Complementary Colors Read online

  “Stolen? What do you mean it was stolen?”

  “You know, when someone takes something from you that doesn’t belong to them? Sound familiar?”

  She followed me into the kitchen. “I want you to know your little stunt back there almost ruined your career.”

  I took out the vodka and orange juice from the fridge. “Well, since you haven’t pushed me off the balcony, I can assume you worked your magic and all is well.”

  She crossed her arms. “No thanks to you.”

  “You never thank me, Julia.” Even when I deserved it. Which I admit, was rare.

  I sipped my drink. “Is there a reason why you’re in my apartment other than to yell at me?”

  “Ms. Amelia Thorn has invited me to attend a private showing at her chalet up north.”

  The people in Julia’s circles never had homes, they had manors, lodges, and…chalets.

  “And she is?”

  “The President of the American Feminist Society. She organizes a two-week retreat every year that’s invitation only. Some very important people will be there.”

  “Sounds riveting.”

  Julia sneered. “She’s expressed an interest in your painting from the interview.”

  I knew better than to show weakness. “It has a title, you know.”

  “A very inappropriate title.”

  “My Vagina is not inappropriate.”

  “Mrs. Thorn likes it, so that’s all that matters.” Julia twisted her fingers together.

  “I like it too. In fact, I think it’s perfect. My Vagina. It even has a nice ring to it.” I swirled my drink in between sips.

  A tick jumped in Julia’s jaw.

  “If she buys it, maybe she’ll enter it into the Women’s Choice awards.” I gave a dramatic sigh. “Just think, Julia. If she did, My Vagina could be seen by people from all over the world.” I emptied my glass. “And God, what if it won?”

  Greed and revulsion fought a battle in Julia’s expression.

  “Is there a reason you don’t like the title?” I tried not to smile. But not too hard.

  “It’s vulgar.”

  “What’s vulgar?”

  “That word.”

  “You think the word vagina is vulgar?”

  “It’s not a word to be thrown around in mixed company.”

  “Why not? It’s a medical term. If I’d named the painting My Pancreas or My Lungs, you wouldn’t be offended.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “It is.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “You really can’t say it, can you?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me.

  “You can’t say the word vagina.”

  “That’s irrelevant.”

  “Now, Julia.” I crossed my arms and gave her a long look. “Need I remind you that you actually have one of those?”

  She jerked her chin up. “I’ll be leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

  “C’mon, Julia. Say it.”

  “I’ll call you when my plane lands.”

  “Vagina.”

  She glared.

  “Vagina.” I sang it like an injured seagull.

  “Stop it, Paris.”

  “Va-gi-na.”

  “Paris.”

  “Say it with me, Julia. Just once.” I loved the rage burning in her eyes. I loved the jump of her pulse in her neck.

  “I will do no such thing.”

  “Vagina.”

  “Last warning, Paris.” She clenched her hands.

  The smile on my face was slow to form, and it was as satisfying as drawing out a wicked blade.

  I met Julia’s gaze, and said, “Vagina.”

  She charged me. I ducked to cover my face, and she landed the blow to my ribs. A kick to my legs took me to the floor. Another shockwave blew through my lower back and was followed by a searing burn in my knee.

  Two or three more punches to my shoulders and back and she quit. The deep throbbing left behind guaranteed bruises.

  “Get up.”

  I unwound myself. A sharp jab in my side made me gasp.

  Julia hobbled over to the counter. “Just great.” She took off her shoe. The heel flopped from the end. “Do you have any idea how much these cost?”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t kick me. Then they wouldn’t break.” I stood, and my knee screamed.

  “I was going to wear these to the retreat. Now I’ll have to go by Raphael’s and get another pair. And you’d better hope they still have them.” She threw her shoes into the sink. “Now thanks to you, I’ll be up all night packing so I can make my flight.” She walked out of the kitchen. A few seconds later, the elevator dinged.

  I counted to three and then at the top of my lungs yelled, “Vagina.”

  Chapter Six

  As I put on a pair of black jeans and a dark blue cashmere sweater, I told myself I was not going to the park. No matter how many times I said the lie, out loud or in my head, I’d yet to believe it.

  I found a pair of ankle boots in the back of the closet. I had no idea where they came from, but they were fur lined, it was cold outside, and I despised wool socks no matter how warm they were.

  What if Roy didn’t even show up?

  Why did I even care?

  If he was there, good. If he wasn’t, no big loss. Yet the thought of finding an empty bench cinched my throat with a deep, aching sadness.

  He would be there. He had to be.

  Unlike my lie, my heart was willing to believe that proclamation. I could only hope my heart would hold up in the event I was wrong.

  The scent of fresh cookies followed Alice from the kitchen. “Where are you going?”

  “Out.” I took my coat off the hanger and put it on.

  “But I made your favorite. Chocolate chips.” She held up a plate.

  “Thank you.” I kissed her on the cheek. “I appreciate the gesture.”

