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After many days of renovating, revamping, and hours of decorating Nana's very old house, Erin and I finally had the chance to go out and enjoy the Toronto sun. The warm May weather in the city felt different compare to my hometown— the fierce sun was aggressive yet the wind countered the heat.
First stop: Woodbine beach.
It wasn't the typical beach with white sands and sea salt water, rather a lake that stretched through the horizon, canoes spread around the lake. It was said that the sunset here was mesmerizing— no wonder many couples were hanging about. On the other hand, my best friend and I looked awfully single.
After walking around the beach for more than an hour, we decided to eat in a near burger joint.
"Thank goodness we're out of the house. I'd rather puke at the sight of romanticism than to listen to her boring sales talk." Erin muttered while twirling a straw around the glass of freshly squeezed juice. She wore a faded denim shorts and ballerina flats, her blond locks tied into a ponytail and her side bangs put together into a French braid.
I laughed at her remark. She was referring to Denise. No matter how many times I shut the door to her face, she kept coming back.
"Do you think she's there right now?" I asked my friend. "I gotta give it to her though, she's loyal to her boss and all."
She shrugged. "She seemed desperate though."
"Why do you think that?"
"You're dealing with the CEO of one of the most influential company in this country. Are you sure you can win this fight?"
"It's not a fight, Erin."
"Oh, it'll be one if you keep doing this. Did you tell your grandma about it?"
The idea made me shudder. "No, I prefer not to."
Erin's brow arched up. "Wow. That's a first for the good-two-shoes."
I chuckled and threw a single piece of my French fries which she successfully dodged. Then a pang of guilt rushed through me. "You think I'll get her fired? Denise, I mean."
"The CEO is a powerful man with the natural prowess to control, Em. If I were Denise, I'd be scared as hell if I don't get you to sign— and I'll probably start to apply to other companies in case I get fired. CEO's orders must be followed."
Suddenly, an image of a tall gentleman in a sleek Armani suit and leather pair of dress shoes flashed in my mind. I could imagine the mystery CEO parading a Porsche in downtown; his own yacht to goof around beautiful women that he could snatch, and a private jet.
Well, duh. His company manufactured aircraft parts. He must've had his own private plane, just like every other CEO on every romance novel I've ever read. Somehow, this mystery CEO started to morph into one of my possible worst nightmares.
What if he was going to use other measures to get what he wanted? The possibilities were infinite, especially with the money the CEO possessed. The thought made me cringe.
"Hey, are you okay? You're turning pale." Erin snapped me back to reality.
"I guess." I assured her and she continued on finishing her BLT sandwich.
I looked around the beach some more and spotted an old man not too far away facing the beach, a canvas in front of him. Now that I think about it, I hadn't had the chance to buy supplies for my painting. I pulled out a pen and paper and scribbled a reminder.
Painting would allow me to free my mind, even just for a little bit. The smell of acrylic paint, the sound of the bristles sweeping across the empty canvas made me swell in excitement.
I had almost forgot the reason why I came here. I needed inspiration for a new art concept. Painting nude had never crossed my mind before, but the fact that an anonymous bought my art opened a new possibility for me. Maybe if I look a model for a nude painting, I'd be able to cultivate my skills some more.
But, who?
A model who was confident enough and professional enough to pose for me. Only one person crossed my mind. I caught Erin's eyes the moment an idea hit me.
"What? Do I have mayo on my face?" Erin asked with a hint of suspicion in her voice.
I grinned at her and her face turned sour. "Stop grinning like a hyena, Em. You're creeping me out."
Even if she told me to stop, I couldn't help myself. "I need you to do me a favor."
Her suspicion only skyrocketed when I told her the word "favor". I wasn't really the type of person who asked for help— even though I was already in a pinch. Nana had always told me off that my pride would be the death of me.
"I need you to model for me..." I mouthed slowly and Erin's expression softened. "Naked."
The last word had caused my best friend's mouth drop open, but my mind was made up—only Erin could pull it off.
"What!?" Erin yelled at the top of her lungs, making other customers turn their heads in our direction. I looked around and saw curious eyes frown at us. I mimed my apologies for disturbing their supposedly calm lunch.
