We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) (45 page)

“Can she make socks?”

“Are your feet cold?”

“I want to do Donny’s purple socks. My sister had the doll and it came with little purple socks.”

“I bet she can, but are you allowed to outsource?”

I pursed my lips. “Probably. I’ll post something in the CAB or the Art Annex. Somewhere around here someone must know how to work a needle not involving heroin.”

“You should work that upbeat image into a project, Q.” Selah moved a pile of screens from my workbench and jumped up.

I scratched my goatee. “I do have the whole section on tragic deaths.”

“Everything is so bright and cheerful, but utterly morbid and depressing.” Selah pointed at the poster of Jean Michel Basquiat on the wall.

“Too soon?” He’d been dead for a couple of years. The latest member of the twenty-seven club, morbid but the coolest. In addition to Jean Michel, my posters included members Jim Morrison, Janis Joplin, and Jimi Hendrix. Apparently, your name also had to begin with the letter “J” to join.

“Maybe.” Selah kicked her legs against the cabinets, her boots leaving behind more scuff marks.

“It’s all kind of like celebrity and life?” I wanted feedback from them. This show would be the biggest thing I’d ever done and I felt nervous.

“You’re an evil genius, Q.” Maggie beamed at me, always my biggest supporter.

“Do you think it’s too late for me to join a punk band?” Selah said out of nowhere. “I think I should be in an all-girl punk band.”

“Do you play any instruments?” Lizzy asked.

“No, but I think I’d be great at screaming angry lyrics.” Selah tapped an uncapped marker against her lips, unintentionally giving herself semi-permanent black lipstick.

“You’d be perfect as an angry front girl. Do it.” I glanced at the clock. “I’m late to meet Warren.”

Giggling and teasing me about a date, the girls gathered their things.

“When are Lizzy and I going to meet this alleged boyfriend of yours?” Selah paused by the door, waiting for my answer.

Boyfriend? “Who said I had a boyfriend?”

“Oh, please. We’re not going into the whole ‘he’s a boy and a friend explanation’ again, are we?” Lizzy crossed her arms and puckered her lips.

I kissed her cheek.

“We haven’t really declared anything.”

Sure Warren and I kissed, and “hung out” a few times. But it had never really gone any further. He spent most weekends up at Pilchuck or at the bakery. I could barely remember to stuff Ramen in my mouth most nights when I finally crawled home from my studio.

“Invite him to your opening. It’s only a few weeks away.” Maggie pulled her Blossom-style hat over her hair. I wasn’t a fan. At least hers didn’t have the big flower on it.

“Splendid idea,” Lizzy said.

“Sounds good to me.” Selah pushed the others ahead of her out the door. “No excuses this time, Dayton!”

I assumed Warren would come to the opening, but it hadn’t occurred to me to invite him as my official date. Felt like a serious step.

“Say Hello, Wave Goodbye” ~ Soft Cell

MY SHOULDER ACHED
from all the slapping and patting people felt I deserved for a show well done. The chicest of Olympia’s chic and the cool people of Evergreen filled the white gallery space. Professors asked where I planned to study for my MFA and if I wanted gallery representation. Red dots spotted the walls and objects like a beautiful rash. Almost everything had sold.

I should’ve been on top of the world. Instead, my head kept turning to the glass doors.

Warren was a no show.

He’d left a message on my answering machine promising he’d come tonight.

I hated how his absence clouded the glory of the spotlight tonight.

I’d worked for four years for this moment.

Everything had led up to this night.

Every stupid prank and stunt like the lettuce boycott sophomore year had taught me something about making a statement.

This was my moment to shine.

Instead, I kept an eye on the entrance, and listened for his voice over the din of chatter.

Talk around me included references to Warhol, Haring, and other Pop Art icons. An older couple dressed all in black cornered me. His mustache reminded me of Burt Reynolds and her hair had been dyed so black it looked blue.

“What are you doing next? Will you do a commission? Have you thought about studying in Los Angeles?” Their questions hit me like a barrage of BBs.

“Grad school. I don’t know. I’ve never done one before. I’m set on New York.” I sounded like a well-rehearsed toddler, providing the right words, but not really listening to the questions because I studied the doors, willing them to open.

When they did open, an unfamiliar group of people walked through them. Not Warren.

Exhaling in frustration, I excused myself from the Edward Gorey couple, and headed to the crowd lining up at the bar.

“Quinn!” The girls greeted me with open arms and mostly empty plastic glasses of the cheap white wine, a must for a legitimate art opening.

“We’re very proud of you.” Maggie kissed both my cheeks. So French.

“I bought the heart thing with the spikes.” Selah pointed to my Be Still, My Beetlejuice Heart.

“I would have gifted you one, Selah.”

“I know, but I want everything to have a red dot. I think I sold one of Sammy’s eyeballs, too.”

“You need wine.” Lizzy handed me her glass. “Drink up, buttercup. You’re a star!”

“Where are Ben and Jo?” I didn’t bother asking about Gil. I’d already spoken to him before he left with some woman who looked like Maggie’s dark haired twin. Not as pretty as our Magpie, but if you can’t be with the one you love, date her doppelganger.

