Dirty Shots (12 page)

What was the point in creating art if no one was allowed to admire its beauty?

“What else am I supposed to do, Anya? Please, tell me. I don’t want to hire anyone else, but you can’t expect me to give up my work for you.”

She stared at him, her lips pressed tight together, the tears in her eyes trembling. “Fine,” she finally managed. “Hire someone else. Fuck her, too, if that’s what you want. See if I care.”

With that, she climbed from his bed, clutching the sheet to her chest, and ran from the room. She grabbed her discarded clothes as she went, pulling the items on. The buttons on her shirt had popped off when he’d torn the shirt from her body, so she had to clutch it together to cover her breasts. Without another word, she headed to his front door, not even looking at him, her face white with anger.

He opened his mouth to call her back and then closed it again. What could he say? He lifted a hand, gripping it in his hair. “Fuck,” he hissed. Then louder, “Fuck, fuck,
fuck
!”

He didn’t want to lose her, but he was stuck.

Did he have to choose between the work he loved and the woman he was quickly falling for?

––––––––

A
nya ran from Eric’s apartment, clutching her clothes around her, tears streaming down her face.

How stupid she’d been. She didn’t know how she’d thought she’d get away with hiding who she really was from Eric. She’d just wanted to be with him so badly, she’d lied to herself as well, about the chances of him finding out the truth. She might have been able to hide the secret for longer had he not thrown the news of the exhibition at her, but the minute he’d told her about it, and she’d realized it was the same weekend her parents were in town, she’d had no choice but to come clean.

She gave a choked sigh and shook her head. Of course her parents would have found out eventually anyway. Eric Rutherford was famous in the art world. This change of direction would be talked about in every circle, and her parents would be right at the helm of several of them.

What had she thought would happen? That he’d fall in love with her so completely, he’d be too jealous of the idea of other men seeing the photographs that he’d never show them to another person? She’d been stupid and naive. He was Eric Rutherford, a man known to be obsessed with his art. What did she think was so special about her that he would give that up?

Afternoon was fading to evening, and she couldn’t walk back to campus like this.

She glanced behind her, hoping to see Eric coming after her, but the street was empty of anyone but strangers.

He wasn’t coming, and she could only blame herself for that. She’d lied to him and put him in a terrible position. She didn’t deserve to have him chasing after her.

Luckily, she’d managed to grab her purse on the way out, and she had just enough cash to be able to grab a cab. She looked a mess, with her makeup smeared from her tears and her clothes torn. Clutching her shirt together with one hand, she used the other to try to flag down any passing cabs. The first couple of vehicles drove right past, probably thinking she was trouble and wouldn’t have any money, but the third stopped.

“Oh, thank you so much,” she said, pulling open the back door and sliding onto the seat.

The driver looked back at her. “You’re not going to run on me, are you?”

Anya delved into her purse and pulled out some cash. “No, I have money. I can pay in advance, if you need.”

He shook his head. “Nah. Where you headed?”

She told him.

The driver looked her up and down and frowned slightly. “You okay, miss?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You haven’t been attacked or something?”

She gave a forced laugh. “Oh, no, nothing like that. I had a fight with my boyfriend. I’m fine, honestly.”

“I’ve got a daughter not much younger than you. If she had a boyfriend who left her in the state you’re in right now, I’d be telling her to get rid of him, shortly before I paid him a visit myself.”

“I’m fine, I promise. It isn’t how it looks.”

The man gave a ‘humph,’ but turned back to the front and pulled the car back out into traffic.

It did look bad, her with her torn shirt and tear-stained face. She thought her own father would act in a very similar way once he found out the news.

After a drive across the city, the cab pulled up in the campus parking lot, and Anya paid the driver and climbed out. She needed to get to her room before anyone saw her, but now was the time when people were just starting to go out for the evening, not go home.

Clutching her shirt even more tightly around her chest, and holding her purse  against her torso to try to hide the gaps, she put her head down and walked as quickly as she could without breaking into a run, toward her dorm.

