The Artist (The Game Changers #2) (4 page)

Chapter Seven

Saturday morning I awoke to my mother’s phone call reminding me about the arrival of my glam squad. Charles was at my building at exactly ten in the morning to take me to my parents’ estate in Hunts Point. When I arrived, my mother quickly swept me away to begin the arduous process of getting ready for the party with her. Threading first, then manicures, pedicures, hair, and makeup were all done under my mother’s watchful eye. I was allowed my liquid lunch of a kale smoothie promptly at one, because God forbid I bloat up in my gown.

After all was said and done, I was starving and barely breathing in my fitted dress while Ward and I rode silently in a limo with my parents on our way to the Governor’s birthday party.

Ward had already told me that I looked beautiful when I greeted him that night, but once we climbed out of the limo and I took his arm, he quietly said to me, “You really are stunning, Katherine.” Ward didn’t seem like the kind of man to flippantly throw compliments around in the first place, but the quiet whisper of his words made them all the more meaningful. This time, I actually believed the words he said.

I smiled at his kindness, and at that moment, the photographer decided to take the photo of us walking into the party. He playfully rolled his eyes at the moment the photographer most likely caught.

Cocktail hour was surprisingly enjoyable. Between expertly introducing Ward to the Seattle elite who greeted us as we walked through the room, he and I had a pleasant conversation about growing up in our world. We had similar upbringings with nannies and private schools. He told me about his brother, who was five years younger and had a house full of children. His parents passed years ago when his father died of cancer and his mother of a broken heart. I apologized for that, and he shrugged it off like only a man could. I told him about my nanny, Miss Mary, and how my mother forced me to take ballet most of my life even though I had “bad feet.”

Dinner at the same table as my parents went better than expected, considering no one at the table could talk while Governor Rollins’ friends and colleagues took his birthday as an opportunity to roast him in good humor. The party really picked up with the after-dinner dancing and drinking. It was then that my mother found the time to try to sell me to Ward as if I were a used car she needed to offload onto some poor unsuspecting soul.

“Now, Edward, doesn’t Kitty look lovely tonight? It takes a lot of work to get there, but she’ll make an excellent wife in public. I’m sure of it.”

Ward politely nodded. “I’m sure she will, Mrs. Peters.”

“You’ll need to hire a good staff wherever you choose to reside, though. Kitty would never be able to manage a household. She can’t even keep track of her cell phone.”

“Perhaps she just doesn’t hear it ringing.”

“If that’s the case, I need to have her hearing checked.”

“Don’t be rude, Mother. You do realize I’m standing right here, don’t you?” I asked, interrupting their awkward conversation.

“Don’t be rude?” she scoffed. “I’m simply trying to let Edward know what he’d be getting into if he chose to pursue this relationship with you. It isn’t fair for him not to be warned.”

I ignored my mother and looked up at Ward. “Would you rather dance or continue to listen to my mother sell me like a cheap suit?”

He pressed his lips together in an effort not to laugh. “I can never pass up a chance to dance with a lovely lady such as yourself.” He then took my hand and guided me away from my mother, aka the worst madam in history.

Once on the dance floor and locked in Ward’s platonic embrace, I said, “I’m sorry for my mother. Please know I won’t judge you if you call a car to get out of here right now. You’ve lasted longer than I expected anyway.”

“Oh, no. I’m sticking this thing out. Besides, you never know what dirty little secrets she’ll spill next.”

I laughed. “Give her another glass of champagne, and you could be entertained for years to come. My impending humiliation would be beyond recoverable. We’re still in the she’s-my-drunk-mother-so-I can-ignore-it phase of the evening. Much more and I may need additional therapy to rediscover my self-esteem.”

“I’m impressed with how easily you laugh off her treatment of you. If you had seemed upset or angry, I would have felt the need to intervene. You just laugh it off, though.”

I smirked. “Years of practice.”

