Piano in the Dark by Pete Eric

Author:Pete, Eric [Pete, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kensington Publishing Corp
Published: 2011-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

23

“She looks kinda busy,” I told Dawn as we wove our way toward the artist Charla Nuttier. Suddenly my suit felt two sizes too small. I wanted to tighten my grip on Dawn’s hand and flee this damned bright, happy gathering. It wasn’t the brilliant artist, but rather the woman Ava that I feared tonight.

“I just want to say hi. Won’t take but a second,” Dawn replied, prodding me along. A couple was taking a camera-phone picture with Ava. A bundle of serious sexy, she stood between the two elderly aficionados, wearing a strapless black ruffled cocktail dress just for her occasion. Her ebony hair was pulled back in a ponytail with a stargazer lily tucked neatly just above her ear. She posed for the picture, but eyes were locked on me.

Unwavering.

Unrelenting.

Wanting.

But I’m a man and I needed to steel myself.

“She keeps looking this way,” Dawn said, aware of it as well.

“Probably recognizes you from the supermarket,” I offered.

We waited patiently for our turn with Ava. I kept my head low, visualizing being somewhere else. When the crowd broke, I let Dawn introduce me, playing the role of the dumb husband.

“Ms. Nuttier,” Dawn began as she reached out for Ava’s exposed shoulder. A shoulder I knew just how to touch. Ava waved at somebody across the gallery, then gave her full, undivided attention to Dawn.

“Please,” she chided. “Like I told you at HEB that day, call me Charla.”

Dawn’s face went flush with excitement over Ava remembering her. Had she been stalking my wife before I ended our relationship? My supply of nervousness and fear began to dissipate; anger and outrage filling my tanks instead. “Well, Charla,” Dawn continued after instruction, “this is my husband Chase. I have to admit, I hadn’t heard of you. He’s the person responsible for introducing me to your work.”

“Not really,” I quickly offered as I shook Ava’s hand, breaking away lest any chemistry or familiarity stand revealed. Tried to ignore the Lola by Marc Jacobs perfume I got a whiff of. “Just saw some stuff of yours at the Breakfast Klub and looked you up on the Internet. My wife is the art person.”

“Oh, really? And what do you do, sir?” Ava said, playing the game as she stared at me quizzically.

“My job? I—”

“No,” she said, waving a dismissive hand with a chuckle as she cut me off. This persona tonight was far more confident than the woman from which I pried myself away the other night. “I meant what is your passion, sir? What really gives your life purpose and fulfillment? What gets your blood going?”

A fertile pause hovered among us. Dawn’s eyes squinted as she monitored this odd exchange. The hairs rose on the back of my neck as a plethora of images bombarded my memory. But I ignored them and the baser instincts that accompanied them. With the remainder of my Riesling, I tipped the glass toward Dawn.

“When you put it that way, I guess I’d say my wife is my passion,” I answered with a smart smile.

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