My Most Precious One (2 page)

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Authors: Evangelene

BOOK: My Most Precious One
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My Day Off

It was Tuesday morning and I was off from work and university had just ended for the summer. Yeah for me! I still had my Muay Thai class that morning, which I loved going to. So I woke up early, like I normally would and went off to the gym.

Once I finished at the gym, I got back home and jumped into the shower of my small downtown condo that had an even smaller rooftop terrace. Thank god, for my cousin who was a real estate agent, who had a friend that needed to sublease.

I loved it down here. I could walk anywhere I wanted and I was close enough to the highway that I could jump into my Mini Cooper S and go where I liked.

I remembered that the Dali exhibit was staring today and since not many people had the day off during the week, I could indulge by taking my time at the museum. I hated crowds and avoided them vehemently. They freaked me out. People touching me and pushing, the loss of control was just too much for me to handle. It’s not to say I wouldn’t go out and deal with it, but if I could avoid it, I would. I went once with my friends to the jazz festival on a Saturday night in the summertime. There were so many people there, that you couldn’t even move. I had started to hyperventilate, almost passing out. Crowds for me, were a definite no no.

Once I finished with my shower and an awesome breakfast. I dressed up in a pair of low rise dark blue jeans that I never wore without a long shirt. No one wants to see your panties and if they do, trust me it’s not pretty. I wasn’t going to be the butt of someone’s joke, pun intended. I chose a long white tank top and dressed it up with a bright green infinite scarf from American Apparel, (I have one in every colour) put on a pair of black Converse and off I went.

I took out my IPod classic. Classic you’re wondering? It’s only because I love to listen to my whole collection of ten thousand songs and having them shuffle. I really like not knowing what was going to come up. It somehow added to my experience of walking downtown. I pressed play and out came Radiohead’s Give up the Ghost, once the guitar riff hit, my feet hit the pavement.

The sun shined onto my face and a gentle spring breeze caressed my body, I let myself take in the moment, this was going to be a fucken awesome day. I started to walk once I heard Thom York’s voice crooning. As I walked up to the main street I felt my Iphone vibrate, I looked down to see a pic of my mother in a scolding posture. I took it when she was yelling at me once, when I was at the house. I pressed reject not wanting to talk to her, don’t get me wrong I love my mom but the woman can make Jesus feel guilty. Today was going to be my day. I decided it and no one was going to mess with it.

I kept walking until I reached the museum. I loved it here especially the archaeological exhibit. I had a major in classics of the ancient world, mainly Greco Roman, but I also studied a little bit of ancient Egyptian. I can’t explain it but growing up Greek and living there in the summer months made you realize how great history was and that the land I stood on was so old and significant. Montréal never made me feel like that, it made me feel cool and fresh, but it never had that feeling of grandeur or of greatness that was hidden down on the ground.

I was a bit of a privileged kid. I traveled to Greece most of my life and seen almost all the great archaeological sites there was to see. So it was a natural decision to pursue my career in archaeology, not to mention watching Indian Jones helped. The movies were awesome and he led an exciting life. Hello? Who wouldn’t want that?

The iPod shuffled and Portishead started to play, Mysterons was the perfect fit for how I was feeling. Before entering the main building I entered the free exhibit. I knew the museum since I worked in it with my professors and entered in the ancient Greco Roman part of the building. I stood in front of the vast doors and let all the ancient vases and artifacts seep into my eyes. I felt little butterflies as I watched the new artifacts that I helped catalog. I walked over to a large amphora and slowly looked over the painted scene, it was one of Herakles. The song ended and Plastyc Buddha took over with Voyeur De Luxe. I bobbed my head losing myself in the music and my life ambitions, when a slight tap thumped my shoulder.

I nearly jumped out of my skin. I ripped my ear phones off and had a hard time catching my breath. I was bent over not seeing who had scared the living shit out of me.

“Sorry.” The man’s voice was low and rough, “I was trying to speak to you but you weren’t paying any attention to me.” I stood up, annoyed that someone would do that.