He smiled sadly at me. “That’s kind of sad, Katherine.”

My shrug indicated the end of the conversation that had taken a dangerous turn down a potentially emotional path. Instead of pressing me, Ward danced a little bolder, leading me across the dance floor until the big band ended the song. Ward guided me off the dance floor and grabbed two champagne flutes from a passing waiter.

“To exquisite dance partners and surviving our upbringings.”

“That sounds like a lovely toast,” I said as I gently clinked my glass against his.

My father walked over at that moment and clapped Ward on the shoulder. “Join me in the lounge for a cigar, son.”

Ward looked to me for permission. “Go. I’m going to run to the ladies’ room anyway. I’ll come and find you.”

He nodded and followed my father out of the room. I watched them go before turning on my heel and heading toward the ladies’ room. There was a line at the main restroom, so I headed back through the lobby to the lesser-known one on the other side. I was thankful for having attended so many events at this particular venue, because I knew I would be one of the few who knew about the unlabeled restroom that was past the lounge.

As I walked past the lounge, I saw my father and Ward sitting in two club chairs near the door. Their backs were to me, so of course they didn’t see me pass. Otherwise, I would like to think my father would have stopped his conversation as soon as I appeared. Unfortunately, that was not what happened.

As I got to the edge of the large entrance to the lounge, I heard my father’s deep rumble say, “Look, Vi wants her married off. You marry her, and I’ll teach you the ins and outs of my company. We want to keep it in the family, so Kitty’s husband will inherit the company when I die. I can’t leave it to Kitty. She’ll drive it into the ground. What do women know about running a business?”

“With all due respect, Richard, I know many successful businesswomen,” Ward replied, unimpressed by my father’s misogynistic opinion.

“Sure. They were all taught by men or have men behind them telling them what to do. My point is, son, that you can have Kitty as your wife. In public, she’s perfect. She can work a crowd, dress to the nines, and her mother has guaranteed that her manners are impeccable. You won’t find a better wife. Behind closed doors, have your fun. Just be discreet. No need to bring shame to my business by flaunting your mistresses.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m unclear on what you’re saying,” Ward replied to my father’s hideous suggestion. I wasn’t unclear at all. It was no secret in our house that my father had mistresses. Hell, my mother had affairs too. It was what two people who were stuck in a loveless marriage did. I never thought I would overhear my father making the same suggestion for my marriage, though.

Anger boiled inside of me. First, my mother, and now this. I was done. Done. Done. Done!

I took the three steps around the table to face my father. While the room was crowded, people seemed absorbed in their own conversations. Wishing for more privacy, I leaned across the table, so I wouldn’t have to raise my voice. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I’m leaving. Don’t you dare try to set me up again. From this point on, I choose who I date. I choose what I wear. I will choose my career, and if you and Mom don’t like it, you can shove it up your ass. I’m done with you two acting like I’m incapable of making life decisions. You’re not in control anymore.”

“Kitty, stop embarrassing yourself. Go ahead and leave. Charles called another driver in for you, anyway. We’ll speak in the morning when you’ve calmed down.”

“Don’t bother. I’m done with talking to you.”

Dick puffed his cigar and smiled. “Ward, would you mind excusing us while I speak with my daughter?”

“Yes, sir.” Ward agreed and started to stand.

“No need, Ward. I’m ready to leave.”

“Ward,” my father said simply.

Ward stepped away over to the bar, but I noticed he didn’t leave the room nor did he turn away to give my father the privacy he requested.

“You’re done talking with me? Is that so?” he said, taking another long puff. “How would you feel if you didn’t have that expensive condo on the top floor of your building? How would you like not having a hundred thousand dollar car? Perhaps you’d enjoy having to buy your own designer wardrobe?”

I knew I was pushing him, but I couldn’t hold back. “It would be better than being treated like this.”

Dick finally stubbed out his cigar and leaned forward. “All right then. You have one month to find another place to live.”

