Western Waves (Compass 3)

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a card. “This is the gala event. At least come and see what we do before tossing the idea under the bus.”

I took the card from her and didn’t reply.

She stood from her chair, seemingly pleased. “Do me one favor?” Catherine asked although it sounded more as if she were about to give me an order.

“What’s that?”

“Don’t bring Stella. There’s a certain level of prestige that comes with attending the gala, and Stella does not fit the standard.”

“Noted.”

She left my office with the same smug look she entered it with, feeling as if she had accomplished something. After work, I headed to Stella’s art studio. I knew she was in there working on a project when I heard old-school R&B blasting through the space.

The windows were open, allowing the breeze to move in and out of the space, and I knocked on the front door a few times without any answer.

I peeked through the window and understood why she couldn’t hear the knocking. She was busy dancing around in front of the canvas to Toni Braxton’s music. She wore her white overalls, and they were covered in paint. Her feet were bare, except for the splashes of color from the masterpiece she was creating. The left strap of her overalls hung low against her shoulder as she sang out loud, acting out each lyric in the most dramatic way. Her hips rocked back and forth, and man, did I watch them move. I watched her move the same way she watched the waves at night—utterly enamored.

When she turned and looked over her shoulder, she screamed when she saw me watching her. I stood straight, feeling like a creep, but before I could reply, she sighed and laughed. She hurried over to the music and shut it off. Within a few seconds, she was standing at the door, smiling my way.

“You scared me!” she remarked, brushing her thumb against her nose, not knowing she spread a bit of yellow paint across her face.

“Sorry, I knocked, but the music…”

“I get a bit lost in it.”

“Nothing wrong with that.”

She brushed her thumb against her cheek. More paint. “What’s up?”

For a moment, I lost my thoughts. I was too focused on her features. The way she made me lose my thoughts was wild to me.

Focus, Damian.

“Oh, uh, I have a question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Apparently, there’s a massive charity gala that Catherine hosts each year.”

“Ah, yes. The luxurious winter gala. It’s a staple.” She raised an eyebrow. “Is that your event for her?”

“I think it might be.”

“It’s a pretty big deal. They auction items off and whatnot.”

“I hate her,” I mentioned.

“Why?”

“Because of the stories you’ve told me. Because of how she’s treated you.”

“Oh… you don’t have to hate her because of me, Damian.”

“Yes,” I disagreed. “I do. But regardless, she invited me to the gala, and it’s a good way to get her out of the way with the will.”

Stella smiled. “It’s quite the event.”

“So I hear.” I shifted in my shoes. “She told me not to invite you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. So…do you want to go with me?”

A small frown fell against her lips. I hated that I was the one to put it there. “Is that why you’re asking me? Because she doesn’t want me there?”

“Partly.” I couldn’t lie. A part of it was to get back at Catherine for trying to tell me what to do. “But mostly, it’s because I hate most people. Especially people like Catherine, and I figured there would be many people like her at the event.”

She laughed. “This is very true.”

“I hate those types of crowds, and I don’t do well in those circles. I would appreciate having one person who I actually liked.”

“Then count me in as your plus-one.”

Without thought, I wet my thumb with my tongue and wiped at the paint sitting against her nose.

“Paint,” I muttered, showing her my yellow thumb.

“Oh. Thanks. I’m sure there’s paint on many parts of me right now. Even the parts that are unseen.”

Oh, Stella. Don’t put that idea in my head. Because I’d love to wipe your body clean of paint. Especially the unseen parts.

Not now.

She’s working, Damian.

“I’ll let you get back to work, but I just wanted to stop in to…” See you. Be near you. Stare into those eyes. “Ask you to come. But also, when you come home, make sure to let me join you in the shower to help you wash off the paint.”

She kissed me, and I loved it.

“Is there a dress code for the gala this year?” she asked.

“You pick the dress, and I’ll match myself to you.”

She bit her bottom lip nervously. “It worries me because Catherine is such a beauty queen, and she always had negative thoughts about my clothing and looks.”

“Who cares? You’re not a kid anymore. Screw her opinion. You’re perfect the way you are.”