“Obviously, I wasn’t paying any attention to you. I was listening to my mus….” All the air in my lungs went out and I was left with my mouth open. I could seriously catch flies right now. He smiled again showing me his bright whites, it was my fave Suit. I looked around trying desperately to look for the camera, I was being Punk’d right? He waved his hand in front of me and I nodded incoherently, oh Jesus, he was sexy. He wore dark blue washed jeans with black combat boots, but the expensive ones that never saw combat but rather were designed for chic rich people, and a white v neck t-shirt with a dark grey blazer. Fuck me!

“Hi.” I said meekly.

“Hi.” His rugged voice was commanding as ever. Oh god and he only said hello.

He pointed to the pamphlet he had with him. “You said it was a great exhibit.”

I smiled. “Actually I said that Dali was great.” My voice was foreign to me. I’ve never swooned over a guy before, well that’s not true, I did once when I was twelve. I convinced myself I was madly in love with a local boy and everything he did made me swoon.

He dropped the pamphlet and we both reached to grab it. Our hands touched and I felt my body jolt, what the fuck was that? We were both still bent down but I had yanked my hand away from him. He looked at me like I was odd. Great, now he’s going to think I think he has some kind of disease, or that I’m some kind of prude which I’m not, trust me. I’ve been with men, well more like boys who honestly knew very little if not anything about sex. Once and awhile, I met a guy who knew how to treat a woman, you know ‘lady’s first’ but it wasn’t often. I had never felt like this, I seriously was crushing on him. He was just so incredible. Part of my brain had wished I could find my prince or my guy, mine and mine alone, he would look just like my fave Suit.

“Sorry.” I murmured, Jesus I was gawking again.

We both stood up and he stared at me intently.

“Well I took your advice and decided to come and have a look.” He said all cool like. I nodded again. Hello?! Alexia did you forget how to talk? God, this man is making me into a bubbling idiot.

“Well I hope you enjoy it.” There you go girl, a nice full sentence. I mentally patted myself on the back. He smiled, damn it, I was lost again.

“So why are you here?” He asked. Fair question, I had to answer but how? I could hardly formulate the previous statement. I took a deep breath and calmed myself.

“I helped catalog some of the artifacts here.” I smiled looking over the exhibit. “This is my favorite part of the museum.” Ok I did it, yeah for me! The inner me jumped a little.

He furrowed his brows, “But don’t you work at the bistro in Old Montréal?” I rolled my eyes at him and I swear I could see a flash of annoyance on his face.

“Yes, by day I’m a waitress and by night I’m an archaeological superhero. I come here to catalog artifacts and save Montréal from dangerous criminals!” I took a long breath. Fuck I hated how waitresses were always looked down on and pigeonholed. I had a life outside of the bistro.

“You’re a sarcastic one aren’t you?” He added. His tone not too pleased.

“Sorry.” I murmured. He looked at me like he was thinking something twisted, but I brushed it off.

“I go to Concordia University for ancient studies and I help out my professors, its part of my masters’ program.” He nodded still not talking to me. Hmm, brooding Suit was a lot hotter than ordering breakfast Suit. I only noticed I was holding my breath when I let out a heavy sigh. Okay, is the air condition off or something? Can he stop looking at me like that?

“You study as well as work?” His chiseled face was too beautiful to look at, it nearly hurt my eyes, nearly, but it didn’t. I wanted to keep staring at him but I couldn’t, I shouldn’t, it would turn ugly. Me, plus gawking and drooling was not something that was extremely attractive. The fact that he stood here in front of me and actually spoke to me, made me happy and my stomach flutter. So I’ll take what I could get and enjoy it.

“And you said you traveled too?”

I still held my earphones in my other hand, but I forgot to pause the music. I could hear David Bowie’s China Girl murmuring loudly through the ear buds. I loved that song, I even made it my ringtone. I pressed pause and wrapped my ear buds around my iPod.

“Yeah I’ve been traveling since I was little.” I started to walk towards the amphora that was in front of me, I needed to get away from his manly smell. His cologne alone was getting me wet.

“Really? Where?” I could see from my peripheral vision that he was looking down at me, the man was at least six feet something. I swallowed hard and turned my head. Ok, I wasn’t imagining things he was staring at me.

