Art of Love, page 1
The Art of Love
Khardine Gray
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 1
Jia
***
I pressed the phone to my ear and winced. Gripping on to it tight. I felt like screaming. Screaming and crying.
I couldn’t believe what Bernice was telling me. It couldn’t be true.
“Please, there must be something you can do,” I begged, wincing and trying to keep some level of control over myself.
The last thing I wanted to do was break down in the streets in a new town. Well... newish. I’d lived in L.A before but closer to Burbank, where the studio was. Not Echo Park.
Echo Park was a little different. I got the feeling I needed to watch my back a little more here, and I probably shouldn’t make myself look vulnerable.
Bernice sighed, and her breath made the line sound a little staticky.
“Jia, I wish I could say there were something else I could do, but I’m afraid I’ve used up all my ideas and resources.” Bernice at least sounded sad for me. She was the best lawyer I knew. The woman could wipe the floor clean with you, but she also had a heart. I’d always known her to be like that, right from college, and I guessed because we were friends, she went the extra mile for me. “I knew that the minute Bane left Atlanta with that much money, we’d be limited to what we could do. I hoped he would circle back. The cops picked him up in New York with a trunk full of drugs. It’s all out of my hands. It’s a federal matter now, and there is absolutely no sign of your money.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“I know Sam’s your best friend, but Jesus Christ, if I were you, I’d try to get some money back from her, and I would disown her. She’s too careless, Jia. It’s not the first time something bad has happened to you because of her. This is the worst, but fuck, how many more chances are you going to give her?” That was the angry side of Bernice.
Today I was in full agreement. I just wished I had the balls to disown my careless, reckless so-called best friend.
The overarching question was indeed, how many more chances was I prepared to give her?
Bane was her latest boyfriend. Sam had a tendency to go for men who took the meaning of rough around the edges to the next level. They all looked like they’d be more at home in prison. Like a secure unit where everyone was in solitary confinement. The minute I’d seen the tattoos on Bane’s face and all over his shaved head, I’d known the man was trouble. I wasn’t surprised when we found out he’d robbed her. But, to find out he’d robbed me too was... There were no words to describe the feeling.
Sam said she didn’t know how in the hell he managed to get into my savings account, but that she might have let it slip that my pin number was Brad Pitt’s date of birth.
Might? My ass. My so-called best friend used my Brad Pitt obsession against me in the worst way possible
Two weeks ago, the total savings in that account had over fifty thousand dollars. All hard-earned from work over the last three years.
Now I had nothing.
“Jia, are you still there?” Bernice asked.
Her voice broke into my thoughts.
“I’m here. I’m freaking out, but I’m here.”
“Look, I know you’re going to refuse, but I’m going to put some money in your account.”
“No, you can’t,” I darn right refused. I was grateful for the offer, but it would make me feel worse.
“I am. I’m your friend, and I know what going back to L.A means for you. If you want, you can pay me back when you’re able to, but I’m doing it.”
“You shouldn’t have to.” I was trying so hard not to cry. I really was, but a tear ran down my cheek. It just felt like everything was against me.
Every time I bounced back from the shit life decided to throw at me, something would happen. I didn’t know what I was going to do now because I’d had so much plans for that money.
“Well, I am. Hey, I got to go. I have court in twenty minutes, and I have to go through some reports. Call me if you need me.”
“Thanks, Bernice.” My voice came out barely above a whisper.
“Anytime.” I could almost imagine her nodding in her usual positive way with her long curly hair bouncing as she moved. “And chin up. You’re going back to what you love most. Focus on that.”
“Yeah,” I agreed and attempted to smile, although she couldn’t see me.
“Hugs and love.”
“You too.”
The minute she hung up, my arm went limp and I dropped my hand to my side, almost dropping my phone.
God, why was my life so shit?
Fifty thousand dollars gone just like that and because of Sam’s carelessness.
I was getting sick and tired of all these crazy antics with Sam.
I’d lived with her now for the last three years. We thought it was cheaper to live together because two of us paying for a nice three-bedroom house in the suburbs of Atlanta sounded a lot better than me living in the city where it wasn’t so nice.
But I nearly went crazy. It was one thing after another and always because of a guy. There was Tim, who stole my car; Dennis, who sent threatening notes to both of us and stalked me online when Sam broke up with him; Porter, who was a drug addict. There was Robert, who stole from her all the time to feed his gambling addiction; Jeff, who went to prison last year for securities fraud; and Brian, who conned her into giving him our rent money to help pay for medical treatment.
We heard he used the money to go on vacation and pay for escorts.
That had been the last stint, and it left us in five months arrears, which she’d hid from me. I’d been so busy and overwhelmed at the time that I couldn’t keep tabs on bills like that. I also didn’t just have myself to think about. I had my niece, Lana, who lived with us.