"Well, I think I should try painting nude." I reasoned out.
Erin sat back as she let out an exasperated sigh. "Emerald, I like your insight about painting nude but I don't think you're asking the right person."
I frowned. "I totally disagree. Come on Erin, considering that we're best friend and we've known each other for over five years, you are the perfect model. We're very close and I feel comfortable if I'll work with you. Plus, you're confident and beautiful. You're the best option,"
"Em, I don't think you even have any other option."
I clapped once as she highlighted my very point. "Precisely! Hence, you as my model," I beamed at her that only made her groan. "Pretty please with cherries on top?" I begged, batting my eyes and smiling wide.
"No. Nada. Non. Fin." She replied sarcastically with finality in her tone and a cold smile, something that Erin Johnson was notorious about. It was the very reason as to why a lot of guys in campus never even dared to spew the magic words to her.
"Pick another person." she then sipped the remaining of her juice.
"And where am I going to find a single soul who's be willing to strip and pose in front of me? We're not from here. We don't even have friends and relatives here."
"Who says anything about a friend as a model?"
I groaned inwardly at her statement. I did not come here to make friends; I was here to get inspirations.
"I don't like the sound of that," My forehead wrinkled, uneased.
"Relax and trust me. I'll get you a model. It'll be easy peas-y lemon squeeze-y," she replied with a quirky smile carved on her mouth.
"I don't want any random model, Erin. No more dragging me to a club again to picture their sweaty bodies." The images of horrific experience flashed in my head— the perspiring men and the stink of alcohol and cigarettes reappeared to my memory once more. I could feel my palms sweat at the thought of experiencing the same awful event. After the horrendous end of Frosh Week after-party, I'd vowed to myself that I'd never step in to another crazy party ever again.
Erin let out a boisterous laugh. "If all else fails, you can always use your wild imagination. Just like how you use it to paint that ten-thousand-dollar painting."
I just shook my head and let the topic go. It was already past noon, the sun becoming more unforgiving. I reminded Erin that after lunch, were going someplace else.
I was just a few minutes away from discovering a part of my father's past—through his murals.
*****
By the time the cab dropped us to the heart of downtown, the air became cooler. Of course, the gigantic skyscrapers had managed to block the warm sun and reflect the blinding light of it instead. We managed to squeeze into the ocean of strangers crossing the busy street when Erin pointed at a commercial building not too far away from where we were standing.
We knew that we were at the right place when the name of the museum was plastered at the front of the building.
Mural Arts Society of Toronto.
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered as I recalled the very name of the museum that mom had frequently mentioned. The smile on my face did not even fade. I just couldn't. Each step we take was memorable; a moment to be taken in for me— something to remember, to appreciate even if my father wasn't here anymore.
Nana was right. This was my moment— to see for myself how incredible dad used to be.
"Umm... Emerald. Museums usually show off their art, right?" Erin interrupted my sudden daydreaming as she peeked through the glass doors. I took swift steps beside her and tiptoed to see behind the huge bars barring me from getting a close view.
From what I could see, a grand staircase with two, gigantic statues of what seemed to statues of lions were entirely covered by white cloth. Erin was right. None of the arts were hanging on the wall, glass display boxes were emptied out, and half of the shiny wooden floor was scraped out. It looked like they were undergoing a renovation.
I jumped, surprised by a man who peeked from the other side of the building. Both Erin and I stepped back a little, letting him open the doors for us.
"Sorry, did I startle you?" the man from behind the doors stepped out, towering us both. He's wearing a light blue Henley shirt paired with a dark grey cargo pants. He repositioned his safety cap, making his curly locks stick out.
"We're fine." Erin answered brightly. "You're very fine." Erin added with an approving nod, making me turn my head to her and nudged her side.
He turned his attention to Erin who was now absentmindedly flirting with her clear blue eyes. I just shook my head when the man answered back in a flirtatious smirk.
"We're going to be on our way since you obviously have work to do," I said, grabbing Erin's arm to signal her that we had to move. "When will the museum re-open after renovation?"