“Hey, Anya!”

Her heart dropped, but she didn’t lift her head at the call. She recognized the voice all too well. Of all the people to see her, it would have to be him.

“Hey, don’t ignore me.” Gavin’s voice was closer now. She lifted her head slightly focusing on the building that housed her room. She just needed to get inside and then she could slam the door on him.

“I’m being serious, Anya. Look at the fucking state of you. What are you up to these days? Are you hooking, or something?”

The word shocked her into stillness and she twisted her face to him. “No, I am most certainly not! How dare you!”

“Really?” A smug smile spread across his face. “I think I’m going to ask some questions around campus. I’m sure someone will know something.”

Angry tears filled her eyes. If Gavin started spreading rumors that she was prostituting herself, her reputation would be ruined.

––––––––

T
hough Eric had tried to stop himself going after her, he’d only managed a matter of ten minutes before he’d given in. He’d run out onto the street, but not seen her anywhere. He had a Lexus he rarely used, kept in the parking garage beneath his building, and so he took the car to try to catch up with her.

He hoped Anya was all right. She’d been pretty upset when she’d left. He hoped she’d have money for a cab, and wouldn’t be attempting to walk home. It was already getting dark, and she shouldn’t be walking the streets when she was so upset, and with her clothes torn. She would be asking for trouble.

Their fight had his stomach in knots. Could he have an exhibition without her blessing, or bring himself to cancel and keep his work to himself? Either option didn’t seem like an option at all.

How was this going to be reconcilable? He felt mad at her for not telling him about her parents, but at the same time he was glad she hadn’t. If she’d told him, they would never have created the images they had, and he couldn’t go back on his work. Ever.

But a voice in his head spoke up.
Even if it means losing her?

He sighed. That, he didn’t know.

Something else occurred to him. Despite the heavy workout, the long walk, and then the fuck with Anya followed by their fight, he’d completely forgotten to eat.
Shit.
He’d not eaten all day. He had to be careful. It was too easy to slip back into bad habits, and forgetting to eat, sometimes for days at a time when he was working on an all encompassing project, was one of them.

He drove slowly along the route to Anya’s college, knowing she was staying in one of the dorms on campus. He kept his head twisted to watch the sidewalk, his eyes locking onto any small, blonde women walking down the street. None of them were Anya.

Perhaps she had caught a cab? He hoped so. He didn’t like to worry about her, and right now all he could do was think about her, the argument they’d had sitting like lead in his heart.

He reached the campus and pulled up outside. There were no parking spots, so he double parked, figuring he wouldn’t be too long. He couldn’t go walking into her dorm, but he could slip one of the other female students some money in order for them to go and find out if Anya had made it home safely. Of course, she might lie to get him off her back, but at least he’d feel like he’d done his best.

He climbed out of the car and froze, his heart hammering.

Anya was standing with someone, a guy, on the path in front of the main college building.
Who the hell is that?
He couldn’t tell for sure at this distance, but they appeared to be arguing. Anya held her shirt together between her breasts with one hand, while she gestured with the other. The young man stood with his hands on his hips, shaking his head.

A pang of guilt for upsetting her so much she’d felt the necessity to run home half-dressed wracked through him.

Damn it. That was his fault. She deserved to be treated like a princess, not a whore.

Still, the sight of her standing, half-dressed, with another man, made his blood boil. Without thinking about what he planned to do when he got there, Eric marched across the grass toward Anya. The person she argued with was a stocky man in his early twenties. He had the punch-drunk look of someone who liked to play sports and get in fights, completely the opposite of the type of person Eric had been at college. As he got closer he could tell the man was saying something to Anya, his mouth curled in a sneer of disgust. Anya’s nose was wrinkled in her own display of loathing, and she glanced away and shook her head, obviously disagreeing with whatever was being said. The man reached out and tried to tug at the hand Anya was holding her shirt together with. She slapped his hand away with her other hand, but he didn’t take any notice. Instead, he laughed and moved closer. Anya stepped back and stumbled, falling over her own feet, to land on her backside on the ground. Automatically, she put down both hands to break her fall, and her shirt fell open, exposing her bra.