  “But you’re still leaving.”

  “I have a date.”

  Both of her eyebrows went up. “With who?”

  “A friend.”

  “Does Julia know?”

  “Yes.” Technically.

  “Does she know you’re going out with him tonight?”

  Ah, Alice. She knew me too well. “The cookies look wonderful. I promise to eat one when I get back.”

  “She doesn’t know, does she?”

  “Don’t wait up.”

  Alice followed me across the studio. “You know how she is.”

  “And she’s not here.”

  “Doesn’t mean you can go running around. Something could happen to you.”

  If only. “I’ll be fine.”

  “How well do you know this man?”

  I couldn’t stop the smile. “Very well.”

  Alice’s cheeks turned pink. “Really, Paris…”

  “I’m going.”

  She set the plate down on one of my workbenches. “Wait. You need a scarf.”

  I pulled up the collar on the overcoat. “I’ll be fine.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll take a cold. If Julia comes home to find you sick, she’ll be angry. Worse, you could miss your next showing.” She ran to the closet and came back with a thick black scarf. It wasn’t wool so I let Alice put it on me.

  She buttoned my coat and fiddled with the collar. “Please be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “I worry about you.”

  “I know.”

  Alice brushed away some invisible lint on my overcoat. “You look very nice.”

  “I should, you pick out all my clothes.”

  “Oh.” She held up a hand and ran back to the closet. “I almost forgot.” She came back with a pair of gloves. “You’ll need these.”

  I put them on.

  She clasped her hands. “There, now your fingers won’t get cold.”

  “Thank you.”

  “It’s what I’m here for.” She looked so pleased with herself. Not long ago, I thought she would never smile again.
The day her father died, all she did was stare at me. When she didn’t stare, she cried. I think the only reason she didn’t hate me was because Julia did enough for both of them.

  “Would you like to take some cookies?”

  “They’ll keep till I get home.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t mind. I can put them in a container. It will only take a minute.”

  I caught her arm before she could dash off. “I promise to eat the whole plate when I get home.”

  “You better not.” She gave me an indignant look. “You won’t be able to wear those new slacks I bought you.”

  I laughed. “Okay. I’ll eat half.”

  “Paris.”

  I kissed her on the cheek again. “Remember, don’t wait up.”

  “Wait…”

  I didn’t.

  “What do I tell Julia if she calls?”

  I put out a hand to keep the lift doors from closing. “If I were you, I’d tell her I was asleep, or painting, or anything that doesn’t involve me leaving the apartment.”

  “I can’t lie to her.”

  “Then you’d better not answer the phone.” I released the doors.

  A gust of frigid air rode up my legs as soon as I stepped outside. Alice was right; I did need the scarf and the gloves. Even then, I had to stick my hands in my pockets to keep my joints from aching.

  I huddled in my coat and went in search of a cab.

  The wind changed direction, and I caught a familiar rich scent. Clean skin. Male musk. Cheap soap. Then a line of warmth pressed against my back. “Mind if I join you?” Roy fell in step beside me.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m on my way to the park.”

  “A mile out of the way?”

  “I took the scenic route.”

  “I’ll say.”

  “What about you? Out for a stroll?” Two women with shopping bags over their arms watched Roy with seductive smiles. He nodded a hello as we passed.

  “I’m on my way to meet with someone.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?” There was just enough lilt to Roy’s tone to make me wonder if he might actually be concerned.

  “Just some guy.”

  “Does he have a name?”

  “I’m sure he does.”

  “Do you mind if I ask what it is?”

  “Yes.” I tried to keep my expression blank, but I don’t think I did a very good job because laughter glittered in his eyes.

  “It must be serious.”

  I shrugged. “Not sure, but I think he really likes me.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know, just something about him.”

  Roy leaned closer.

  I leaned away. “Better be careful. If he thinks you’re making any moves on me, he might get jealous.”

  “Does he seem like the type?”

  “To get jealous?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t know, but he’s pretty tough looking.”

  We passed a guy walking four big white poodles. They all wore coats.

  “Is there a reason why you’re meeting him?” Roy said.

  “He wants to get to know me.” I gave a dramatic sigh. “Can you believe that?”

  “You can’t?”

  “No.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know. Sounds so old-fashioned.”

  “Maybe he’s an old-fashioned kind of guy.”

  “God, I hope not.”

  “Why?”

  “Because missionary is boring.”

  His cheeks turned pink. “Well, I’m sure he’s not that old-fashioned.” Two cabs were parked at the corner. “Since we’re headed in the same direction, do you want to ride together?”

  “My mother always told me to never get into a cab with a strange man.”

  He chuckled. “Wise woman.”

  I tugged up my coat collar and pulled the scarf higher to cover my ears.

  “Are you sure you don’t want a cab?”

  “I’m sure.”

  We waded through the light spilling from a line of store windows.

  “Do you think he meant it when he said he wanted to get to know me?”

