yeah. I- Well. After you left for good I had to do something new. I had to funnel all of that pain somewhere.”
I’m wide eyed. Perhaps even a little scared. Where’s Howie? He would hate knowing that I’m in the same room as my ex.
“Lacy, you know Howard Bates? How? We’re from the wrong side of the tracks, so how did someone like you end up here?”
I decide to ignore the implied insult.
“Look Charlie, a lot has changed since we last dated. We don’t know each other anymore. Not really.”
He looks at my outfit, eyes going wide.
“You must be shitting me. You’ve been seeing the Howard Bates? As in dating the man?”
“Charlie!”
He sputters.
“What were the chances? Because Howard Bates is my buddy, didn’t you know? We were in the same squad in Afghanistan way back when, covering for each other when mortar came hurtling through the sky. Holy shit! This is incredible.”
I want to leave, but that would be unladylike. Plus, I have to admit that Charlie’s new artistic lifestyle has been good for him. He has a little scruff on his chin. His blond hair is more grown out. He looks like he’s been working out and drinking less. He has a white tunic on, tucked into strange wool pants. He really looks like a painter now. I look down on a chair and see a black beret.
“Are you serious? You wear a black beret when you paint?” I say with disbelief.
“Lacy, I’m changing my life. I really mistreated you back then, and I’m so sorry. Can you forgive me?”
Charlie starts to inch near to me. I back up.
“Charlie, no! Can’t you see what’s happening here? I belong to Howie now,” I say firmly. “Plus, everything’s different. I see that you’re trying to change your life to become a painter. This is good for you, and I want to help you achieve your dream. But you have to play by the rules. I am in a serious relationship with Howie, and if he finds out who you are to me, he’ll kill you. He’ll slice you up, Charlie, with no remorse. Howie’s that kind of man. Plus, I know better than anybody how much you need the money from this gig. I know your old spending habits, and how you had hundreds of thousands racked up in credit card debt. This is your opportunity to get out from under all that.”
Charlie looks ashamed.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, suddenly exasperated.
“This is just a wild coincidence. You being Howie’s buddy from the field. Plus, the whole Veterans’ Collective thing. What were the chances? But seize the opportunity, Charlie, and don’t screw it up like you’ve screwed up stuff in the past.”
Charlie looks down at his feet which are sheathed in tattered canvas sneakers. The old Charlie would never wear such a look.
“I see you want to be a painter Charlie. You even dress like one now. Let’s just leave it at that. I’ll help you. You can paint me, but under one condition.”
He sits down in the chair.
“What is it?”
“You don’t say one word to me when you’re working. And if you even make the tiniest move, I’m going to have Howie hire someone to torture you.”
Charlie swallows.
“So they sex is really that good, huh? You can make him do anything?” he asks dryly.
I shoot him a scathing look.
“Stop it.” My voice is firm.
“Sorry. I won’t say anything. I’ll just draw you. That’s all.”
“So you agree?”
“I agree.”
“Great. Let’s just get the sketch done so that you can start on the portraits.” I sit down, staring ahead at the wall with what I hope is a serene expression.
“Okay. I’ll do it all, but under one condition,” says Charlie.
I sigh.
“What is it?”
“You don’t make fun of my beret.”
I pause and look at his beret. This is going to be hard. It looks like something Mickey Mouse would wear in Fantasia.
“Agreed.”
And silently, I sit down as Charlie pulls his easel over. I hope I’ve made the right decision because I know my man. Howard Bates is a possessive male and if he finds out that I’ve said nothing to him about being in close quarters with my ex, he’ll go berserk.