The young man laughed.

Fury burst inside of Eric, a red haze descending over his vision. Before he could control himself, he’d broken into a run, pushing past other students, some of whom had noticed what was going on and stood, staring, talking behind their hands and giggling. Eric didn’t have a moment to take in the yells of annoyance as he shoved past them to get to Anya.

He stormed in front of the man and swung his fist, catching him on the jaw.

His punch knocked the guy’s head back.

The stocky man clutched his jaw in surprise, staring at Eric. “What the hell?”

“Don’t you ever lay a finger on her again, do you hear me?”

“Fuck you, man! Who the fuck are you?”

“I mean it, don’t you ever even look in her direction again.”

He turned to help Anya from the ground. She was staring at him as though seeing a figment of her imagination. He held his hand out to her, but before she had the chance to take it, something collided with his back. Anya only just managed to roll out of the way before Eric hit the ground, his chest slamming against the concrete, the breath exploding from his lungs. He forced himself to move, twisting around moments before the young man straddled his chest, taking swings at him.

A fist smacked Eric in the mouth. Pain exploded in his lip, and he tasted the iron tang of blood. Before he could retaliate, the guy swung again and this time connected with Eric’s nose. Fresh pain bloomed behind his eyes, spreading out to encompass his whole face. Eric roared in anger and placed two hands against the other man’s barrel chest, shoving with every ounce of strength he had, pushing him off. Anya’s attacker fell to one side, and in an instant, Eric was on top of him, repaying the blows. His fist connected with his cheekbone, pain bursting up through his knuckles, but he was too furious to care. The other man might have been ten years younger than Eric, but Eric was taller by six inches, and had the advantage of years of regular gym trips.

Hands were pulling on his shoulders, then her voice broke through his anger.

“Eric, stop it! Get off him!”

He felt as though a fog were clearing, and he looked down to see the boy’s eyes rolling in his head. Blood dribbled from his nose and the corner of his mouth. Small hands tugged on his shoulders again.

“Eric, please.” Anya’s voice, full of pleading and desperation.

Eric lifted a hand and wiped his face. More blood—his own this time—smeared across his palm. Slowly, in a daze and shaking from the adrenaline, he climbed off Anya’s attacker.

A small group of students had surrounded the fight, all watching with a mixture of dismay and morbid delight. Someone stepped from the crowd, another male student.

He lifted a hand and pointed at Eric. “Hey, man. Don’t I know you?”

Eric suddenly remembered himself. He’d lectured here. People would recognize him. Quickly, he turned to Anya, ducking his head. She seemed to understand his reaction, and she grabbed his elbow, ushering him away from the group, and from where the young man was groaning and starting to push himself to sitting.

“He’ll be fine,” Anya said, hustling him back across the grass toward the parking lot. “You need to get out of here.”

“I have a car.” He pointed to where he was parked. “The black Lexus over there. Who was that guy?”

“Gavin Hollis. He thinks he’s some big deal around here.”

“Does he make a habit of hassling you?”

Anya shrugged. “Now and then. He doesn’t like that I don’t date any college guys. He takes it as a personal insult and ... I don’t know ... some sort of challenge.”

“Asshole.”

“You got that right.”

He realized she’d managed to maneuver him back to his car. The collective eyes of the students were following their every movement. Gavin Hollis was on his feet now, his friends gathered around him, one nodding seriously at something he’d said, another pointing in Eric’s direction.

Anya gave him a little push on the shoulder. “Go on. Get out of here before someone calls the cops on you.”

Eric frowned. “But he was practically assaulting you!”

“No, he wasn’t. He was just being a jackass—something I’m perfectly capable of handling by myself.” It was her turn to frown. “What the hell are you playing at anyway, Eric? You are a grown man. You can’t go around beating up college kids.”