Illicit Canvas: political romance and stand alone romance (9 page)

When I come home after the visit in Antoine’s workshop, Maja is passed out on the sofa. It is really late, but I’m not surprised seeing her like that, sleeping in our miniature living room. After all, we were supposed to go out together. I take her shoes off and then cover her with the blanket. She is not used to drinking, so tomorrow she probably is going to have a massive hangover. She must have had a great time at the party.

I put my painting under the bed and inhale a few times, still trying to digest everything that happened in the past few hours. I couldn’t quite believe that Ethan and Antoine loved my work so much. I gave the names in the envelope to Ethan. When I settle back in my bed and listen to Maja snoring in the other room I feel apprehensive. I’m closer than ever to finding my father, to starting over. Year after year I imagined how it would be to have him back in my life, and soon I could be speaking to him for real. Questions—there are so many of them in my head. Why did he leave? Was I the reason? What happened between him and Mum? I don’t stay up long because sleep comes, knocking me out.
 

 
In the morning my messed-up alarm clock wakes me up at seven. I take my medication and check on my roommate. She seems fast asleep. She really must have had a lot to drink.

I take a shower and put on some clothes. Today I’m in my painting mood. Ethan hasn’t asked me why I am so afraid to show my paintings to other people. I’m glad that he didn’t start interrogating me as soon as we left Antoine’s workshop, because I couldn’t bear to tell him what I did three years ago. He would run straight away, like other guys in the past.

I leave when Maja is still fast asleep. My roommate will curse the alcohol off when she wakes up, so I pop into the pharmacy and buy her some aspirin. I also pick up a bag of bagels and cream cheese. This hangover cure always works for me. I feel a little guilty that I didn’t go out with her and Colin; the least I could do is be there to look after her.

When I sneak back in, it’s just after eight and she is already awake, moaning on the sofa.
 

“Morning, Maja,” I sing.

“Shhh, too loud,” she mutters. I fill a glass with water and put a couple aspirin on the table.

“Come on, open your eyes and take the pills. I’ll make breakfast—bagels with cream cheese. This is the best hangover cure,” I say happily, thinking about Ethan again.

She peers at me; her blond hair is messed up and she has fallen asleep with her makeup on. Maja grabs the aspirin with the glass of water and swallows quickly while I put bagels in the toaster.

“You’re a good roommate, Arwen,” she adds. “And alcohol is a curse, a poison. I’m never drinking again.”

I laugh, sitting on the floor right in front of her.

“So how was it? The party must have been good if you got wasted … hold on, were you wasted?”

She nods, closing her eyes and lying down on the sofa. I get up and cut bagels into two and add some cream cheese, then make coffee for both of us.

“Colin kept giving me shots and asking questions. I lost count how many I had,” she says when I pass her a bagel.

“Asking questions?”

“He was heartbroken when I said that you couldn’t go. Don’t worry, I covered for you. I made it up that you had to go to some gallery for an exhibition as a part of an assignment.”

I look at Maja for several seconds, feeling really bad that she had to lie for me.

“Oh God.”

“Yes, he wasn’t happy and he was ready to go and look for you, but I said that I had no idea where you were.”

“He was willing to skip a party for me?”

“He’s really into you, but hold on, tell me—how did last night go? Have you guys found anything?”

“Yes, I got some contacts and Ethan is going to help me.”

“Ethan, hmmm … so you will keep seeing him then?”

“We made an agreement. He wants to set up a gallery or a studio, to start his own business, and I’m going to help him, and in return he will help me track down the missing painting.”

“Cosy,” Maja says, stuffing her face.

“It’s not like that. We're just friends. It doesn’t matter how much we want each other. There can’t ever be anything between us.”

“Okay, whatever you say, but the son still wants you. The girls were all over him last night, but he didn’t even care. It’s like you put a spell on him.”

“He will get over me at the same time as I’ll get over Ethan. The three of us are just friends, even if each one of us wants something more.”

 
Maja gives me a look which says that I have to keep saying this to myself and believe it. We talk about the party a bit more and then she offers to clean up.

I lock myself in my room. She leaves an hour later still moaning about her splitting headache. I paint for the next two hours, finishing a piece for one of my classes. Then I head out to a lecture, thinking about Ethan. I promised to help him, which means I would be willing to create a few pieces for his new studio. My mother always told me that an artist shouldn’t be afraid of criticism. I know that I can create beautiful art, but I’m scared to be rejected again, the same way my father rejected me, by running away.

In the afternoon I get a text message from Ethan. He managed to find two properties, so I quickly text him back reminding him that I have to be involved and I would like to tag along. We both agree to meet up tomorrow at the address, but this time I promise myself that it’s all business. No nonsense about emotions and feelings. This time he won’t faze me.