Lizzy pointed over my shoulder. “Ben’s talking to some long haired guy over by the beanbags.”

I recognized Ben’s shoes and legs, but couldn’t see the rest of him or the other guy. Hope took flight in my chest.

“Be right back.”

“You stole my wine,” Lizzy huffed.

“You’re already in line for the bar. Get us both another one.” I lifted the glass above my head as I shuffled through the crowd.

It took me ten minutes to cross the room. People stopped me, touching my arms and shoulders, praising the show. As much of an ego stroke as it was, the rest of me wanted the night to be over. Or at least this part of it. A few rounds and hanging out with the gang at Lucky’s sounded like heaven after hours of schmoozing.

When I finally reached the beanbags I’d requested for lounging, two girls sat in them. Ben was nowhere to be seen.

I sank down into an empty chair and drank my wine as I observed people looking at my creations. The girls next to me chatted about nothing related to the art. There seemed to be some guy named Roger who had apparently dated both of them. At the same time, they’d figured out, during junior year. They gossiped about his enormous talent while I eavesdropped.

The crowd thinned around us. My view no longer consisted of legs and shoes with glimpses of bright colors on the walls and pedestals.

Staring at the 27 Club posters, I stroked the goatee I’d grown in the past few weeks. Gil had one and I liked the musketeer look it gave him. I wasn’t convinced about the look for me. As much as I loved the nickname Aslan, with the goatee I looked more like the Cowardly Lion than ever.

The girls helped each other out of their chairs and wandered away. Clumps of people gathered near the glass doors, putting on coats and making plans for later.

Tilting my glass, I realized it was empty. The bar sat far, far away across the room. It might as well be a galaxy away. I sighed and rested my head back on the faux yellow fur. I visualized someone bringing over a bottle of wine. Didn’t matter who.

Squeaking from rubber soles and the clicking of heels came closer to me.

Selah and Maggie towered above me, a wine bottle held by each of them.

“My angels!”

Maggie shuffled the other beanbags closer to mine and plopped down in one.

“Boys suck.” She held her bottle closer to me.

I took it and instead of refilling my glass, drank directly from the bottle.

“Very rock star of you, Q.” Selah lifted her bottle and did the same thing. “I’d clink with you, but I’m trapped in this godforsaken chair and can’t reach you.”

She resembled a turtle on its back, legs wide open and her feet several inches from the ground.

“Shift yourself forward before you flash everyone.” Maggie pulled on Selah’s boot, dragging her lower to the ground.

“Nothing most of these people haven’t seen before. If they’ve made it through college without seeing a vagina, then I don’t even know what to say.” Selah took another swig of wine.

“I’ve never seen your Bea Arthur, Selah. Can we keep it that way?” I covered my eyes with my hand. The whole truth was I’d seen more than enough accidentally last summer. Long story and I didn’t want to relive it. Ever again.

She choked and spit out wine in a beautiful arc of spray. “My what?”

“Bea Arthur. That’s what I imagine is down there. Maybe wearing a long sweater coat.”

“What?” Lizzy stared at me.

“My mother called her,” I gestured to my crotch, “lady business Maude. I always assumed she really meant the actress who played Maude, and I started calling them Bea Arthur.”

Selah’s head fell back as she cackled and kicked her feet, threatening us with a full view. Again. Such a lady. “That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard. Who names their body parts? It’s not like they have their own personalities or minds.”

“Speak for yourself. Men have named their penises for millennium. And they do often have a mind of their own.”

Lizzy blinked at me in doubt.

“I’m serious. Every guy in here probably has a name for his dick and an embarrassing story about some time or other when he got an erection at exactly the wrong moment. Ask them. Ask every single guy, then tell me the penis is just another body part. I’ve never been embarrassed by my shins or elbow going rogue.”

“You have very nice calves.” Maggie complimented me. “I’d kill for those shapely muscles.”

“Why thank you, Magpie.” The wine began to work its way through my body, giving me a warm, relaxed feeling.

“Speaking of names, if I’m going to start my all-girl punk band, we need a name. Something which screams girl power and badass.”

“Sandra Day O’Connor?” Lizzy suggested.

“Not bad. Not bad. Hit me with more.” Selah drank from her bottle.

“Bikini Razor?” Maggie frowned at her own suggestion. “Sounds sexy, but dangerous.”

“Something with dolls in it.” Lizzy twisted her mouth in thought. “Scary dolls or something.”

“Aren’t all dolls scary?” Selah snorted. “Dolls have been done.”

“I know!” I set down my bottle and clapped my hands.

Three sets of eyes stared at me. “Maude!”

The gallery had emptied out while we talked about ridiculous things and laughed ourselves silly. I realized I’d forgotten about Warren completely. I gave the doors one last glare.

My mind went to all the horrible things that could have happened to keep him away. Car accident. Mugging. Kidnapped by Big Foot. Poking his eye out with a hot blow-pipe. Losing his hand and having to get a hook.

Okay, maybe some of them were revenge for standing me up tonight.