The day before we leave for Las Vegas I decide to go by Flynn Simmons's art gallery. I want to know why he hasn't reached out to me to let me know he's changed his mind about the show. I dress quickly and grab my wallet from my over sized purse with nothing but loose change and gum in it.
"Where are you going?" Truex asks, dripping wet with sweat. He and Easton love to work out apparently, because all week they've been challenging each other with weight lifting, sit-ups, pushups you name it, they've bet on it.
"Town."
He gives me a serious look, like my explanation isn't good enough. When I don't give in to his silent demand he asks, "Where in town?"
"Flynn's art gallery. I want an explanation about why he hasn't called." I explain.
"I'm coming with you."
"You're all gross." I point out, his skin shinny with sweat.
"Give me five minutes." He orders, walking away.
I roll my eyes, like I'd wait on him. I turn towards the door when I hear Easton calling my name. Curiously, I walk down the hall to the gym.
"What?" I ask, poking my head in.
"I want to see your art room. Truex won't show me."
"Thats nice of him." I reply, honestly.
"I can't see it?" He's asks. Its not that I don't want him to see it. Just nice that Truex was thoughtful enough to wait for me to show Easton.
I shrug, "Just don't touch anything." I warn, walking to the studio door. I open it for him with flourish and wave him inside. His eyes dart around the room taking in the canvases and walking closer to them.
"You did these?" He questions, looking through my most recent work.
"Yes....Man, its a good thing you're so pretty." I reply, mockingly.
He glances back smiling. "Hey, beauty doesn't come with brains. You should know."
"I'm smart!" I argue, offended.
"I know..." He winks.
I glare at him. "So all ugly people are smart? And all pretty people are dumb?"
"No, just you and I." He corrects.
I laugh at his messed up logic. "Right."
"So, why am I babysitting you?" He asks, innocently.
"I didn't know you were." I tell him, confused. The lightbulb goes off in my head. "That sneaky bastard." I say, realizing what Truex did.
"What does he want?" Easton asks, interested.
"Who knows?" I answer, bewildered. "What he doesn't want, is for me to go alone to see the asshole who said he'd showcase my pieces and then never called to confirm it." I tell him, glancing out the door when I hear the gym door open. Truex looks relieved to see that I'm still here. "I think I'm part of the stupid crowd." I say, sadly looking at Easton.
He opens his arms wide, grinning. "Welcome." I laugh at his display.
"Thanks for not showing him my stuff, without asking me." I tell, Truex when he stands beside me.
He nods. "Ready?"
"I want to come. Give me five minutes." Easton demands, squeezing past us to go shower. I groan as he leaves the room.
"Look what you started." I blame Truex.
"I'd like it if you to tell me when you're leaving the house." He states, ignoring my previous statement.
"Why?"
He shrugs, "Because, I want to know."
"You don't tell me whe-" His eyebrow stops me. I guess he does tell me if he's leaving or what he's doing that day. "Okay, fair enough. Why do you want to come anyway?"
"Because you're a horrible driver and I'll worry if I don't take you." He answers, reaching for me. He wraps his arms around me. We stand like that for a minutes before I think to respond.
"I'm a great driver." I state, offended. Looking up at him from his chest.
"Who's told you that?" He smirks, not believing me for a second.
I think back over the years and the many comments about my driving skills, none of them good. "I tell myself that." I respond, proudly.
"I'm going to have to hire someone to drive you around when the season starts back up." He remarks, completely serious.
"I. can. drive." I state, talking into his chest.
"Just because you can, doesn't mean you should."
"Ugh, you sound like Easton." I accuse.
"It was me." Easton, says from behind us.
"Oh, thank god!" I reply, dramatically clinging to Truex. "What a nightmare."
"You weren't sleeping." Truex points out, smirking.
"And its not night." Easton adds.
"Whatever, lets go." I order, not wanting to drop my arms. As soon as I do I miss his heat instantly. What does that mean? Don't think about it. Push it aside, a question never to be answered.
Easton calls shotgun but Truex makes him sit in the back. I can't help but think about missing his touch. Knowing I shouldn't dwell on it, but it keeps showing its ugly head. "Why are you pouting?"
"I'm not." I snap, making Easton laugh.
"Oh, yeah. She is all butterflies and rainbows." He says, still chuckling.
"I don't want to talk about it." I state, when I see Truex glance at me for the third time.
"Tell me." He demands.
"No. Its extremely embarrassing."
"Now, you have to tell us." Easton urges, leaning forward between the seats anxious to hear.
I push his face back with my hand. "Easton, the adults are talking." I scold.
The car ride is quiet, Truex parks his car at the curb outside of the gallery and Truex holds my arm stoping me from getting out. Easton is the first out of the car, after he shuts the door Truex locks them. "Tell me what's wrong." He demands, again.
