The Genius and the Muse (11 page)

She felt wooden, going through the motions of the interview while her heart ached in disappointment.

“Were you pissed off?”

He grimaced. “To tell you the truth, I was sick of New York at that point. Too much drama. Shitty weather. Too damn expensive.” He took a deep breath and finished his beer in one gulp as Kate stared at him sullenly. “I was ready to come home. Nothing beats SoCal, you know? Sun and surf, baby.” He smiled with a satisfied grin.

“Yep,” Kate said bitterly. “You’ve got it made, Wylie.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Brooklyn, New York

March 2005

T
he tiny Asian woman paced in the middle of the room, swinging her arms wildly as she tried to get through to her friend.

“You have to hire someone! This is getting ridiculous. You spend twice as much time on shoots as you need to because you refuse to hire anyone for more than a day. If you had a regular assistant, they would already know what equipment you liked, what lighting you prefer, and how to set everything up. Then, you could show up, do your work, and leave.” Lydia threw her hands up at Reed’s complete and utter disinterest.

He was sitting at the kitchen table in their apartment in Williamsburg, examining a contact sheet from his latest job. He moved the loupe deliberately across the page, oblivious to his agent’s frustration.

“Argh!” Lydia rolled her eyes and sat down on the plush green couch Sam had picked out six months before when they finally found a decent-sized apartment. “Sam, help me out here. Wouldn’t you like your boyfriend to work less hours?”

The painter, who was working on sketches for a series featuring street performers, refused to look at her friend and agent across the room. She sat at a drafting table, her pencil adding quiet background noise to the open room.

“Lydia, don’t even try to draw me into this one. This is between you and Reed. I’m staying the hell out of it,” she answered and continued sketching, turning a page in her book to capture the look of intense concentration on her lover’s face as he worked.

They had been together for almost five years, but Sam continued to be fascinated by the subtle variations of expression that crossed Reed’s face, particularly when he was working. They were still each others’ preferred model for almost everything, though Sam conceded she had neither the patience nor the stature for the fashion work Reed had become known for.

He had been working much longer hours, but as always, if it didn’t bother Reed, it didn’t bother Sam. They both trusted Lydia implicitly with the management of their careers, and they were as fiercely loyal to her as she was to them. The agent did occasionally try to use their influence over each other to her advantage, as she was trying to do at the moment.

Usually, both Reed and Sam laughed it off. This time, however, the temperamental photographer looked at Lydia with irritation. “Lydia, give it a rest. Don’t you have something to do? We’re both trying to work here.”

Lydia kicked her feet up on the small couch and settled in, tucking her long hair behind her ears and lifting an eyebrow.

“I know you are, but I have a date later. Hanging out with you guys when you’re both working gets me revved up. It’s like vicarious foreplay.”

Reed only shook his head. He did, however glance over at Sam, who met his eyes with a sexy wink. Just Reed’s eyes on her gave Sam a few ideas for how they might fill the time when they could finally kick Lydia out.

Lydia shivered. “See? Just keep eye-fucking each other like that. It’s so damn sexy. Speaking of your swirling sexual chemistry, how about some pictures or canvases of the two of you together? That would be stunning. I could sell the hell out of something like that. Tastefully done, of course. Or not,” she mused. “I could sell either.”

“No,” they said simultaneously from across the room.

Lydia sighed. “I’ll ask again tomorrow…” She trailed off before piping up in a more cheerful voice. “Hey, Vanessa’s going to be in town next month for her show.”

Sam smiled. “We haven’t seen her in… How long has it been? Reed, do you remember?”

He looked up and furrowed his dark eyebrows in concentration. “Has she been here since we moved into this place?”

“I don’t think so. I think we were still crashing with Lydia when she visited last time.”

“Well, shit, it’s been almost six months then,” he said before returning to work.

“Hey, Reed?” Lydia called his name in a slightly sing-song voice.

“Yes, Satan?”

Sam snorted from across the room.