Chapter Twelve

A woman in blue jogging pants gave me her number today. During the whole time I was talking to her I imagined that I had Arwen in front of me. It was the same woman from the gym, the petite blonde with great legs and arse. When she heard that I worked for the European Union, she looked impressed. I took her number and then left, making some excuse about an early meeting.

There is something really wrong with me. I’m forty-three, for Christ's sake; there are other women out there, but out of all of them in this world I want my elf princess.

“Ethan, are you here, buddy?”

 
Jeremy shakes my shoulder.

“Yes, sorry. I got distracted,” I lie, forcing a tight smile. I’m leading this meeting, so I have to focus. This isn’t high school.

“I was asking about points one and five, so what do you think?” Jeremy asks, moving his stylish pen over the white paper, staring at me intensely. I look over and tell him what he wants to hear. Several minutes later we get on with the presentation. We have waited enough. The president’s advisor didn't show; he sent his assistant with a message that something came up. The meeting can’t be concluded until he agrees with my closures. It looks like he just wasted two hours of everyone’s time.

My first viewing is at two o’clock in Anderlecht. The second one is tomorrow. I have Arwen’s envelope in my pocket when I head out after lunch. I feel much more alive now, knowing that I’m going to see her again.

It’s the end of September and the weather is still decent. I move slowly through the traffic, thinking about my plan. I know Anderlecht quite well. I lived there for a short period of time straight after my divorce. The estate agent mentioned that the spacious building is located near a busy club. Someone used to rent it and taught dance classes up there. I have done a bit of research about the area and I know that it’s a bit of a way from the busy street, but I guess that this setup could work.

When I arrive, Arwen is already waiting for me outside. She is wearing another vintage floral dress and the wind ruffles her black hair. My heart jumps and I tense my muscles, reminding myself that we are not suited to each other. For a minute I keep staring at her, admiring what I can’t have.

She spots me too quickly. I glance at a name on the envelope from Antoine. It looks like one of the artists on the list lives around here.

“I think the estate agent is here,” she says, knocking at my window. I nod and get out of the car, hoping that my plan will work. We can kill two birds with one stone if she is prepared to see the dealer later on.

“How did you get here so early?” I ask her.

“The Metro,” she says, smiling. “I’m excited about this, Ethan. What if this is the one? What if this is where your new venture begins?”

Arwen is so enthusiastic about this project, but I’m still nervous about quitting my job and starting somewhere else from scratch. I have a mortgage and dumping all my savings into a new business seems like a huge risk. Am I ready for this transition?

“We will see. Try to be realistic,” I say to her when a man with blond hair and an elegant suit approaches.

“Rivera party, I presume?” he asks, eyeing Arwen with interest. He is much younger than me, in his early thirties.
 

“Yes, we are here to view the commercial property. Is it upstairs?” I ask.

“Yes, that’s correct. Here are some details. Shall we?”

Arwen giggles with excitement and I have an urge to grab her hand, to let that man know that we are together. The building is made from red brick and it has these tall wide Victorian windows. We get upstairs and I automatically want to reject it, because this is not what I’m looking for. The walls and ceiling need plastering, the floors are damaged, and if I want to turn this space into a studio or a gallery I’d need to spend some serious money. I walk around, aware that the agent is trying to sell it to Arwen, giving her all the talk.

The first floor consists of two large rooms. The size is great, but with my schedule at my current job, I don’t think that I could find the time to coordinate all the work.

“So what do you think?” Arwen asks, standing close to me. I smell her vanilla shampoo mixed with her own unique scent. She is so distracting.

“I don’t know. This place needs a lot of work and I would rather spend more money somewhere else.”

“This used to be a dance studio, Ethan. I think it’s perfect.”

“Arwen, do you see yourself here? Can you see your paintings on these walls?” I ask, aware that the agent is listening to us, standing close by.

Her face changes, growing frigid and pale. She still doesn’t believe in herself. Her blue eyes move around the room, taking it all in.

“Maybe ... I don’t know.”

“Normally you just know. As soon as you walk into the space you will know that it’s perfect for you,” I add.

Arwen says that she will wait downstairs and I tell the agent that this is not what we are looking for. We get back outside the building and he locks it up.

“Here is my card. Call me if you change your mind,” Pierre says, handing the card to Arwen. She smiles and then we are finally alone. I normally don’t get wound up by other men, but I’m raging inside, wanting to drag Arwen close to me and kiss her, claim her, let the whole world know that she is mine.

“He seemed nice,” she says.

“Are you going to call him?” I ask, knowing that this is none of my business, but I can’t imagine her going out with that man. She looks at me for a long moment.

“Call him? Why … oh no, Ethan. No, I’m not interested in him that way,” she says, quickly touching my shoulder, possibly to reassure me that she still desires me, and only me.

“I have an idea, but first I need to know how much time you have left for today.”

“Two hours, why?”

“One of the artists from Antoine’s list lives in this area; actually not too far from here.”