“What?”

“You heard me. You have one month. You can either try to make it on your own, or you can come to your senses and behave like the woman your mother and I raised.” He then leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his brandy as if his words were not life altering for me. I couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. I knew it had always been a possibility, but he was actually threatening to kick me out.

His apathy only fueled my anger, so I was honestly grateful when Ward returned abruptly and said, “Come on, Kitty. I’ll take you home.” He then turned and guided me out of the party. I was in shock and wasn’t sure I would have been able to make it to the car if it weren’t for Ward guiding me to get my coat and then out to the valet.

The ride back to my condo was silent. I felt Ward watching me, but my brain was still processing my father’s words. Homeless. That was what I would be. My job didn’t pay much. I wrote freelance for a small magazine for fun. I wouldn’t be able to afford to eat, let alone pay for another condo in Seattle. I could crash with Penelope or Victoria, but it would only be temporary. As the car pulled up to my building, I took a deep breath and reminded myself I had a month to figure everything out, one month to makeover my whole life. One Month.

Ward stepped out of the car after me and told the driver to wait a moment. He then turned to me with a worried expression and asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

I smiled as genuinely as I could. “I’m going to be great.”

He wrapped his arms around me, hugging me in a fraternal, platonic embrace. “You deserve better, Katherine.”

“Thank you, Ward. And thank you for getting me away from my father before things got any worse.”

“I wish I could have done more.”

“I’m glad you didn’t actually. This may be just what I needed.”

With a kiss on my cheek, he said, “Call me if you need anything, Katherine. I mean it. Anything at all.”

“Thank you, Ward. Have a safe flight back to New York.”

Ward climbed in the car and disappeared into the night.

Chapter Eight

I stood in front of my building, looking up at the tall structure, wondering what it was like to live in a place that didn’t have people at your beck and call or didn’t have luxury accommodations. Would I miss it?

Music coming from a bar down the street distracted me from my musings. Every weekend, that place was packed, and music bled from the doors and out into the street. This part of town was known for its nightlife, but I never partook because our social circle had their own events and venues.

As I watched patrons happily enter the brick building that housed the bar, I was determined to try something different. I wanted to experience something my parents would never approve of as part of my effort to cleanse myself of the life they created. I was going to go to that bar, and I was considering the possibility of drinking too much. Kitty Peters doesn’t get drunk, but Kitty Peters can kiss my ass. Katherine Peters can be a totally different kind of girl. Yes, I was planning to get wasted.

I entered my building with gusto. Katherine Peters wasn’t about to wear a formal gown to a bar, so I found a casual-looking outfit and redressed. I brushed out my hair and pulled it back into a sleek ponytail as opposed to the more formal chignon it had been in for the governor’s party. Once I felt I had dressed to fit in at the local pub, I threw some cash and my ID in my black Chanel wristlet. I left my cell phone on my entry table, where I had dropped it. No one needed to know where I was, and the bar was close enough where I wouldn’t need to call a driver. That pesky device was not needed for this adventure.

With my mind made up, I pulled on my coat and made my way to the end of the block. Once I crossed the street, I made my way to the door under the sign that read Hank’s. I appreciated the way the sign made no attempt at hiding exactly what kind of establishment this place was. It was a bar, nothing more, nothing less.

Taking a deep breath, I took another step toward the unknown. A doorman greeted me with a nod and salacious smile. I ignored it and followed the noise that streamed from beyond the large metal door. It took a moment for me to take in the scene around me. The bar was one large room with brick walls, wooden floors, and two rows of columns running the length of the room. Neon signs added splashes of bright color, and the dim pendants gave off just enough light to set the mood. It was crowded, but that was to be expected for eleven o’clock on a Saturday night. People surrounded tables around the room and filled the bar stools that lined the long wooden bar on the far side of the room. Another crowd surrounded a stage where a band was covering Pearl Jam’s Alive. They were decent, and the music was loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I decided I liked this place. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, judging by the loud laughter that intermittently filled the air.