“Will you do Vanessa’s pictures for her show? Pretty please? You have the time right now. I know your schedule.” Lydia grinned slyly.

“Hmm. Imagine that. I
do
have time right now. How did you know?” He rolled his eyes. “Of course I’ll do pictures for Vanessa. She’s great in front of the camera. Does she need shots of her work too, or just publicity portraits?”

“Both. Dee has some pictures for me from the stuff she’s seen, but if you could shoot the new stuff, that would be great. Her portrait’s the priority though, and I’m hoping to do some cross-promotion for you both. I want something that screams ‘mysterious and sexy,’ all right? Nothing weird.”

“I know how to shoot a portrait.”

“Oh, I know you do, I just don’t want—”

“I’ll shoot her the way I want to, Lydia.”

Sam smirked at the undercurrent of annoyance in Reed’s voice.

“I just don’t want to have to explain the irony of publicity photos featuring the painter’s ear or something.”

Sam pursed her lips, waiting for the fight their friend had started, whether she knew it or not.

Reed sat back in his chair. “Are you questioning my ability or talent?”

“No, I just—”

“Training?”

“Reed—”

“I’m sorry, has a client been unsatisfied with my work in any way?”

“Yes, but you usually just tell them to throw the proofs away and hire someone else. Which, of course, they never do.”

“Because I know what I’m doing better than they do, which is why I will shoot Vanessa
exactly
the way I want to, Lydia. And you’ll like it, or you won’t ask me to do another freebie portrait for you—ever. Got it?” His voice was dripping with irritation, and his blue eyes glared at the agent.

Lydia glared back. “Fine. Just remember, I do all this shit for you guys. And none of you have to worry one bit about marketing, or little things like—oh, I don’t know? Selling the stuff you produce? So don’t pull the artistic temperament bullshit with me, Reed.”

Sam frowned as she felt a twinge in her lower abdomen. She stretched her arms up, hoping the sharp pain on her right side was caused by the angle at which she was sitting. Unfortunately, as she stretched, the pain grew worse, and she swayed a little, dizzy even as she sat on her stool.

Reed’s eyes cut to her immediately, forgetting the argument with Lydia. “Sam? Are you okay?”

The painter stood up slowly. “Just a cramp, I think.” She waved her hand dismissively as she walked over toward Lydia on the couch. Her friend eyed her, noticing how pale she was and the slight tremor in her hands.

“Sam, honey, did you forget to eat today?” Lydia asked cautiously. She had to force her to eat sometimes; Sam would forget after days of working on a canvas. Yet despite the lack of sleep and poor diet, Sam was almost never ill.

Reed stood, forgetting his work on the table and striding toward her. Sam saw the frightened look in his eye an instant before she passed out.

Hours later, she lay silently in a hospital bed after emergency surgery, painfully recalling the panicked ride in the ambulance and the confusion in the emergency room. She curled into herself on the narrow bed, taking shelter in the dark room and the feel of Reed’s hand as it cradled her own. He was sleeping in the chair next to her, pulled up close to her bed.

“Are either of you a relative?” the doctor asked.

“I’m her boyfr—”

“I’m her sister,” Lydia broke in, ignoring the doctor’s incredulity over the obvious lack of resemblance. “What’s going on?”

Sam lay next to them, trying to focus on anything but the pain as she felt the drugs they injected slowly start creeping through her system. She clenched her eyes in agony.

The doctor cleared his throat, but his words began to cut out as Sam slipped more deeply under the influence. “—your sister… symptoms of an ectopic pregnancy—”

“Hard to know how far along…”

“—too late to use medication to clear—”

“Sir?” She finally heard clearly. “Sir, are you the father?”

“The father?” Reed repeated in a crushed voice. Sam lay there, anguished from the pain she heard, wishing she could hold him and protect him, but unable to move as the anesthetic cloud covered more and more of her mind.

She didn’t remember anything after that.