The man shot me an amused look. "Sorry to break it to you sweet, but this place will re-open in about a year or so. Only, it'll be a bank— not a museum."
My heart sank all of a sudden after what he said. A year? That was too long and I couldn't wait any longer.
"What do you mean it's going to be a bank? Isn't this a museum?"
The man shot me a confused look. "Do you read the newspaper? The museum went bankrupt. Not enough funds to support the facility, so the building is sold to a corporation and the art were all sold and archived somewhere else."
I felt like I was drowning in information. So many things were happening that I felt lightheaded. My dad's mural... was this trip all for naught?
"Can we at least take a look at the murals?" Erin pleaded, making me smile at her effort.
But the man only shook his head in disapproval. "You've seen the inside, it's kind of a wreck and you won't see a single art. They have all been either sold, given away to libraries, or destroyed."
"Even just for five minutes." I pleaded. "It's really, really important to me."
"Sorry. I hate to break hearts but only workers can come inside. My client won't be happy if I let a stranger in."
I sighed, the heavy weight on my chest was only pulling me further down to the core.
"Let's go," I muttered to Erin, my energy level was at the very last dewdrop. How would mom react if she knew that dad's mural was about to be painted away forever? I never even get to see it.
We thanked the gentleman and ran to the street where we hailed for a cab right away. We waited for the car to U-turn when the man from the commercial building ran to us, screaming at the top of his lungs and people were turning heads.
"Ladies! Wait!"
Erin and I shot a confused look to each other. By the time he caught up to us, the cab already pulled over by the street, waiting to be occupied.
"Here's my business card with my name and number in it." He said, panting.
"What for?" I asked.
"Are you going in or not?" the taxi driver with a thick accent butted in with annoyance in his tone. Erin apologized to the driver and pleaded for a minute to wait.
"We'll delay the paint job just for you two. In two weeks' time, the floor should be all polished and I'll give you both a private tour."
"Why are you doing this? I thought your client wouldn't like it."
He only shrugged "Like I said, I hate to break hearts." He said before turning "his back and waved goodbye.
The smile on my face didn't fade at all. He must be an angel sent from above. I held the business card in my hand with care and read it. Russell Martinez, owner of Commercial Restorations.
The cab driver honked at us which made me snap back to reality. "If you don't get in, I'll get another passenger."
We got in as quickly as possible, told him our destination and drove away.
"How cool is that? He even gave you a business card! You can totally contact him and ask him to pose nude for you." Erin playfully wiggled her brows and I gagged.
"No way! I don't even know him."
"I say he's a pretty good model for a nude painting," Erin stated in a sing-song tone.
"Pervert," I said as I shook my head with a grin on my face.
******
It was around six in the afternoon when we decided to go home and rest. Erin went crazy with her summer haul while I indulged myself in new art supplies. When we reached the house, a car was parked by our house.
Erin and I looked at each other in confusion. We initially thought that it was Denise's car, but when we tiptoed closer, a man was sitting on our porch step.
The man was wearing a white polo t-shirt with a Ralph Lauren logo on the side paired with a khaki shorts and crème chucks. He seemed to be very deep in his sleep even after tapping his shoulders twice.
"Is he dead?" Erin anxiously asked.
I thought it was a ridiculous assumption yet I still I bent over, my face an inch closer to his and I immediately caught the scent of his cologne. I instantly noticed his dark and luscious lashes, and wondered what color of eyes he was concealing under those lashes. He looked sinful while he slept with his slightly full bottom lips and his nose perfectly symmetrical.
His sound of his breathing was close to a whisper, but the warmth of the air coming out of his nose very much indicated that this man was alive and kicking.
"Nope. Very alive," I confirmed to Erin.
"Oh? Why are blushing?" Erin nudged me, making me cup my cheeks.
Erin shook the man wildly and screamed at his face. The man finally fluttered his eyes open. A pair of coppery eyes locked on mine, and I couldn't help but admire and feel a little envious of his thick and dark eyebrows.
He smiled and I was glad I immediately averted my eyes away from him. All of a sudden, Erin dropped her shopping bags on the ground, her eyes bulged as she shrieked and fanned herself at the same time.
