“I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe.”
“You have to, sweetie. Those orders aren’t going to wait around. You don’t want to get behind on your work just because some asshole saw a way of making a boring article about art into something salacious.”
“I’ll message you.”
It only takes Naomi five seconds after we hang up before she sends the article. From the moment it opens up on my phone, I’m overwhelmed with a swelling sick feeling. The pictures Cathy posted on Instagram have been picked up by the writer of the article. What he’s written is only loosely about our show and mostly about the impact of art on sexual relationships. “Does creativity make us more liberal with our sexuality?” is the question of the piece. Suddenly, those pictures have gone from reaching a small number of my friends and my mom to reaching the whole city and maybe even further afield. The first real exposure my brand has received will forever be linked to the fact that I’m fucking five brothers. And even more terrible is the mention of Randolph Carlton.
There is no way this isn’t getting back to him. Someone he knows will read it. Maybe they already have. Maybe Randolph is fuming and about to unleash his wrath on his sons.
As I carry on reading, there is a quote at the bottom of the article from Alden. “Sex and art go hand in hand. Even in ancient civilizations, sex was depicted in pottery and sculpture. Experimentation has always been an important part of finding inspiration.” Alden Carlton says of his relationship with Cora Horton, “Sex and Art are like two sides of the same coin. Cora and I both take inspiration from our polyamorous relationship in form and emotion.”
Experimentation? Is that what I am to Alden and his brothers? A body to experiment with? Somebody to use for their own pleasure and artistic inspiration?
I swallow sour-tasting bile and toss the phone onto the passenger seat so that I can quickly flip the car around. This isn’t a conversation suitable to have over the phone. This has to be made in person.
As I pull into the driveway, hoping to find Alden still at home so that I can tear him a new one, I find a familiar car parked outside the house. Whoever owns it was at one of the parties thrown by the boys in our pranking phase. It must be one of their friends.
I jump out and jog up to the front door, my heart beating so fast that my head spins.
It’s as if the scale of my life that felt so balanced at the exhibition has now been heavily weighted on the side of disappointment and disaster.
I want to seek solace in the arms of the men who’ve become so important to me because they’ve always known how to help me when I’m lost, but nothing is the same. The earth has shifted, and I’m caught in the chasm that’s opened beneath my feet. Alden should be the one to give me some reassurance that this isn’t the end of the world, but he’s betrayed me with his words. He’s given me false hope that what we shared was anything more than a convenient fuck. Tears leak from my eyes at the disappointment, and when I finally get the key in the door, it’s not Alden I see. It’s Kyle Christopher.
And at that moment, everything falls apart.
24
CORA
The journey to Maggie’s is a blur. I don’t remember leaving the Carlton house or turning the car around. I don’t remember making the decision to flee to my friend’s home, but I obviously do at some point because I find myself pulling into her driveway with tear-streaked cheeks and no idea what I’m doing.
Maggie’s sitting on the front porch with Dale playing at her feet. There’s a laptop open in front of her and a big jug of iced tea on the table next to it. She’s the picture of contentment, and it makes my throat burn because I’m never going to have what she has. My life has just been one disappointment after another. Every time I let my heart connect with another, I get hurt. First my dad, then my stupid ex, Travis, then the Carltons. After everything I told them, I can’t believe they’d invite Kyle back into the house while my back is turned.
I believed they were better, but they were just like their dad. Out to take whatever they want without a care for who they stab in the back along the way.
Maggie rises from her seat as soon as she sees me. “Cora, what are you doing here? Are you okay?”
“No,” I say, bursting into tears again as I slam shut the door to my car.
“Hey,” she says, jogging toward me and then throwing her arms around me in a tight embrace. “Hey…what’s going on, honey?”