“Well, Greece was a must, then Egypt, Turkey and Italy.” He took one step closer, his smell now overpowering me. Fuck is it me or is it hot in here?

“Why was Greece a must?” His voice was low almost like he didn’t want anyone to hear us.

“Well I’m Greek, so I had to go there as often as possible and since the other countries were right there, it was easy to just fly there and visit.” He smiled again and stared at me like he was piecing me together for the first time.

“Paris?” He asked.

“When I got older and started to make my own money, I traveled to Paris for a week, and the year before that I went to Thailand and now I’m planning to go to Japan. But that trip is kind of tricky. I want to be there for the cherry blossoms, but they bloom at different times in the year, so you can’t be too exact on the time.”

Why am I saying this to him? He just stood there, with his arms crossed making his biceps protrude through his grey blazer. I could see the nice shape of his shoulders and the simple cuts of his arms. Hello?! Maintenance, there’s a wet spot in the ancient exhibit room.

“You like to travel?” He breathed, I smiled lost in his eyes.

“Correction, I like to live.” Once I said it I regretted it. I started to bite the inside of my lower lip and I could swear I saw him looking at me doing it.

“Could you stop?” He asked his voice was low and serious. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Stop what?” I asked. He uncrossed his arms and pointed to my lips.

“Biting your lower lip.” I licked my lips and stopped biting them. Well I tried anyhow, I heard him suck air in as he closed his eyes.

He let out a hard breath and slowly opened his eyes.

“Tell me about the exhibit here.” He put his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and followed me around the exhibit.

I explained how the Greeks used imagery to convey a story and a political stance. I just kept talking, taken in by all that I loved. Not everyone asked me about what I studied and those who have just ignored what I’d say and just quoted some history channels which were wrong most of the time. So I kind of relished in the idea that a super hot gorgeous made me wet in my panties kind of a guy, took some kind of interest.

I didn’t notice until I reached the end of the exhibit that I had been talking the whole time. I bit the inner part of my lip again, trying to stop the words from coming out.

“Stop that!” He ordered.

I laughed nervously. “Sorry I let myself go crazy in there.” I pointed to the room behind us. “Well at least you know what everything here is about.”

He leaned against the door frame that was leading us out. He crossed his arms, holding onto his large biceps.

“Not everything.” He stood peering down at me. Were we still talking about the exhibit?

He broke the silence “Did you go yet?” His finger peeled itself from his large arm and pointed to the large canvas that had the Dali exhibit dates on it.

“No, I was going to go after I walked around here.” I pointed to the room behind us. I suddenly got really nervous.

“Well let’s go together then.” He said not waiting for my response but rather began to walk ahead of me.

I stood pinned to the ground, don’t over think this. You’re reading this wrong, he probably doesn’t want to go alone and just wants company. He stopped where he was and looked behind to find me where he had left me. He huffed shaking his head and began to walk back.

“Are you coming?” He asked and I nodded nervously. He reached for my hand and grabbed it. The heat from him was immense. He took my hand like it was so natural so real, I could feel the tenderness of his touch, it overwhelmed me. I yanked my hand from him and took two steps ahead of him.

“There’s a shortcut through here to get to the main exhibit floor.” I nudged my head to where the escalators where and began walking towards them.

He stood right in front of me. We where now eye level since he was one step lower on the escalator. His intense gaze was still on me. Oh Jesus, I wasn’t going to survive this Dali exhibit if he kept looking at me like that.

Dali

We entered the main floor where the ticket booths were, I saw a friend of mine working as a teller.

“Hey Ruth!” I waved. Ruth was a girl I met in University in art appreciation class.

“Hey Lexi, here to see Dali?” I started to take out my wallet, from my blue leather Co Lab tote that I had bought with my sister.

“Two please.” His voice bellowed over me. Ruth eyed me carefully, I slightly shrugged.

“Um, listen I can pay my own ticket.” I turned to face him, but he already had the money in his hand. I turned and looked at Ruth, like you better not take that money.

