***
I'd just finish up on the highlights to my latest piece when the doorbell rang. Jonathan. Right on time.
After wiping my hands on a hand towel, I walked languidly to the door and opened it. "Hey, man. Come on in. I just finished the piece I was telling you about."
"Matt. Good to see you too." He rolled his eyes and walked in. "Where's Erica?"
"She's at work. I guess the good people of the world are punching the clock. Thank God for them. I think the rest of us would starve without them."
"This is true. Show me the magic." Jonathan followed me back to my studio, the gangly fellow looking like the true depiction of an artist. I had too much of my father in me to look like anything but a frat boy. It was a curse, but it landed me in Erica's bed, so something was working right.
"Here it is." I stepped back and studied it.
"Wow. That's magnificent. We'll get it up to the studio and hang it in your section when it's fully dry, and you've done your final work on it." He clapped his hands and turned to me. "Now... the real reason I came by."
I put my hands on my hips. "I thought you came by to look at this."
"I did, but let's go into the kitchen and chat for a minute. I have a project that's been laid on my desk that I think you might enjoy working on."
"You know I hate working contract." I walked behind him and tried hard not to let myself act like a cock. Jonathan had been good to me, and the future was bright because of him. He was even interested in checking out some of Erica's work too.
Now, if I could just get her to let loose and put some paint on a canvas.
"I understand that, but you know it pays well." He walked over to my kitchen table and dropped down. "It's a pretty interesting project. I'd do it myself, but I have too many irons in the fire as it is."
"What's the project, who's it for and what's the pay?" I moved into the kitchen and poured us both a cup of coffee, like little old men. "Cream and sugar?"
"Both, please. I like my coffee and tea like a dessert."
"The English would boo you right out of their country." I smiled up at him. "Keep going. I'm listening."
"It's for a private investor, a silent one, actually." He leaned back in his chair. "It's eight pieces, and all of them are chosen already. They're various people and places here in Seattle, so no travel would be required."
"There's a bonus." I walked over to the table and set our mugs down. "The pay?"
"Two million for the project, and a bonus of five hundred thousand if you can get it done in the next four months."
"Four months for eight paintings? That's going to be pushing it, big time." Excitement raced through my chest. It was a great payday and more than I would make working for my father and Damon over the next three to four years.
The only issue was being told what to paint. That part weighed heavily on me.
"Seems like a nice sum of money. And what's got you so tied up that you're willing to part with something this big?" I picked up my mug and blew gently on my coffee.
"We're looking at opening another art gallery in New York City this spring. It's a huge undertaking, and I'm not quite sure we're ready, but my wife thinks differently. She says it's time to open another storefront." He shrugged. "What the wife wants, she usually gets one way or another."
I smiled. "I'm going to ask Erica to marry me sometime next year. Probably early spring. It just depends on how everything goes."
"And things are going well now?" He ran his finger around the edge of his mug but kept his eyes locked on me.
Everything was great, other than the fact that she had something going on that I wasn't privy to. It had to be something to do with work. Had to be.
"Oh yeah. She's a dream."
"And a beautiful one at that." Jonathan leaned over and pulled out a folder. "I have the contract here for the special project if you want to give it a look."
"I'll do that." I took the folder from him and tried to relax. It was a good next step for me, and maybe having a contract in place would encourage Erica to step out and dream alongside me. Not that she wasn't supporting my dreams, but I wanted to help support hers. There was no way in hell that she was truly happy working for my father.
I'd only been there a few days and already felt like a hamster in a cage.
"Alright, Matthew. I need to be going. I have a million things to do today." He stood up, pulling me from my reverie. "Just phone the office and let them know when you're done with the mountain piece. We'll send the guys over to get it."
"Awesome." I got up and walked him to the door. "Hey, Jonathan."
"What's up?" He walked out and turned back, lifting his eyebrow.
"Who was the guy that bought the painting of Erica? Anyone you know?"
"He's a young art collector from London. Very wealthy fellow, actually. I've worked with him several times."
