The Note by Natalie Wrye (urban books to read .TXT) 📗

of strong colors throughout, an array of streaks bleeding into the neutral colors as bright reds, warm yellows and oceanic blues bring out the character of the woman in the work.

It’s almost as if the object of the painting doesn’t know who she wants to be.

Black and white. Mixed. Or mingled. Colorful.

A battle between the two sides of her takes place on the canvas, and instantly, tears start to spring to my eyes when I feel a set of arms close around my waist, the smell of vanilla filling my sniffing nostrils.

I turn to find a small curtain of strawberry blonde strands at my side.

Nancy.

The co-owner at The Alchemist gazes at me, eyes full of wonder, her hand outstretched as she tips my chin.

“Sorry I’m late, Soph.”

I hug her closer, twisting her in my arms. I’m glad she’s here.

I pull back in seconds as a tear escapes the corner of my eye. I swipe it away.

“You’re late?” I laugh, my voice thick with emotion. “Hell, I’m late. I just showed up, like, seven seconds ago.” My gaze falls to the wide-skirted dress on her small pixie frame. “And thank God, too. Because I would have hated to walk in the door the same time as you.” I shake my head. “You look phenomenal.”

“You think?” She grimaces. “I got dressed so fast I couldn’t think twice.”

“And it’s a good thing you didn’t. That dress has its own heat index.” Drew steps in closer, clad in a dark collared shirt that accentuates his strong shoulders. His gaze flickers up at my face but lingers when it meets Nancy’s. His pale blue eyes almost burn.

He glances up at my self-portrait. “Amazing work, Fee. Really.”

I smile. “Thanks, Drew.” I reach out for a hug as he wraps his arms around me squeezing briefly. “And thanks for showing up.”

He opens his mouth to say something but is interrupted by Nancy who cuts in quickly, her voice just as sharp. “Hm. And here I thought ‘showing up’ was a concept that Drew wasn’t very familiar with. Since he never seems to ‘show up’ to work.”

Drew’s ink black brow quirks. “Come again?”

“You heard me, Andrew,” Nancy levels at him, her normally soft voice biting. “Rick told me you called out to work on Saturday. Again.”

“I’m not sure I would take the word of a man whose demeanor makes poison ivy sound pleasurable.” Drew stares down his nose at Nancy, a mixture of disdain and desire gleaming in his icy eyes. “And let’s just say I had more important things to do, Nance.”

“And by ‘things,’ you mean ‘people,’ I’m sure…” Nancy scoffs, reaching for a glass of champagne from a nearby tray passing in a waiter’s arms. She takes a sip.

Drew smiles, a wicked grin crossing his mouth. I know that wicked grin from my favorite coworker.

“Jealous?” He exhales. “I mean, I know sex isn’t a concept you’ve been familiar with in, say, the last millennium, Nance, but there are those of us who still have it.”

“God, do you know that you’re starting to sound like my over-the-hill Casanova-wannabe Uncle Duffy, Andrew? And let me tell you: It’s not exactly a compliment to sound like a man who gives Chlamydia a bad name.” She takes another sip of her champagne, her stare thinning in his direction before she lowers it. “But I’m sure the subject of Chlamydia is something that you and my uncle are both very knowledgeable about.” She places a hand over her heart. “My mistake.”

Drew prickles, and I intervene as he stares at her, a mixture of intrigue and indignation gleaming in his icy blue eyes.

I heave a sigh, grabbing Drew’s arm to escort him away. “Alright, alright, children. Let’s just…agree to go to our separate corners, why don’t we? This is supposed to be a nice time. Not Madison Square Garden on fight night. I think we can leave the verbal fisticuffs for another night, right?”

I pull Drew quickly in the opposition direction of Nancy, walking fast. Fifty feet away, I finally turn on him, tempted to reach for a glass of champagne from a stranger’s hands.

Where were the damn champagne waiters when you need them? Right now, I would gladly stick my head into a whole tray of them.

My eyes narrow up at Drew as he scoffs. “If she weren’t my boss, I’d definitely have a few choice words for her to let her know what I think of her.”

“Seems like you’ve already used a bunch of those choice words just tonight.” I huff. My voice is a hiss. “Why do you have to antagonize Nancy so much?”

“I can’t help it, Fee. Ever since she went from your basic bartender to full-fledged co-owner, she’s had a stick up her ass that needs surgical removal.”

I roll my eyes. “And you think making comments about her social life will help loosen it?”

“Not exactly.” Drew’s mouth twists. “I’m just saying… I can take a guess as to a better place where Nancy might be in use of a stick.”

“Jesus, Drew, could you be more crude right now?”

“Not even if I tried.”

I slap his arm, sending Drew on his way. His low laughter still reaches me from the other side of the room, and I can’t help but to think that Nancy’s not the only one who needs a “stick” in her life.

I shake off the twisted, tense moment between my coworker and boss by slipping off to the restrooms on the other side of the gallery. Once inside, I wet a paper towel, swiping at my suddenly sweaty neck. I dap at the skin beside the red dress’s thin straps and at my full cleavage.

The December evening sun has just set, but my skin is still slightly dry from the day’s winter air, and I glance up and into the mirror to find that my red lips are still swollen, strands of my chocolate and caramel-colored hair escaping to slide down my face.

With dark mascara on, my brown lashes look impossibly long and my mind can’t