She hesitated, but he threw her his million dollar smile and she was lost. Damn him and his sexy smile! Which from the side view I could see a small dimple, oh my god, even his small imperfections are cute.

She gave him the tickets and wished us a good time. As he walked away she mouthed,
‘holy shit’.
I gave her a small stare, betrayer. I turned to see where he was and immediately found him as I walked right into a wall of sheer muscle and mass with a very manly scent. It made my inner mistress whimper.

He looked down at me and crooked one eyebrow up. I lowered my head

“Sorry.” I murmured under my breath. What the hell was wrong with me, in a span of twenty minutes with my Suit, I’ve constantly said sorry. He held up the tickets and gave me one.

“Thank you.” I said as I took it. “You know, I can pay for my own ticket. I realize that you think I’m some sort of poor meager waitress, but I do work hard for my money.” I did work hard. Waiters are good actors. Well the good ones are. They know how to manipulate and convince a customer they’re right even though they’re not. The good ones make a lot of money doing that and thank the heavens I was one of them.

He lowered his head towards me “I know, I just wanted to be nice, is that ok?” He asked his look fusing me to the spot. I looked up at him and tilted my head. His intense blue gaze warmed my body. If I just leaned forward and went on my toes, I could kiss his soft well pronounced lips. I licked my lips in anticipation.

“Hey Lexi?” Ruth called out from her booth. Betrayer.

Our moment was broken, well my fantasy was.

“Don’t forget that there’s Emmy Andriesse exhibit on the third floor, it’s pretty great.” She waved at me smiling.

“Thanks.” I cried.

As we walked over to the elevators I could feel his hand on the small of my back, it was a light touch but it was there, guiding me. The heat from his touch sent little shockwaves throughout my body making me shiver.

“Cold?” He asked. I shook my head no. We walked into the elevator and I pressed the button for the third floor, where the main exhibit was. I leaned to one side so I could avoid him a bit. I didn’t even know his name, let alone know him enough to hang out for the next hour.

“So…” I started but he spoke over me.

“My name is Lukas, Lukas Blakk, just in case you were about to ask.” I turned my head and met his gaze.

“I’m Le…”

“Alexia, I know.” He interrupted.

Okay so how does he know that? My look must have prompted him.

“At the bistro, on the bill I get, your name is written on it.” He smiled.

“Oh! That’s right.” I murmured, a small sting of disappointment gabbed at me. Stupid self, for being flattered, so quickly.

The ding of the elevator rang and the doors opened, he waited for me to walkthrough first. We walked through the first small corridor that led us to a large open spaced foyer. The ceiling was an enormous domed window that let in the light of the sun, which made the space around us feel majestic.

I smiled looking around enjoying the moment. I saw the security guard that waited at the front entrance of the exhibit.

“Shall we?” He extended his hand and I walked in. I loved visiting the museums for whatever reason it was. In Paris, I nearly lost my mind. Not at the Louvre so much, which I loved especially the archeological part, which not too many people visited, which I may add, but at the Musee d’Orsay. It had so many different famous artists housed in spot, that it made my trip feel so surreal.

“Hey I think I lost you for a second.” He murmured. I smiled snapping right back to where I was.

“Sorry thinking about Paris and the museums.” I shrugged “I can’t help it.”

We began to walk around, “So tell me about Dali.” I laughed to myself, so museums weren’t the only things that I can get lost in, watching a walking living breathing GQ advertisement next to me, was just too much for me. He smiled waiting for me to say something.

“His name is synonymous with surrealism. He was surrealism. Actually, he was the first real celebrity to use crazy attics to sell his art. He understood it was a business and his wife was a shrewd business woman, who was able to use his talents and make money for him. The art world shunned him because they wanted a broken soul artist that was a brute and angry, but Dali wasn’t one of them. He used the thin line between what was real and what was a dream, to shock the world with his art, to make the audience question why.”

We continued to walk through the corridors that had Dali’s paintings hanging. “At first, he painted dark images from his subconscious that drove the critics wild, but no one was buying them, too dark, too disturbing. It was his wife who he adored, who helped him. To him they were one. He then started to make a real name for himself. She worked hard to hone in his technique and went door to door trying selling his paintings. The man had talent. He was born with it. He started painting at the age of three, not many can do that, but like most artists he had a slight problem with his identity and craved serious attention from everyone.”