She was the only reason why I lived with Sam, and for so long, and because it seemed like a good idea at the time. The main plan was to use my savings to get us a place. A home of my own and a place Lana could come back to whenever she needed. It would be our home. I knew Lana would be going to college this year, so I tried to stick it out with Sam until then. Until now.
But hello nothing.
Nothing and no hope. Just my emergency funds and this money Bernice was giving me.
Shit, fuck. Fucking shit. Fuck this. I needed a drink.
Something strong.
I looked ahead, and my eyes landed on a quaint little bar called The Fish Tale. It had that trendy look most of the places around Echo Park had but a little rough like it could do with some work.
I headed there.
I’d arrived in L.A this morning and spent the day unpacking and setting up in my little apartment.
It was already a busy week with me seeing Lana off to college at UCLA. We’d both decided to arrange moving this month; the earlier the better. Her there and me here. At least we weren’t too far apart. Mid-August was nice and quiet in L.A. When I was here last I made the mistake of waiting until it was closer to the start date for my job before moving up. It was awful and it took forever to find a nice apartment. I ended up having to move twice.
The new semester started in a few weeks, and my new job started in two weeks, but I had a meeting tomorrow.
My apartment wasn’t like the house we’d shared back in Atlanta with Sam, but it was cozy. It would serve its purpose.
Keeping busy served as a distraction. Last night, when I spoke to Bernice, she told me the cops picked up Bane in New York, but there was no trace of my money. We ended that conversation with me in tears and her telling me she’d give me an update today when she found out more information.
I’d waited all day only to confirm my worst fears. That money was gone, and there was nothing I could do besides sit tight and wait for more info.
Sam, on the other hand, I didn’t know what she was doing, and I didn’t care.
In fact, this was probably it for me and her as friends. We’d been friends since birth, and she was there for me a lot when Mom died and when Grams died and then when Todd died. My big brother, who had been my everything.
Death.
That was my biggest enemy. It took everyone I loved away.
Todd died in a car accident. He and his wife. It was a drunk driver.
They left my niece behind, who at the time had just turned fifteen.
I was the only person in this world she had left, and there was no question as to whether or not I’d take care of her.
I was here at the time. Living my dream as an artist. I didn’t want to pull Lana out of school and bring her here. It wouldn’t have been ideal because I was travelling with my job for half the year.
That was when Sam stepped in. She stepped in and stepped up big time. Her idea to get a place together had been a lifesaver, but I didn’t know it was going to destroy me as well.
I approached the bar, and the burly bartender behind it gave me a lopsided grin.
“What can I get you, sweetheart?” He moved closer to the counter.
“Something strong. Vodka Martini, if you do that.”
He laughed. “We sure do that? Rough day?”
“The worst.” I propped myself on a stool and rested my arms on the bar top.
He gave me a look I kind of recognized amongst good bartenders. It was one that came with a natural pause giving me the chance to continue. If I continued talking, he would probably stay and listen, but since I didn’t, he seemed to know that I didn’t want to talk about it.
He gave me a little smile and moved away to make my drink.
The place wasn’t too busy. Just what you’d expect for this time of day. It was nearly five.
There were a few guys playing pool and some on the other side of the room watching football.
The bartender returned with my drink and widened his eyes when I took it and knocked it back in one swig.
“Shit, maybe I should have used a bigger glass. I just figured you for a woman who appreciated the cocktail glass.”
“Not today.” I cleared my throat against the burning sensation and coughed. “Can I have another one, please? Double shot this time.”
He raised his brows and moved away to make the drink. He returned with an ordinary glass, which held about twice the amount a cocktail glass would hold.
“Maybe try to keep it down to this. If you want something more, I suggest beer or a light white wine.” He nodded placing the drink down.
I knew he was right, and I was probably shooting myself in the foot by drinking so much; and the day before an interview. Or rather a welcome meeting in the place I lived at more than I did my own home.
Today should have been a happy day. I should have been ecstatic to be here, but I was so sad and depressed.
I was here again in L.A for a second chance I never thought possible. Three years later trying to achieve the same dream I’d sought out all my life.
I hated thinking like this because it felt like I was blaming my sacrifice to take care of Lana for robbing me of achieving my dreams. I didn’t, not at all. I was glad I could be there for her, the way Todd had been for me. I was glad I could be an aunt to her and make sure she achieved her dreams to go to UCLA to study medicine.
But truth was truth.
I was proud of her and the hand I’d had in making sure she got to where she should be, but over the last three years, I’d worked myself to death to make it happen. I worked my fingers to the bone to make sure we could pay for college, and I forgot myself and my own dreams.
Three years ago, I was an intern at the renowned Impasso. The travelling art company run by John Le Blanc, owner and founder.