I maneuvered through the crowd, careful to dodge elbows and drinks. There was an open stool toward the end of the bar, so I claimed it in order to start making my way through a bottle of vodka.

A bartender sauntered her way over to me almost as soon as I sat down. She was something to look at; that was for sure. Her hair was colored a light blond, almost white, on the top, and black underneath, and her teased-up ponytail displayed that and her neck tattoos perfectly. Her tight black tank top left nothing to the imagination. I figured putting her double Ds out there for everyone to see probably earned her better tips. If I were being honest, my almost B-cups might have been a little jealous that she had that much to display.

“Whatcha drinking?” she asked when she made her way to me.

“Grey Goose and tonic,” I told her and laid a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “Keep them coming.”

She looked unruffled by my request and went about making my drink with practiced efficiency. Grey Goose and tonic was my mother’s drink of choice. I knew it had fewer calories than most cocktails, which was the only reason she allowed herself to drink her meals.

The bartender set down my drink and moved on to the next thirsty patron. I hadn’t so much as taken a sip of my drink before I felt a hand on the back of my stool where my coat lay. “You here alone, sweetheart?” a man asked. I could smell the whiskey on his breath and cheap cologne on his shirt.

“Not interested,” I said without turning around.

“Aw, come on. Let me buy you a drink.”

“No, thank you. I have one, and I’m more than capable of buying my own drinks.”

He scoffed at my reply. “No need to be a bitch. No wonder you’re here alone.” I felt his hand move from my chair, and the stench of whiskey and too much spritzing disappeared.

My first drink was quickly emptied and replaced with another, and then another by the booby bartender. She was doing exactly as I asked, so I thanked her politely then turned to take in more of the scene. The crowd was a mix of scantily dressed women and grungy men trying to get laid, to business types in their weekend casual taking advantage of the freedom. It was interesting to say the least.

I was busy watching a short, Italian-looking guy try to pick up what could have been a supermodel when something at the back of the bar caught my eye. I turned fully in my stool to take in the back wall of the bar. It was a mural depicting a band and people dancing. The detail and depth reminded me of Maverick and his coffee shop scene. Suddenly, the music was no longer loud enough to drown out my thoughts.

It occurred to me in my alcohol-infused brain that I no longer had to worry about what my father thought. I could take Maverick up on his offer of lunch now. Hell, I could screw Maverick right here on this bar if I was so inclined, and my father would have no say, because he was writing me off anyway. It was becoming easier by the minute to see the pros of telling my dad to shove it. Maybe it was the alcohol talking, but becoming homeless, car-less, and fashion-less didn’t seem so bad if it meant I could have a little fun with Maverick.

“I guess you found another one,” a familiar deep voice shouted. I turned to find Maverick himself standing on the opposite side of the bar from me as if my dirty thoughts had conjured him up.

“Another what?”

He nodded toward the painting on the back wall.

“Ah. I was wondering.”

He smirked his terribly sexy smirk that made me want to do things to him that were not suitable for public. “Were you now?”

“Yes. The details are similar. The way you make it look like an extension of the room, the timelessness of the people. It’s your style.”

He leaned his elbows on the bar and moved closer to me. My body instinctively matched his position and leaned in as he said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you paid close attention to my mural at the coffee shop.”

“Perhaps,” I responded with a smile.

His smirk disappeared and seriousness replaced the flirtation. “What are you doing here, Duchess? This isn’t your scene.”

I didn’t like where this was going, but Boobs saved me with liquid courage. I picked up my new drink and lifted it in a toast. “Drinking to freedom. What are you doing here? You work here or something?” It was really a dumb question, considering he was behind the bar, but I wasn’t exactly on my A-game right then.

“Or something,” he replied. “How much have you had to drink tonight, Duchess?”