Sam looked at him lying hunched over in the dark hospital room with his head by her thigh and his hand holding her own. She reached over to stroke the soft hair he had let grow out over the past year just because she liked it. She squeezed his hand and thought about all the times over the years she had sketched them. He was so beautiful to her. She felt the tears roll down her face at the thought of the lost child they hadn’t even known they’d created. What would he have looked like?

She heard a baby cry down the hall, and she sniffed. Reed’s head shot up, looking around the room in shock, before he saw Sam lying on the bed. His tired eyes tensed, and he reached a hand up to cup her wet cheek.

“Are you hurting? I’ll get a nurse. Don’t cry. It’s going to be okay. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Sammy.”

She sniffed again, wiping her eyes with the edge of the sheet that lay over her. “Why are
you
sorry? I’m the one who didn’t even realize I was pregnant. So stupid… it’s probably my fault. You’re always saying I don’t take care of myself enough,” she muttered as she tried to staunch her tears.

“Don’t. It’s no one’s fault, okay? The doctor said there could be a million reasons this happened.” He exhaled a shaky breath. “Sometimes shit just happens. You’re going to be fine.” He stood and leaned over, pressing a kiss to her forehead and holding her cheek in his hand. “You’re going to be fine. That’s the most important thing. That’s what scared me the most. I was so—” Reed choked. “I thought I was going to lose you for a while.” He leaned over her hospital bed so he could hold her head to his chest as he squeezed her limp hand.

Sam let the tears fall, finally allowing her body to shake with sobs as Reed held her in his safe arms.

“I wish I could lay down with you.” He stroked her cheek. ”It’s so cold in here.”

“It’s okay. I don’t really feel it.”

After her tears had dried some, Sam lay back, reclining on the bed and watching Reed as he sat next to her. He was obviously exhausted, but he traced his rough fingers up and down her arm with the lightest of touches. The feel of his skin on hers seemed to soothe them both. His voice finally broke the silence.

“You know I’d never leave you alone if you were pregnant, right? You know I’d love our baby, too?” he asked hoarsely, his eyes tracking his fingers as they continued to trail up and down her soft arm.

She reached over with her other hand, tangling her fingers in his shaggy hair. “I know, Reed. I’ve never worried about that.”

“Just wanted to make sure.” His left hand reached up, and he wove their fingers together as he lay his cheek down on her thigh and stared into her brown eyes. “I love you so much, Sam. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you,” he said in the dark room.

She stroked his stubbled cheek. “Sleep. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” she whispered as he closed his eyes. “Just look for me in your dreams.”

“I always do,” he murmured as he drifted off to sleep. “Always.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Newport Beach, California

June 2010

K
ate sat on the deck of her parents’ home, watching the sailboats as they left the harbor. Though the day was likely to be warm, a high fog still hung over the coast, keeping the sun at bay. She was thinking of taking her camera down to the harbor to take some pictures, but had second thoughts.

It all seemed so unbearably sterile. The boats were perfectly painted and washed. The docks were scraped free of mussels and barnacles. It was the ideal setting her parents had worked so hard for, but she suddenly found it as empty as the minds of the tanned girls who giggled as they posed on the bows of passing luxury boats.

“Hey, grumpy.” Her father came out to the deck and sat next to her as she stared off into the distance.

“Hi.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the boats, the water and waving to a few neighbors who walked or floated by.

“Why did you drive all the way out today if you’re in a mood, Katie?”

“I’m not in a mood.” She glanced at him as he sat with an amused expression on his face. “Fine. I’m in a mood. Mom’s driving me crazy with this Cody stuff.”

He smiled ruefully. Derrick Mitchell had years of practice running interference between the two stubborn women in his life. While they shared the same delicate beauty, Katie and Shannon Mitchell typically came from opposite ends of almost any issue most days. Her father was usually the one caught in the middle.

Her dad rubbed her shoulder soothingly. “She means well, Katie-girl.”

“Does she not see that Cody and I aren’t going to happen? Seriously? Why does she even want me to see him again? If she caught you cheating on her, you know she’d kill you.”