“You don’t like it?”
“God no! I’m more of a rock girl.”
“Sorry, must have slipped and pushed a button.” I quickly switch to my angry guitar rock.
“Sure. Slipped.” She laughs and I join in. “Don’t worry, Jon, you’re secret’s safe with me.”
“THANK YOU. IT’S SO NICE to meet you.”
It’s been a whirlwind of introductions since I arrived at the gala. My face hurts from smiling. Trent picked me up a few hours ago so we could arrive before most of the guests. Tonight’s charity event is being hosted at The Rocks, a swanky hotel tucked into the side of a desert mountainside. It’s smack dab in the center of the city but feels a million miles away. Bright colorful flowers and draperies decorate the ballroom, almost a juvenile color scheme to remind those attending the real purpose for gathering tonight.
I stand off to the side of the wall displaying my prints. It’s surreal to see my work being admired—and sometimes scoffed at—by the high end of society. The entire experience is overwhelming.
Trent has been the most attentive date and looks super handsome in his vintage black tie and tux. This week was insane with the amount of hours we worked to wrap up the 3UG video shoots, but I was able to squeeze in a lunch break shopping trip to Rosanne’s, a favorite boutique of mine. I knew it was the dress before the decadent fabric even touched my skin. A blue hue identical to the shade of my eyes, the full-length sleeveless gown fits snugly over my breasts but flares from the waist. It’s elegant, sexy, and a little naughty with a high peek-a-boo slit on each side.
“You look thirsty. I know I am.” Trent smiles, “I’ll be back.”
“Thanks.” I call out as he makes his way toward the open bar. I can see the ballroom doors and notice my friends as they enter the large archway. Evie and Tate look around before she finally catches my eye, points and then shuffles through the crowd of tables and people.
I feel a sense of pride and also relief at their arrival. It’s good to have public acknowledgement for my art, but it’s my friends I’m most excited to share this experience with. I smile and give a little wave. Evie’s the best kind of friend. We are complete opposites but she is the yin to my yang. She accepts me for all my imperfections and loves me in spite of them. I cannot wait for her to see my photography. It’s one of the few secrets I’ve kept from her. Not because I thought she’d disapprove or wouldn’t like it. More like I knew deep down she would be proud, excited, and push me to share my work—something I didn’t know I was ready for until Jon uncovered them.
My skin breaks into gooseflesh even though the room is packed with people and warm inside. I look beyond Evie to find Jon’s heated glare. He’s standing next to Tate’s sister Carly. I force my lips to continue their smile. He’s on my shit list. I don’t normally hold grudges. Hell, I think I’m a pretty forgiving and understanding person, but his words at the beginning of the week cut deep. I’ve avoided him, too. Wasn’t that difficult with work and having to bus it to and from, but I made sure to leave while he was on his morning run and come home late when I hoped he’d be running surveillance jobs. Even today, I went over to Jason’s to get ready so I wouldn’t have to see his face.
He gives a slight nod and then reaches around Carly’s back to guide her toward my exhibit. Of course, he would bring her. She looks gorgeous in a cream chiffon gown with a plunging neckline and her dark hair pulled up into a twist. Ugh. I hope they are happy together. They certainly look stunning. I’m sure she’s sweet and everything else I’m not.
“My God! Kate, this dress is fabulous! My famous artist friend!” Evie envelops me in a warm embrace and squeals with delight. I drag my gaze from Jon and Carly.
“Well done, Kate.” Tate hugs me next.
“I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Evie squeezes my hand.
They ooh and ahh over my prints and offer compliments. I’m filled with pride.
“There’s an open bar and dinner starts in about thirty minutes.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Evie laughs and grabs Tate’s hand. “Come on, let’s party. You want anything, Kate?”
“I’m good, Trent’s bringing me something.” Where is Trent? He should have been back by now. The room is filling and I can’t see through the crowd to find him. I’m still looking around when Jon approaches. Carly’s not with him and he doesn’t meet my hard glare. He focuses his gaze on the photographs before him.
“I told you. Kate, you’re really talented. I’m glad you picked that one,” he nods to my photo of a man, back covered in tattoos, kneeling on the floor, head bent in agony. The play of shadows and light is menacing. “Your art shows depth and emotion. I feel something when I look at it.” Jon laughs halfheartedly. “But what do I know? I’m not an art connoisseur.”
His words mean more than they should. We stand side by side and he turns his chin to meet my eyes.
“You look beautiful tonight.” My breath hitches in my throat. No. He doesn’t get to say things like that.
“Where’s your date?” I try to sound indifferent but I can hear the disdain seep into my words.
“Bathroom.”
A large hand wraps possessively around my waist and a glass of champagne is placed in my hand. Trent’s lips scrape along my neck. I watch Jon’s reaction. Nothing.
And I hate champagne.
“Babe. These are great. This is great. You’re like a rock star of art.” He gestures with his glass in the direction of my work before turning to face Jon.
“Hey, man.”
“Trent.” A flurry of voices sounds from behind us. I turn to a wide-eyed Evie marching my way with Tate, Sean, Austin, and Derek following. The band wears their usual attire of tight jeans, boots, and fitted t-shirts. They stand out like a clown at a funeral. Evie’s making crazy eyes and I have no clue what she’s struggling to communicate telepathically. Carly appears next to Tate.
“Dude! Pick up your fucking cell phone! We’ve been calling you for hours.” Austin’s bark draws the attention of everyone on this side of the ballroom.
“I left it in the truck. Sorry, didn’t think it’d be a problem if I took the night off.” Trent’s fingers grip my waist a little tighter. “I didn’t want to be distracted by anything other than my hot date tonight.” He grins with a lazy lift of his lips before leaning down to kiss my neck once more. Jason, Steph, Marc, and Nicholas join our circle.
“Hey, guys, what’s going on here?” Marc glances at the murmuring socialites who can’t help but gape. “I didn’t realize you were attending the gala tonight.”
“We aren’t staying. We’re just trying to get hold of our boy and no one was picking up their phones.” Austin turns from Marc to focus back on Trent.
“We got called in to play The Marquee tonight. The opener is puking his guts out. Food poisoning. We’d be opening for Deadfish. Deadfish, dude!”
Austin and Trent are deep in conversation about some dead fish person but my attention is caught up with Carly and Jon. They are standing near each other but not touching. Derek is pouring on the charm, though, and Carly’s the recipient. I can’t hear what he says, but I catch a flash of his sliver stud as he talks. Carly’s blushing and Jon’s wound as tight as a cobra ready to pounce. Poor Derek’s about to get a beating if he keeps with the flirting.
“That cool, babe?” Trent’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.
“Hm… what?”
“Dude. We don’t have time for this shit. You seriously picking a chick over an opportunity like this?” Austin’s upset but I’m still lost. Trent looks from Austin, to me, then back to Austin before his hands run through his hair.
“Sorry, Kate. I gotta bail. I’m really sorry, but we’ve worked too hard. I hope you understand.” He dips his head, brushes his lips over mine and then grazes my ear. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”