My 3 Rockstar Bosses

I giggle as well.

“So, who’s the artist anyway?”

“Oh, he’s someone ….”

“He?” I interrupt, stupefied. I can’t believe Howie would actually let me enter a private room with another man. My alpha is so possessive and I love it.

“Yes, he. He’s somebody I found off of the Veteran’s Artist Collective website. It’s a good cause that helps vets get work as artists in the city. Besides, this particular vet had a very good portfolio. I was incredibly impressed, and to be honest, he’s a lot better than most of the painters showing in the Chelsea galleries. So I made an executive decision and called him. He was happy to come by. He’s a great emerging talent Lacy. Just be careful, okay? Some of these guys have a lot of trauma. Anything can arouse old feelings and bring back memories of combat.”

Still, I was puzzled. Something didn’t seem kosher.

“So Mr. Bates doesn’t know that the artist is a man?” I asked slowly.

Edwin stops at the door to what must be the studio.

“Well gosh, I guess not. Mr. Bates was so busy that I just didn’t have time to tell him. Besides, many of the great artists are men, so why does it matter? Michelangelo, Rembrandt, and Vermeer were all men, and they did perfectly lovely work. Anyways, go on in. The artist is waiting for you already.”

I pause again.

“You’re not going in with me?”

“No need. I don’t want to disturb the perfect energy between the artist and muse. Please proceed.”

Edwin walks away down the hall, his back retreating slowly. I don’t know what it is, but I have a sinking feeling in my gut. I don’t know what’s behind this door, but part of me wants to scamper back to the elevator and find Howie. Part of me wants to seek the comfort of my lover’s arms.

But that can’t happen. Besides, I’m acting crazy. What’s so bad about getting your portrait done? So I tell myself that this is what Mr. Bates wants. He wants my portrait painted twenty times over. He wants to see me all over his penthouse. Plus, this is for a good cause. The Veteran Artist’s Collective

is the kind of organization Howie and his Princess should support.

Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and enter a giant room, full of drawing tables and Greek columns on the walls. There is a man in the center with his back towards me. He doesn’t move a muscle when the door screeches against the cold marble of the studio floor. My white outfit matches the room perfectly. I walk over to the painter. My heels sound dreadfully loud on the polished floor.

But it turns out that my Spidey sense was right on point because when the artist turns his head, I almost drop dead.

It’s Charlie. My ex-boyfriend. The one who convinced me I had to get all dolled-up and act slutty for men to like me. The one who played video games while I looked for work to support us both.

I should have guessed. In my heart of hearts, I knew as soon as Edwin mentioned the veteran’s collective. Because not only was Charlie a veteran, but the last time I saw him, he’d taken up watercolors. All those times he said we were going to be together, when he watched TV and slugged beer, he’d had a sketchpad on his lap. Near the end of our relationship, he’d bought a cheap watercolor set from the children’s section of the toy store. Now he was a full blown commissioned portrait artist? What were the chances?

To his credit, Charlie’s almost as surprised to see me as I am him.

“L-L-Lacy?” he stammers awkwardly. He drops his graphite pencil, eyes opening wide.

“Oh my god, Charlie. You’re a painter now?”

“Well, yeah. I- Well. After you left for good I had to do something new. I had to funnel all of that pain somewhere.”

I’m wide eyed. Perhaps even a little scared. Where’s Howie? He would hate knowing that I’m in the same room as my ex.

“Lacy, you know Howard Bates? How? We’re from the wrong side of the tracks, so how did someone like you end up here?”

I decide to ignore the implied insult.

“Look Charlie, a lot has changed since we last dated. We don’t know each other anymore. Not really.”

He looks at my outfit, eyes going wide.

“You must be shitting me. You’ve been seeing the Howard Bates? As in dating the man?”

“Charlie!”