She wraps her arms around herself, looking surprised and a bit apprehensive.

“We can drive to the campus and get the painting.”

“All right, but what if he won’t help us? What if he doesn’t know anything?”

“What are you afraid of, Arwen?”
 

The street is busy and there are a lot of cars passing by. The wind blows, ruffling her hair. I lift her chin up so she can’t avoid looking at me. She wants to find her father and I’m afraid that he will hurt her again. I don’t know his reason for leaving his family behind, but I think she is better off not knowing. The man is a coward.

“I’m scared that I will never know the real truth, that he doesn’t want to be found.”

“We don’t have to go today. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have suggested it.”

“No,” she shouts with wild eyes. “I have been putting this off for too long. Now I finally have a lead. Let’s do this.”
 

“Are you sure? It’s only a conversation, Arwen. We can do this another day.”

“No, Ethan. The quicker we go through the list, the quicker I’ll find him and just close that part of my life. Let’s go.”

She looks determined now, so I guess that I can’t try to change her mind. We get into my car and I drive back into the traffic.
  

“You need your painting.”

“Yes, I think it’s better if we go and get it first,” she says and I automatically feel guilty that I suggested this. Maybe the timing isn’t right, maybe I’m forcing it, but she has made up her mind. The traffic is terrible today, but she is quick while I wait for her downstairs. Her painting is freshly wrapped up when she puts it into the boot.

I put my satnav on my phone and that directs us to the address that Antoine provided. Everything looks ordinary apart from the one small cottage in the end of the street. There is a sign outside, which tells us briefly about the pottery classes. Arwen grips her painting tighter and I nod to her with some sort of encouragement.

She knocks first and for a while we can’t hear anyone. It’s half past three in the afternoon and I wonder if this is the right time for a visit. Either way, Alain is also a dealer or he is doing this as a hobby.

Then we both hear footsteps and the door opens. There is a man in front of us, probably in his fifties, with black smoky hair and deep wrinkles around his eyes.

“Can I help you?” he asks, staring at me and then at Arwen.

“A friend gave us your details. We are searching for something, a painting, and I was wondering if we can ask you a few questions?” I am being as diplomatic as I can.

“You aren’t here for pottery lessons then?” he asks with the same wary expression.

“No, not right now. Can we come in?”

I assume that he is the person that we are looking for: Alain Valesco.

“I suppose so; I don’t have any students today, but don’t expect a cup of coffee. I don’t drink coffee,” he mutters quietly.

Arwen gives me a look that says that maybe this is a mistake, carrying her painting through the narrow hallway. We pass the large living room with a fireplace and enter what looks like a pottery workshop. I smell earthy clay, acrid oil paint, smoky linseed oil and some other chemicals in the air. It’s not unpleasant. For a moment we both admire the tools and ceramics set against the wall.

There is something wrong with me, because I no longer care about the reasons that we are here. All of a sudden I see myself on the street outside the house walking with Arwen and holding her hand. She looks so happy, and I’m relaxed.

The vision blurs and then I see myself sitting on one of the small chairs. My hands are smeared with clay and it looks like I’m trying to create something from a thick mass, but the shape isn’t coming out the way I want it. Alain isn’t in the room. I frown, concentrating on the shape that seems uneven, when Arwen approaches me.

“I think you’re trying too hard. Let me show you how to do this.”

She places her palms on mine and continues to guide me with her movements, urging me to keep the wheel spinning. Her eyes shimmer with excitement and heat. I’m turned on, hard for her.

“Sit in front of me, Arwen,” I whisper, inhaling her soft perfume. She takes her palms away and I stop the machine, and she seats herself right in front of me on the chair.

“How am I going to teach you sitting like this?” she asks, smiling.

“I don’t care about the ceramic, Arwen. I want to be inside you now,” I say quietly. She giggles and I start the machine, pressing myself over to her. Her breathing speeds up as our hands move through the silky clay. My pulse is irregular and my lips dance all over her perfect neck.

“Oh, Ethan, I want you so much,” she croaks hoarsely as I keep rubbing myself against her. She arches her head back and our lips meet. The machine continues to spin. Our hands are in the clay, so we use our lips to pleasure each other. Her smell, her hair and her skin are driving me insane. Our kisses are gentle at first; we only taste, explore each other, but then I bite on her lower lip and intensify the sensations. Her tongue starts dancing in my mouth and I growl, wanting to take off all her clothes and just make love to her on the floor.

My blood is boiling, and she is teasing me over and over with her tongue.

“Ethan, are you all right? Ethan?”

Her voice is different now and I blink, realising that I’m daydreaming. Alain and Arwen are both staring at me.

“I’m sorry. What we were talking about?” I ask lamely, coughing. I’m hard. This has never happened to me before. Somehow this workshop triggered my darker impulses, that part of me that is selfish and needy.