  Roy stuffed his hands into the pockets of his coat. Frizzled threads lined the hem and padding showed through a hole in the elbow. He didn’t have it zipped up. Was it broken? As cold as it was, it had to be.

  “I’m sure he meant it.” The humor was gone from Roy’s words.

  “How does that work exactly?” I glanced at him.

  “What?”

  “People getting to know each other.”

  “Talking, hanging out, going to dinner.”

  “And what happens if he gets to know me and doesn’t like me?” Did he notice the waver in my voice?

  “I’m sure he’ll like you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because he’d be a fool not to.”

  The light turned red, and we stopped at the crosswalk. Roy stared off in the distance. His smile had turned into something soft and almost innocent.

  “Well, I think he’d be a fool if he did like me.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  I shrugged.

  “You have to have a reason.”

  “I’m not exactly likable. Fuckable, yes. Likable? Not so much.” The light turned green, and we crossed the street.

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  How did you tell someone you were born hated? Your entire life was built on a series of exclusions from your family’s life because you were a forbidden fruit? I didn’t know, so I said, “Because no one ever has.”

  “No one?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t believe that.”

  I met his gaze. “No one.” The wind kicked up between the buildings, and I picked up my pace.

  “I still don’t believe you.”

  “It’s true.”

  “It can’t be.”

  “Why? Because you say so?”

  “Because I know so.”

  I stopped. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you’re psychic?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Tú eres mi mejor amigo. My very best friend.”

  The smile returned to Roy’s face. “Who was it?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I walked, and he followed.

  “You said no one has ever liked you, but I saw it in your eyes. Someone did. I’m willing to bet a lot of someones do.”

  “You’d be wrong.”

  “No, you’re just not giving yourself enough credit.”

  A homeless man waved at us. At the next corner, a guy with a guitar picked out Jingle Bells on five strings. He looked at me and licked his lips. Roy stepped closer to me. .

  “We were children,” I said.

  “The boy in the painting?”

  I watched my feet. One foot in front of the other. Just like life.

  “Who was he?”

  “Just some boy I met one summer. I can’t remember his name.” Just as we stepped off the sidewalk, the light turned red, and a car honked because we were in the way. Roy held up an apologetic hand.

  “Why not?”

  Large oak trees beckoned us closer. Even in the winter, the grass in the park stayed green.

  “I don’t know that either.”

  “Did something happen to him?”

  I rubbed my forehead.

  “No te preocupes. I am your friend forever.”

  The ground was thick with leaves and mud sloshed over the edge of my tennis shoes with every step. Soaked to the bone, I could only shiver.

  There were briars between the trees and sticks out in the open. It wasn’t long before my legs were a mess of bloody scratches.

  I waited for the terrible memory to recede. But the woods remained. The tarp in my hands remained. And so did Julia’s voice. “Hurry up. I don’t have
all day.”

  Roy jerked me back to safety. His mouth moved, but whatever he said couldn’t reach me.

  He cupped my face and pulled up one eyelid, then the other. For some reason, that gave me back my voice.

  “What are you doing?” I tried to push him away, but he held me with an arm around my back, my chest against his. Touching him made me helpless.

  “What are you on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Are you sure?” He wouldn’t let me look away.

  “I promise. I haven’t even had a drink today.” He loosened his hold, but I pressed closer. The worried expression on his face wavered. “You know that guy I’m supposed to meet?”

  “What about him?”

  “He could be watching us right now.” I pushed my groin against his.

  “So?”

  “He might get jealous.”

  “Let him.”

  “You’re not worried he’ll hurt you?”

  Roy squeezed my ass through my coat. “If he does, it will be worth it.”

  ********

  The footpath led us through a tunnel of dogwoods. The blooms were long gone, but the knotted limbs were a sight all their own. Twisting and turning, each one was a natural sculpture made by time and Mother Nature.

  “So what brings you out here every Saturday night at seven o’clock?”

  “If I tell you, it’ll ruin the surprise.”

  I leaned against Roy. It made me look drunk, but so what? A couple sat on a picnic table sharing a private conversation. Their gazes followed us. I rubbed a hand over the swell of Roy’s ass. The male half of the couple looked away while the woman stared and drank her coffee.

  “What are you doing?” Roy eyed me.

  “Nothing.”

  “You wouldn’t be trying to make those two lovebirds over there uncomfortable, would you?”

  “Now why on earth would I do that?” I tried to sound offended. The grin on Roy’s face told me I’d failed miserably.

  The dogwoods peeled back, and we emerged into an open area with a fountain constructed from natural stone. It looked like something that belonged in a niche cradled by mountains not in the center of a park.

  Water rolled from the top and traveled down the grooves and valleys into the pond below. Ivy had been cultivated up the sides and back. Large areas of dirt surrounding the base promised more flowers in the spring.

  “It’s very pretty,” I said.

  “You’ve never seen it?”

  “No.”

  “Have you even been to the park before?”