While dismissing Benedict’s zealous demeanor, I set sight on Gustavo Lara. I mutter, “Speaking of Italians.”
Benedict pats my shoulder. “See. Looking out for you, always. Wanna sign our contract now or later?”
“Later.” If you don’t renege.
“At least tell me what’s beneath that?” He gestures to a canvas that extends two floors, covered in white linen. Numerous paintings are still masked. People are exceedingly curious about that one.
I look up the stairs again to where Essence tugs at the collar of her dress. When her eyes meet mine, a smile falls over her face.
“Ready, preciosa?” I mouth.
One of her shoulders lifts.
I wink, then head toward the makeshift stage. Exposed on the podium is one of the pieces that was never covered. It’s entitled ‘Wet.’ Essence was on that precise platform where she first orgasmed for me.
Near the stage stands our mutual mentor, Imani, whose silver-streaked hair compliments her gray gown. “Manny, I’ll do the honors.”
“You wouldn’t happen to be ensuring that I’m on my best behavior?”
“Exactly.”
I snort. “Then I must decline your assistance.”
“I see a certain someone,” Imani subtly cocks her head to Lara, “who’ll run if he senses a coup d’état.”
Looping my hair back into a ponytail, I relent, “I’ll bring Essence down.”
“Marvelous, Manny.”
Imani steps on stage, and the seasoned beauty gathers the crowd’s attention. At the top step of Essence’s loft, I claim her hand.
“Do you know, Essence, it took a lot of licking, tongue thrusts, and falling to my knees just to get up here the first time?” I whisper as Imani speaks our praises.
“You’re lucky I allowed you into my bed and,” she pauses, “my heart.”
“Yo-your heart, Essence?” I ask as mine skips too many beats.
As she’s nodding, lights flood on us. Fuck, those extra touches I added, including lights. Applause pumps my eardrums as Essence squeezes my hand.
It’s go-time, and I’m elated by what she’s said.
I’ve Essence’s heart. She stole mine on day one.
I click on the wireless microphone. “Ahem, as many of you know, years have passed since my last art exhibit. I’m rusty, forgive me.”
Encouraging and pretentious laughter blends into the atmosphere.
“For my first time back, I was blessed to collaborate with Essence Tavers, my amazing muse.”
Across the room, women’s eyes cut with envy. They envision themselves in her place.
“More than a muse, actually. Essence has challenged, taught, chastised, and inspired me. I’ll stop there, mi preciosa. We have...” Forever “all night for me to praise you.”
Her cheeks burn while we connect on an intimate level.
I scrub a hand over my jaw and address the audience, “You will soon see canvases created by the both of us. The best of them, though, were created by this beautiful woman.”
“Stop.” She playfully pushes my arm before speaking to attendees. “Again, I’d like to welcome you to my art gallery, whether it’s your first time or you’ve returned. I derive great pleasure from watching people first set eyes on a piece of art, so your presence is an honor...”
Minutes later, Essence seeks my hand at her side. We discussed this next step where I’d take the lead. “Before Ms. Tavers and I uncover the remaining art pieces, there’s one in particular that’ll leave you breathless. Don’t take my word for it.”
I gesture to Kyleigh at the top of Essence’s loft to remove the rope holding the linen over the massive canvas. Instead of a drawing, Kyleigh reveals a blown-up photo of Essence.
My woman was twenty.
Wet behind the ears.
Full of life. Hope. Her smile rivaled the Taj Mahal as she stood next to her half-complete painting of The Louvre, later signed by Gustavo. The murmurs in the room compete with his shout. “What’s the meaning of this?”
I name three other paintings, then accusingly snap, “Was Essence the only one you stole from, Gustavo?”
My heart pounds in my fucking chest. The first time I beat a man to within an inch of his life, we never sought criminal justice. Alexis refused. I’ve constantly been tortured by the thought of my daughter’s molester harming other women. I’d stopped painting until Essence because I was plagued by that question.
But as I probe Gustavo, he isn’t the one to respond. A blondie, who could be Alexis’ age, unhooks herself from beneath his arm and steps forward on shaky legs. She anxiously exclaims, “Gustavo stole from me, too.”
Chapter 14
Essence
Over the next 30 minutes, a war zone descended on my gallery. Child, please! Gustavo did not have 30 minutes of fight in him. Antonio’s first punch rocketed into his jaw. Gustavo was laid out! The weakling damn near carried out a podium while clinging to it as Antonio dragged him out of the building.
The highbrows of Los Angeles noshed on appetizers, sipped bubbly, and marveled at art. By the time 30 minutes had expired, Gustavo had returned with the police. A collective group vouched how he initiated the fight, including the woman who came with him. The two officers hauled him off, laughing over Messy Mandy’s posts and social media.