We look at each painting taking in the disturbing images that Dali had painted.

“Why did he have an identity crisis?” Lukas asked. His eyes fixated on me, which made my belly flop.

“His older brother died.”

Lukas furrowed his brows. “And?”

“They shared the same name. Instead of giving him his own name, they gave him his dead brother’s, hence the identity crisis.” I shrugged.

“That would make sense.” Lukas added.

“They say that that’s what added to his quirky personality, he craved the attention, he wanting to always be remembered.”

The paintings were fantastic. I was also really enjoying his photographs. The live shots were simply amazing. I hadn’t noticed, but along the way I lost Lukas. I looked around, not wanting him to think I abandoned him in my art tunnel vision, when I saw him talking to a tall leggy blond that had more plastic on her than the whole museum put together. Something inside me wanted to run over there and put my arms around him, claiming him, but I knew that was ridiculous. He was free to do what he liked and obviously he liked to do, tall leggy blonds. She was twirling her hair in one hand and then handed him a piece of paper with the other.

I felt a slight pang in my heart. Here I was, a short slightly muscular brunette with olive skin, green eyes and a Greek nose. I didn’t bother to stay and watch, so I decided to walk on. I hit the end of the exhibit and I noticed he didn’t reappear, so I guess it was my cue to leave. I unwrapped my ear buds and reshuffled my iPod. PJ Harvey came on. Angelene was one of my favorites, the perfect sentiment for how I’m feeling right now.

I began walking towards the elevator, when the doors opened I walked in. As I turned and leaned on the railing the doors began to close, that’s when I saw him walking towards me, but it was too late.

I rolled my eyes at my stupidity, waiting to reach the two floors down. Maybe I’ll go see my painting. I called it that because I loved peonies and the painting was so beautiful. So it was an easy assessment that it would be mine, no? The elevator doors opened and Mile End started to play from Pulp. It brought my morale up from my slight burn from before. Remember, I’m only the waitress in their eyes, nothing else.

I walked through the small group in front of me, I hated crowds and headed to the permanently collection. I turned the corner and there she was, my painting. Well, it wasn’t really my painting, but I loved her anyways, it was Henri Fantin-Latour’s Peonies. He can seriously paint flowers as though they were real. I Googled him and saw more of his work. Wow.

The song ended and Sade took Pulp’s place with The Sweetest Taboo. I began silently singing to myself. Don’t judge me! Sade is the shit. The music was making me want to dance but I wasn’t going to bust a move here. I’ll wait until I’m in my condo cooking.

“Holy Jesus mother of God!” I nearly screamed out my lungs. Someone had tapped me on the shoulder and I almost jumped out of my skin. The security guard next to the door brought his fingers to his lips and shushed me, which made me give him a dirty look. I turned ready to give whoever was behind me a murderous stare and a fucken beat down, when I realized it was Lukas.

Still, just because he was my walking wet dream, didn’t give him the right to scare me to death. I yanked my ear buds out of my ear, losing the beginning of the Sex Pistols’ God Save the Queen. I licked and bit down on my lips, not because he made me nervous but rather I needed to calm down before I was going to open my mouth.

“Just to throw this out there, but you could just step in front of me or maybe wave your hand in front of my face. I don’t like be scared out of my mind, at least not twice in one day!”

He stood tall, all six feet something and stared down at me. He was seriously glaring at me. Oh I don’t think so. He leaves me in the middle of a non date, yes granted, it was a non date, but there’s etiquette. So why the fuck is he glaring at me?

“Do you mind explaining to me why you left?” His nose began flaring. Hmm, angry Suit, much sexier than brooding Suit. He was seriously waiting for an answer, like I had abandoned him.

“Look, thank you for the tickets and the company but I saw you with the tall leggy blond, which by the way.” I pointed out through the door, which prompted him to follow my finger. She stood by the column leaning to one side, her tall leggy legs wrapped around each other with the come hither look. Wow she was really going all out for him. “Is still waiting outside for you, so I don’t like to cock block or clit block anyone, so?”