I was in my senior year of high school when I first saw one of his shows. He came to Atlanta for a month-long tour. He and his band of super talented artists. I’d always been into fine art and sculpting, but he took that to the next level. Impasso was everything. The main gallery was stationed here in L.A., where they’d kick start the new season’s show, which would start in September and end the week before Christmas. Then they’d take the show to New York and Atlanta, then over to Europe for five months.
It was an amazing conglomeration of fine art, living art, modern and contemporary, abstraction, and everything rolled into one.
That first show I saw at seventeen years old was enough for me. I’d always wanted to do art and have my own gallery one day, but I wanted to work for John.
I got my chance on my first application to Impasso. At the age of twenty-five, I’d furnished myself with all the credentials I thought would make me outstanding and the best candidate I could be for the job.
John offered me a three-year internship with the company. But it was cut short after my first year by Todd’s accident.
I picked up the drink and gulped it down. My head spun from the impact.
I needed to slow down. Not burn out after my second drink, or vomit.
The drink bubbled in my stomach, and I winced, holding my chest. My intuitive bartender pushed a glass of water over to me, and I drank that quickly.
“Thank you.”
He tipped his head with a curt nod and moved away to take an order.
I closed my eyes and held my head in my hands.
I’d have a few more drinks to get me out of this funk, then go home and sleep it off. My meeting with John was at two tomorrow.
I’d have the whole morning to whip myself into shape.
I hadn’t seen him in a little over three years, and I was grateful for the chance and opportunity he was giving me. John didn’t give second chances or even chances. If you got the job with him, it was because there was no denying that your talent impressed him in an irrefutable way.
When Lana got into UCLA, I contacted John on the off chance that he would give me a chance. I was so worn out and kind of on my last hope, praying for a break.
He gave it to me. That was the one amazing thing that happened over the last few years. Being part of his company the first time was a dream, but getting another chance to seize that dream felt like more of an honor because it told me he thought I was good.
I wanted to be in top form tomorrow with the shit gone from my mind. Bernice couldn’t do anything about getting my money back right now, and I definitely couldn’t.
So, this was me trying.
I opened my eyes and swore I must have drifted into a dream because my gaze landed on Brad Pitt walking into the bar.
Brad Pitt as in Legends of the Fall Brad Pitt, with the shoulder-length sleek blond hair parted on the side and tucked behind his ear and the beard. Jesus, the beard that was neatly trimmed and full-on sexy.
My eyes widened, and I blinked several times taking in the full vision of him.
Muscles pressed against the thin white cotton shirt he wore with the sleeves rolled up his thick forearms. I could see the hint of a Celtic swirl snaking up his right arm, disappearing under the fabric and reappearing at the base of his neck.
He was tall, tall and powerful looking, and just gorgeous.
Deliciously gorgeous.
Delicious? God, I was already losing my mind. And I was still staring.
He clocked on to me, zoomed in with a keen stare, but I looked away quickly, pretty certain that I was in no state to attract any form of attention today.
Not that I thought I’d attract his attention anyway.
Brad Pitt? No, couldn’t have been. Sure, we were in L.A., but Brad Pitt hadn’t looked like that in years. Legends of the Fall was a 1994 film I watched with Mom over a hundred times right from the ages of seven to eleven. Enough to know the film word for word and develop an unhealthy obsession with the actor and watch every single film he starred in. I also knew enough to know that guy, although a pretty darn good dead ringer for Brad, was not him, because the last time Brad Pitt probably sported that look with the long hair was when he did Troy back in 2004.
This was 2016. Many years had passed since, and while I still thought he was the best-looking guy in the world, this guy here in the Fish Tale bar was a real blast from the past.
At least he made me forget my worries for all of two minutes.
“Can I have another one, please, and a bottle of red wine?” I asked my bartender friend as he walked by.
“Sure thing.” He looked concerned now but nodded and went to get my drink.
He came back with the original cocktail glass, which held the martini and a bottle of red wine. I downed the martini straight away and got that buzz in my brain I was searching for. It made my skin sparkle like someone threw fairy dust on me.
I was about to open the bottle of wine when someone came up beside me. Too close. I turned to look at the person and scowl, but as I looked up, all thoughts of scowling vanished from my mind.
Mr. Brad Pitt look-alike beamed down at me with sharp blue, blue eyes that reminded me of the sky in that in-between phase before nightfall. It was a dark blue like that, and against his blond hair his eyes were striking and almost otherworldly.
“My lady, going to drink that by yourself?” he asked in a rich English accent that stole my breath away, and all I could do was stare. I think that maybe I was drooling too, but I wasn’t sure. There was a good chance I was, to my embarrassment, but my brain had turned to soup and wasn’t able to function enough to care.
His lips arched into a smooth, sexy smile. “Want some company?” he added.