"HOLY SHIT! YOU'RE THE—THAT—OHMYGOD EM! THAT'S HIM!" Erin was practically screaming and spitting in my face that I had to drop my own shopping bags on the ground just so I could make her stop jerking everywhere.
"Would you calm down?"
"EM!" Erin insisted. "THAT'S THE CEO!"
Her widened eyes were so close to mine but I just laughed it off. I didn't know why, but I just did.
The CEO I imagined was the complete opposite of him except that he was undeniably good-looking. He wasn't the typical six-feet-five-inches alpha male in an Armani suit I envisioned (or read in most romance novels). He had a really playful vibe; he was even smiling— a lot. He didn't possess that intimidating aura that I thought he would have. Real life and fiction, once again, proved that there was a thick line in between them.
The man was just watching us in amusement, shaking his head at the same time. "I see that your friend here knows me?"
I scoffed, shot up a brow. "She's just being delusional. What kind of a CEO owns a corolla instead of a Porsche anyway?"
"Denise is right; you are a bit snarky." He said as he scratched the back of his head, revealing the clear contours of his triceps. The mention of Denise name only made Erin's revelation valid.
He really is Denise's boss, that means he's the guy who wants to buy the property. I thought to myself as I studied him some more. He must be about five-feet-eight tall; although he seemed short, he was towering my five-feet-flat height. He appeared awfully playful and relaxed for someone who had a stressful position in the corporate world.
Why am I surprised? Of course, he has the familial wealth and luxury to buy the property for his own tennis court.
I squinted my eyes at him. "Then let me just reiterate this once again: this property is not for sale; it will never be. Now scram you spoiled little shi—"
"ALRIGHT! Hi! My name's Erin and my feisty little friend here is Emerald. It's an honor to meet you Mr. Don Valentine." A warm hand instantly covered my whole mouth, interrupting my last word. Erin was telling me to hush while the man just threw his head back in hilarity.
"Please, just call me Marcus. Anyway, can you give me a minute? I need to get something in the car." The man, Marcus, told us and dashed to his car.
I took the chance to unchain myself out of Erin's grip. "What the hell Erin? What was that all about!?"
She only rolled her eyes. "Em! The odds of a CEO of one of the leading companies in the aircraft manufacturing industry sleeping on your porch is one in a million! Do you know what this means?"
I folded my arms over my chest and shot my friend daggers. "What?"
"It's my chance to sell myself." She said with confidence in her voice, causing me to smack her arm. "I mean to network with him, duh? I'm not actually going to sell myself." Erin added.
The man then came back carrying two white plastic bags. "I've been here for over two hours and I think the food is cold. Do you guys have a microwave?" The man nonchalantly asked as if we were not in a serious situation right now.
Erin immediately picked up her bags on the ground, excitement painted all over her face. "Oh yeah, definitely! I'm sorry about my friend here. She'd rather watch Bob Ross for hours than to pay attention to the economic section of the Financial Post."
"You're an artist?" he queried, surprised.
"You know Bob Ross?"
"Of course. The man's a legend." He replied in a matter-of-factly.
Erin cleared her throat, making me break my eye contact with the CEO. She then clapped her hands once. "Well then, why don't we discuss more about Bob Ross inside, and maybe discuss about how you became one of the most respected young leaders in North America?"
Marcus tailed behind Erin while I was left outside, staring into the distance, my feet rooted to the ground. The very person who wanted to buy the house was actually inside my house, heating his food.
I picked up the art supplies I dropped on the ground and walked inside, completely ignoring the CEO's gaze as I detoured to the studio.
Oh boy. This is going to be a long night.
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A/N: I KNOW! IT'S SO SINFUL OF ME TO DELETE A MAJOR SCENE! But I think it flows better this way. LOL. If you are a re-reader (and did not forget what happens when they found Marcus napping) I guess you know what I'm talking about. Please don't kill me if you really liked the whole I'm-not-the-CEO scene. As always, please vote, comment, and share!
Also, this is all I can post for now. See you soon!
Song: ♪ Burnin' Up by Jonas Brothers ♪