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A heavy thud follows that scream. Ghost appears at the top of the staircase, looking like the specter of death as the flames cast shadows on his smiling face.
“You guys ready to have some fun tearing this motherfucker apart so we can get at the fun, gooey answers in the middle? Because I know I am.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Alexandra
“I can’t believe you’ve never been painted before. You simply must sit for me sometime.”
The words make me blush, but the wine in my glass gives me the patience to endure the woman saying them, even though she delivers them as she tenderly brushes my cheek in a way that makes me wonder if she is just suggesting painting me as a way to see me naked, like that scene with Kate Winslet in Titanic. From the second I met her, I knew Serenity Moon would be way too much for me. Thankfully, I’m not here at her shop — Tide & Palette — alone. Several other women from the Steel Reapers are with me. There’s Thunder’s ol’ lady, Amelia, and Striker’s ol’ lady, Danielle, who also is Dixon’s sister, and Rook’s ol’ lady, Eliza, and Striker’s sister, Jennifer, are here and Moose is here, too.
I hadn’t planned on coming to this little art gallery in one of the trendier neighborhoods in Costa Oscura, I’m still not in on all the events that the club’s ol’ ladies get up to, and I have the distinct impression that there’s a group text or two that I’ll have to earn my way onto, but I showed up to Reid’s Repairs looking like I was in a good mood — I distinctly remember smiling, both because of Dixon’s news and the strangely positive and loving talk I had with my dad — and Rook took one look at me, shook his head, and told me to get down to Tide & Palette because they couldn’t deal with having my attitude around the shop today. He’s club president, scary and grumpy as hell, and, as I sip the wine and eat a bacon-wrapped shrimp off a skewer, I’m glad I’m here and not there.
Even if it means being told embarrassing compliments in front of a bunch of the club’s ol’ ladies and all the other gallery’s customers who are here for the opening of a new collection.
“That’s nice of you, but I’m not the ‘be painted’ type,” I say. “The only models I’m interested in are Harleys, Triumphs, Indians, and the occasional Honda.”
“That’s garbage, Alex. Garbage,” she says, using my nickname even though I’ve known her for five minutes and introduced myself using my full name. “Your eyes. They tell such a story. I look at them, and I just feel swallowed. No, transported… There’s life behind them, and love, and pain…”
I blink and look away.
Yes, there’s pain, and you sure as hell will not hear about it or paint it. And if you try to tell me some bullshit about letting you use my pain in your art, I will punch your face off, lady.
Moose clears his throat. He must see the look on my face.
“Serenity, this new collection of yours… What’s it called?”
I smile at Moose, grateful for his interruption.
“The artist calls the collection ‘Nudes laid bear.’ And the reason should be pretty self-evident. Naked people laying on bearskin rugs. It works well, no? It’s primal, feral, bold.”
Moose nods, thoughtfully. “Was the artist Aleksei Navarro?”
“Yes. Excellent guess. Do you know him?”
“It wasn’t a guess. You might say that I know him. I think I’m in this collection.”
“I don’t recall seeing any paintings that had you in it, Moose,” Serenity says. “You have a very distinctive face.”
“He, uh, didn’t paint my face.”
After a split-second, her eyes go wide. “Was that you? The piece called ‘Kodiak King?’”
“Yes, that’s me. Oh goodie. Is it here?”
Serenity’s eyes drift down, like she’s looking for something in her wineglass. Maybe a way out. “No. It’s in back.”
“What? Why? Don’t you like it?”
“Serenity, shouldn’t it be out here with the rest of the paintings in the collection?” I say, sensing her discomfort and wanting to pile on. It’s petty, but I feel like she needs to be taken down a peg or seventy. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Amelia give me a warning look, and I return an apologetic smile. Not that I’m actually sorry, but I don’t want to be pissing off the ol’ lady of the MC’s secretary.
“Parts of it are, uh, shockingly large. And the painting itself is just enormous. I had to put a cover over it because I just couldn’t stop staring at it. When I first saw it, I just got so confused. Disoriented, even. I thought I had only looked at it for a second, maybe two, but when I checked my phone, an entire hour had passed. Then I collapsed onto a tatami pillow, and I had to drink so much water, it was like I was dying of thirst. My head was spinning, and I was just…” Serenity sighs, her eyes wide, pupils dilated. “I do not believe in censorship. Art is sacred. But this painting… I have to look after the health and safety of my clients. If you insist on seeing it, I will show it to you, but I will need you to sign a waver, first.”
Amelia stands up, a hint of challenge in her posture and a smirk on her face. "I'll sign your waiver. I want to see what's got Serenity all hot and bothered."
A ripple of laughter passes through the group, chased by a few curious glances from Jennifer and Eliza. I add my laughter to the others. I’m sure the painting can’t be that bad. Serenity has to be exaggerating for effect. Besides, it feels good to be a part of the group.
Serenity blinks several times, as if trying to regain composure, and then nods.