I ignored his faux concern and opted for flirting instead. “I thought we already established my name is Katherine, not Duchess.”

“Okay. Katherine, how much have you had to drink?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not enough. That’s for damn sure.”

“I’m not sure I agree with you,” he said as he took my empty glass and dumped the ice into that secret place behind the bar where bartenders dump the sad leftovers of people’s drowned sorrows and liquid courage. Boobs McGhee brought my next drink to me, but Maverick, the thief, took it from her before she could set it down.

“Hey! That’s mine,” I whined. Boobalicious looked just as surprised, but with one shake of Maverick’s head, she shrugged and moved on to other empty glasses. “I paid good money for that drink you just poured out, Maverick.”

“You’ve had enough, Katherine,” he said sternly. He sounded like my father, and I’d had enough of being told what to do. I had just gotten rid of one controlling man from my life; I didn’t need a replacement.

“You know what? Fuck off. I don’t need this shit.” I quickly stood from my stool and swayed from the sudden lack of balance. I was drunker than I thought, but I didn’t want him to know that. I grabbed my Chanel and my coat and headed toward the door. I could hear him calling my name as I wobbled my way out of the bar.

Out on the sidewalk, I started making my way home, but everything seemed to be out of sorts. I couldn’t quite see clearly, but I headed in the direction of my building, knowing I only had to make it to the end of the block and cross the street. In my befuddled state, I thanked my mother for making me practice walking in heels at a young age, because I was still upright even though I had on five-inch heels.

When I made it to my end of the block, I decided it seemed silly to go all the way to the light to cross the street when the entrance to my building was right there. I looked left and right and couldn’t remember if I saw any cars when I stepped out in the road. Things happened quickly from that point.

My heel caught on the curb when I started to step forward. I felt myself falling but couldn’t figure out a way to stop it when a loud car horn sounded. I turned toward the sound and saw bright lights coming toward me. There was nothing I could do. I was falling.

Out of nowhere, a pair of strong arms grabbed me and pulled me upright on the sidewalk just as the red car swerved to miss me. Funny how I remembered the car was red but couldn’t figure out how to prevent myself from falling.

“Jesus Christ, Katherine.” It was then that I registered that a man was holding me up. I looked up and saw Maverick gazing down at me. Really, I saw two Mavericks and both of them had very angry faces—hot angry faces, but angry nonetheless.

I ran my hands up his arms, feeling his taut muscles. “You’re very strong, aren’t you, Maverick?” Yes, alcohol makes Katherine Peters forget to filter her thoughts.

“You’re very drunk, aren’t you, Duchess?”

My hands continued to audaciously wander across his muscular chest. “Do you work out? You have to work out to have a body like this.” Again…no filter.

“How ‘bout I take you home?”

“I’m home. I live right there.”

“Do you now? That’s convenient.”

I looked up at his gorgeous face. “Why’s that?” Even I could hear myself slur. It sounded more like, “Why’sssss that?”

He didn’t seem to mind because he gave me my favorite smirk and said, “Because you live on the same block as my bar.”

“That’s your bar?”

“Yes.”

“You own a bar?”

“Yes.”

“Like, it’s yours?”

“All mine.”

“Good for you,” I said sadly. Then I confessed, “I don’t own anything. I don’t even own my clothes.”

“Whose clothes are you wearing then?”

“My father owns them. He owns everything.” I suddenly felt exhausted and needed to lay down. I rested my head on Maverick’s chest while he continued to hold me right there on the sidewalk.

“I don’t think your father would look very attractive in what you’re wearing.”

I laughed. “You’re a funny guy, Maverick.”

“Didn’t we already establish my name isn’t Maverick?” he repeated my words back to me.

“Adam…” I looked up at him. He was so close our noses were almost touching.

“Yes, Katherine?” he whispered.

I let out a deep breath. “I’m tired.”

He smiled sweetly and said, “Then let’s get you home.”