I figured it was sufficient explanation. Wow, I was losing sexy Suit as a customer, but I figured my dignity was worth more than the awesome tip he gave me every morning I worked.

He put his hands onto his waist and let out a heavy sign.

“Sorry, I guess you must have had the wrong impression.” What just happened? Sexy Lukas was apologizing to me, even though it didn’t really sound like one.

“Well apology accepted, you can go off now.” I gave him the shoo shoo fingers, “to Blondie over there and I’ll get back to the Sex Pistols and my friend Henri Fantin-Latour.” I showed him my ear buds and proceeded to place them back into my ears. I noticed that he wasn’t leaving and the tall leggy blond was getting annoyed. His hands were still on his hips, the look of sheer irritation shown clearly on his face.

I relaxed my shoulders. Almost understanding what he wanted. Why was I understanding what he wanted? The Sex Pistols had ended and Sigur Ros’ Untitled 3 started to play. I don’t know why, but the music just fit. It fit like a puzzle piece that had started to come together. The melancholy sound of the piano mirrored how I was feeling, even how he must have been feeling. I yanked out my left ear bud and offered it to him.

I shrugged. “I love music. Here.” I extended my hand. “At least hear some Sigur Ros and I’ll talk about monsieur Henri.” He relaxed his stance and looked at me, his features becoming gentler. He reached for the ear bud and placed it in his ear. God, this man can make any action sexy.

I saw Blondie roll her eyes at me and the look of disgust was not missed. Fucken bitch, if I was next you right now, I would so Muay Thai your ass. But I let it go, not wanting to break the moment I was having. I began to explain about monsieur Henri and how much I loved his work. He smiled.

“So it’s your painting?” He said amused.

“I’m sorry did I stutter, yes its mine!”

I walked by Ruth’s booth and said good bye.

“Did you see Emmy Andriesse’s photos?” She asked, she was a photography major.

“Sorry, wasn’t in the mood, maybe next time.”

She waved back “Kay.”

He held the door open for me and I walked out. It was mid day now I lowered my head a little, a habit I picked up being a waitress.

“So thank you again for the exhibit.” I pointed to the museum doors. I began to walk away, not waiting for him to say anything.

“So I’m not going to see you until Thursday?” That stopped me dead in my tracks.

“I’m sorry.” I stammered. He gave me a small smile.

“You only work four days a week. Thursday to Sunday.” I nodded again agreeing with him.

“At least come with me to have a coffee or something?” He asked and he smiled again but this time he grinned from ear to ear.

If this would turn out to be my own version of American Psycho, I would be okay with it. Please don’t turn out to be my own version of the American Psycho. He nudged his head to one side. I could see his car was there. Holy shit, it’s the Aston Martin Vanquish, up close and personal.

“Holy shit! It’s the Aston Martin Vanquish!” I cried out running towards it.

“You know about cars?” He asked, his face was skeptical.

“Not really. But a good friend of mine is a gear head and she loves them.” It looked beautiful. All black with black mags and with its black leather seats. It screamed money. I honestly don’t know how much, not in the budget of anyone I knew, well not personally anyways.

The Blondie from before had walked out and saw him next to his car, she had no shame, as she bee lined towards him.

“Umm hi remember me from before?” Her little high peaked voice made nails on a chalk board sound like an opera. I rolled my eyes and stepped away from the car. Humiliation number two coming right up.

“I think you forgot to take my number.” She handed him the same piece of paper I saw her with before.

“No sweetheart I didn’t forget.” He gave her no smile and looked over to me.

“Alexia!” The car beeped, signaling the doors were opened.

“Let’s go.” He reached for the passenger door and opened it for me, I looked over, his eyes were only on me. He nudged his head again.

“Get in! I want to hear more about your gear head friend.” I gently stepped in the supple leather seat. They just were like the ones in racing cars. Inside was immaculate, not one thing was out of place, it smelled new and clean. I gathered my things close to my body, not wanting my presence to ruin the car’s image.

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