"This again? Nothing." I try opening the door but he won't let me. I groan in frustration. "I'm just annoyed, okay. Not at you, at myself."
"You said it was embarrassing." He reminds me.
I close my eyes and admit the truth. "Right before we left I didn't want to let you go. When I did I just wanted to crawl right back into your arms. To me that's embarrassing." I confess.
He smiles, clearly happy with himself. I glare at him, but its only makes him smile more. "You're always the first to break off a kiss or a hug, never me. So this kind of embarrassment is great to hear."
"Well, happy I could make you feel better." I mutter, opening the car door.
"Everything, okay?" Easton asks, amused. "Truex, looks happy. I don't think I've ever see him happy before. What did you say or do to him?" He questions, suggestively.
"I told him my embarrassing story and he finds it funny." I grumble.
"He's happy, not laughing." He points out, curiously.
"Can I just have a moment to pull myself together before I go in there. Please." Easton, holds up his hands in truce. I take a couple deep breaths and turn to them. "I'll be right back." I state, walking towards the doors. I go straight to
reception my mind focused.
"Hello, I would like to talk to Flynn Simmons, Please." I tell her my name and she calls her boss. Moments later Flynn is walking towards me. When he's closer I see that his eyes aren't on me, but past me. I mentally roll my eyes. Those boys
do not know how to listen. "Hi, I was wondering if you have a moment to talk. Alone." I say, loud and firm.
"Sure thing. My office is this way." I follow him hoping they stay put.
"Have a seat." He offers, motioning to one of his chairs.
I sit and dive right in. "Why didn't you call? Did you change your mind?"
"I didn't, but I'm a co-owner. I told Scott my partner about your work and showed him some pictures. To be honest he was impressed, until I told him about your boyfriend. I know it sounds odd, but we want a struggling artist to showcase not a famous athletes girlfriend, who although talented, doesn't really need to worry about where her next meal is coming from." He states, plainly.
"You've seen my studio. How could you say I'm not struggling?"
"Speaking of which I went by there a few days ago. You're not there anymore?" He questions.
I shift in my seat thinking of the new studio Truex made for me. "No." I answer, feeling ashamed in a way. "So, I can't be a good artist because my boyfriend is famous?"
"No, that's not really it. Its just that we do that specific showcase to help the truly needy artists. Its more than him being famous, it could make the gallery look like a spectacle if we showcase Treux Marshall's girlfriend. I mean his contract extension with the 49ers was what? 97 million, making him the second highest paid NFL player, and don't get me started on his endorsements." He states, in awe.
"Here's the thing, we're not married only seeing each other. His money is his money." I point out.
He nods, taking out a magazine with an article about the awards show, showing the necklace and bracelet that Truex gave with me along with the dress. Estimating them to be worth 100 thousand dollars. My dress was 5 thousand, is he crazy? I shake my head at the absurdity.
"Obviously, I'm not going to change your mind. Thanks for talking to me." I say, standing up quickly not waiting for his response. I walk in a state of shock to the gallery doors. I see Treux pacing and Easton flirting with the receptionist, he stops mid stride when he sees me. "I don't want to talk about it." I tell him, before he can ask.
On the way back home we stop to eat because Easton won't stop crying about how hungry he is. After three beers I spill the beans. "He changed his mind because I'm not a struggling artist if I'm dating the second highest paid MFL player." I mention, shoving another French fry into my mouth.
"NFL." Truex corrects.
"Does it matter?" I ask, motioning to the waitress for another beer.
"That's stupid. It's not like he has anything to do with your art." Easton comments, stealing some of my fries.
I shrug. "You need to be on the streets to be considered a struggling artist, I guess. Which, I would be if I wouldn't of moved in with you. By the way, who spends that much money on jewelry or a dress? Are you out of your mind?" I ask, seriously.
"How'd-...he brought that up?" Truex asks, more confused then angry.
"Yeah, he pointed it out in an article. Someone wrote about what I wore to the trophy show thing." I explain. Vaguely hearing Truex, mutter under his breath, "ESPY Awards."
"What a dick." Easton remarks, as the waitress slides my forth beer in front of me.
"Exactly, how the hell is it any of his business, or anyone else's?" I question, frustrated.
"Its not." Truex, replies, just as someone from a neighboring table asks for his autograph. He signs the piece of paper and Easton and him share a look. Easton gets up to take care of the check. "We have to go. It only takes one. Then we'll be here all night." Truex, states, pulling out my chair. I follow him to the car and we wait for Easton, who stops to take a couple pictures with fans.
"I'd hate that." I comment, looking at the crowd around Easton.
"Its not bad, but it can get out of control fast." He replies, as we see Easton apologize and tell everyone he has to go. As soon as the door opens and he's safely in, Truex pulls into traffic.