"And he got his money from inheritance?"
"Yes. He's very much into supporting new artists, especially ones as talented as you."
"Alright. Thanks." I closed the door behind him and forced my thoughts away. As long as Mitch Roberson didn't end up with the painting I was good. "Speaking of..."
I grabbed my phone and dropped down on the couch, calling my brother. He answered right away.
"Hey, bro. What's going on?"
"Hey, man. I meant to get a little bit more time with you when I was home, but I cut the trip short."
"I'd say so. You left the day after you got there." His jovial tone lifted my spirits. "I'm guessing either Erica wanted you home, or you were missing her like a big ass girl."
"Yep. All of the above." I ran my hand over my chest. "I wanted to talk to you about Mitch."
"Roberson?"
"Yeah. That guy." My thoughts darkened. Something about the man gave me the creeps. Where my father and Damon thought a lot of him, I couldn't help but see around the edge of his bullshit good guy persona. Was he the one making Erica feel off?
Damon chuckled. "Why the dark remark?"
"I don't like him."
"Why? Because he has great tastes and wanted to buy the picture of Erica?"
"For starters."
"Matt. Seriously? You painted the damn thing and hung it in a gallery for everyone to come and see. You wanted someone to buy it. It's nice to think that a stand-up guy like Mitch would buy it and treat it well versus some idiot who jacks off to it in his living room every morning."
Sickness danced in my stomach. "You think the guy that bought it does that?"
"Alright. Moving on. You're being an idiot, and I don't have time for that. What do you need?"
"I just wanted to know more about Mitch."
"He's a guy who's smart as fuck, friends with dad, and lost his wife a long time ago. He's one of the good people in the world. Leave it alone."
"Fuck you too," I grumbled.
"Next?"
"I know we briefly talked about it, but I can’t shake whatever is going on with Erica. I keep trying to leave it alone, but I just can’t."
"Maybe she’s realized that she’s dating a dweeb." He snorted.
I ignored him being an ass. He had been one most of my life. "She's been in a really weird funk since the art showing. You think she's mad at me for painting the portrait of her."
"Didn't she pose naked for hours for you to paint it?"
"Something like that." I hated him for making so much goddamn sense.
"Alright, buddy. I'm glad we had this talk. Call if you need anything."
"I hate you sometimes." I dropped the call and leaned back on the couch, closing my eyes. I was over-thinking all of it. Erica wasn't upset with me. She'd have let me know in one way or the other the night before, and she hadn't. She'd been more than happy to make love to me deep into the night.
My phone buzzed, and I grabbed it, expecting it to be Damon.
"What?" I barked angrily into the phone.
Erica's voice surprised me. "Hey, baby. You okay? You sound upset."
I chilled immediately. "Oh yeah. I just got off the phone with Damon, and he made me feel stupid. He's pretty good at that."
"Well, you're not stupid. Tell me about the meeting with Jonathan. Did everything go okay? Did he like the new piece?"
I spent the next few minutes telling her about my meeting with Jonathan. The sound of her getting more and more excited over the details had me feeling far more confident in my abilities than I had before we talked.
"Well, I'm crazy proud of you."
"Thanks, baby." I stood up and stretched. "You sure you can't come over tonight?"
"I wish. I owe Lanie some time, and if I know I'm going home to an empty house, then I won't rush through dinner to get to you. She's back in a contemplative mode where she's trying to figure out her life and who she is. I need to be there for her."
"Alright. I understand." And I did, but I didn't like it.
"Enjoy the rest of your day, okay?"
"Alright, baby. You sure you're doing good? I keep feeling like maybe there's something you're not telling me."
"Nope. I'm good. Better now that you're home."
"Love you," I whispered into the phone, a little shocked at how natural it felt to say it.
"Love you too."
She was more than I could hope for and so much more than I deserved. I just prayed like hell that she stayed mine. Something told me that something or someone was lurking just around the bin to take her from me.
I couldn't shake the fact that I knew exactly who it was too.
Mitch.