Blake
I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
How could you have been so stupid, my reflection screams at me. And I shake my head.
My spoon swirls aimlessly in my bowl. Not even my favorite breakfast cereal tastes any good any more.
With Katherine gone, it’s as if someone has taken all the oxygen out of my apartment.
The ship is sinking and I am the only one left on it. A voice deep down tells me to do something about this.
Mateo had tried to warn me. He said something about the art world being a small community and other things I no longer recall.
I toss my half-finished bowl into the sink. Silently I apologize to Camilla for the mess I’m leaving.
Was it arrogance on my part that had caused this train wreck? I should have known Dale would stick his head in where it doesn’t belong. After all, he had done the same with his dick.
I pace my apartment like a caged animal. The walls feel as though they are closing in on me. How could I have been so stupid?
Of course dickhead Dale would get into her ear: Dale whose dick had caused so much hurt and upset.
I kick my oversized exercise ball and watch it roll across the floor. With a sigh I walk to the studio. Maybe painting will help.
It is without any enthusiasm I mix my paints. I have to force myself to pick up a paintbrush.
Listless, I move my brush into the red and then make random strokes across the canvass.
A broken heart emerges. My broken heart.
I can’t understand what motivated Dale to blab to Katherine, particularly since he doesn’t know the whole story, the entire surprise.
I sigh.
Then I punch the canvass and see the red on my knuckles. Bastard. Prick. Asshole.
Take some responsibility man, my inner voice grumbles.
I finish smashing the canvass. I feel no better.
Maybe I should start over.
I grab another blank canvass and start again. This time I’m using yellow. A giant round face with tears running down its cheek shows up. It kind of looks like an emoji. It brings a smile to my face, briefly. From world-class paintings to fucking emojis – maybe that’s all I’ll be able to do without Katherine in my life.
I should have thought things through. If I had given it more thought, I would have realized Katherine is vulnerable. She had been in a relationship with a bloke who had totally betrayed her.
I try to picture what that would feel like. How would I feel if Katherine had been with another guy whilst we were together? The image is like someone kicking me in the gut.
Ok. So I have screwed up.
I made a complete mess of things.
Leaving the painting I have started, I cross the studio and pull the cover off my masterpiece.
As soon as my eyes see her, my dick stirs.
For once, stop thinking with your dick, I remind myself.
I needed to fix this but I’m not sure how. Should I destroy the painting? And then what?
At the thought of destroying this amazing piece of art, I feel as if someone is stabbing me right through the heart with a pointy dagger. No I couldn’t destroy it. If I destroyed it I had nothing left. This way I at least have Katherine on canvass.
But I if I want to get her back, I have to do something.
In total frustration, I pace the length of my studio. Pictures of Katherine doing this after she had seen the painting of herself flash into my mind.
I run both hands through my hair. There must be a way to make amends. I’m not the bad guy. Dale’s to blame. Dale and that shriveled cock of his.
I might have fucked some of my models, but I would never cheat on a woman, particularly a woman I love.
Love. A four-letter word that has so much meaning.
It hits me; I love Katherine.
Maybe if I…
A plan builds in the back of my mind. Maybe I should try again and this time, do it properly. This time I need to do it thinking about Katherine and not myself.
I grab my mobile. I need to make a call. In my haste I drop the darn thing and it falls to the ground.
I groan and pick it up. Now the blasted thing has gone totally black. Don’t tell me it’s broken. My finger fumble to find the On button and I press it down. I wait. I count to four, yet the stupid thing’s screen remains black. Surely one fall could not be responsible for the death of the phone, or could it?
What should I do?
Suddenly I recall I did not recharge my mobile the night before. Maybe it was just out of battery.
I almost run into the bedroom where I keep the recharge.
As soon as I plug it into power source, a little red symbol appears.
Phew, it only needs a recharge. For some reason it seems to take hours for the phone to have enough battery for the display to come to life.
I crouch down next to the bedside table and scroll through recent calls. I’m tempted to call Katherine but I know she won’t answer it. The last hundred or so had gone straight to message bank.
Should I try a text? No, this time I’ll have to do something more personal.
My fingers scroll through contacts and hit call when Mateo’s name appear on the screen.
“What’s up, man?” Mateo shouts into the phone. Judging by the background noise he is somewhere where music is being played too loud.
“The show will go ahead Mateo.” I say and wish I wasn’t restricted to crouching. I’m too worked up to be sitting still.
“I can’t hear you Blake.”
I shake my head.
“That’s better.” Mateo comes through loud and clear.
“I was calling to tell you the show will go ahead. I’ll be attending to some changes. But you make sure it goes ahead please.”
I end the call before my agent can ask questions. I have work to do. I need to win back the woman I love.