Chapter 8 of Nick's Talents
Enjoy this new chapter. Let me know if you got any idea's of suggestions at noway16@hotmail.com or check out www.timsfunplace.com for more of my stories.
I felt someone patting my shoulder.
"You all right, son?" I heard someone say.
I realized that the guy who I'd been staring at wasn't there anymore. I looked up and saw a guy in his 40s looking at me, worried. "You all right?" he repeated his question.
"Yea ...," but my mind was still wondering about what had happened a Moment ago. I was sure I'd never seen that lighthouse before, or the place where it was. But how had it come into my mind? What was causing these premonitions? It had felt like the time I was at Nick and Thomas's place ... as it had felt cold and threatening again, despite the beautiful scenery I'd seen.
"Your Dad will be here in a Moment and then we can tell you what we know so far."
He left and I was once again alone. What had just happened? This guy was acting as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened ... as if I'd just dreamed it ... but I was sure that there had been two people in the room minutes earlier ... before I'd had my dream ... my vision ... well, whatever it had been.
I looked up again when the door opened and Dad walked in. Ï stood up and threw myself into his arms. I cried while I hugged him.
"Francis! Is he OK?" he asked.
I guess he thought that I'd already been updated and that was why I was upset.
"Would you please sit down," the police office said politely, as if our earlier interrogation had not taken place.
"We'll be happy to update you on what we've discovered and, in turn, we might have some questions for you as well.
"Come on ... let's sit down, Nick," my Dad said.
"First, let me start by telling you what we know so far." He checked the notes in front of him and continued,
"On Monday morning, we were called in as the door to the sport area of the dorm Francis is living in was found open. Normally, it seems, it section is closed on weekends. The security guard who discovered this didn't enter the premises ... he awaited our arrival before proceeding inside. Together we walked in and found nothing out of the ordinary until we reached the locker room. There was a bag ... clothes all lying around the place. We found the shower running. There was no evidence of a struggle or a break in. The bag and clothes were examined but were found to be unmarked ... there was nothing to indicate who they belonged to. It was not until the mobile phone rang and you called, Nick, that we began to piece together who was involved. The mobile phone was in the bin ... hardly a normal place for it to be. We brought the coach in and he said that Francis was one of the few guys around for the weekend and also someone who'd use the facilities on Sunday to put some extra hours of training in. It seems he'd been doing that quite a lot. We questioned other students who'd been here during the weekend ... there was just three people. They said they'd not seen him after Sunday morning, when he'd definitely been here. They assumed that he'd returned to his room. So it seems he'd disappeared after his workout Sunday morning.
Then he looked directly at me and said, "Can I ask you a few questions, Nick?"
I nodded.
"No offence ... but are you his boyfriend?"
I nodded again.
"OK. That explains the picture of you which we found in his bag. When did you last have contact with him?"
"Hmmm ... earlier last week ... on the Tuesday, I think it was. We had a short phone call."
"You had a row?"
"More or less," I said reluctantly.
"Can you explain?"
"I'd hoped that he would come this weekend to the gallery opening of my work but he said he needed the training hours. I didn't get mad ... but the phone call was rather cold and abrupt."
"Is it fair to say that you've been having a rough patch lately?"
"A bit. We were both trying to concentrate on career things that were important to us at the Moment. Those differences were getting in the way of our relationship a little bit. It happens to every couple with two careers. That doesn't mean he didn't love me any more!" I added quickly.
"Hmmmm," the cop said.
"So ... to what conclusion have you come to so far?" my Dad interjected.
"It's a bit too early for conclusions, to be honest. We think he couldn't stand up either to the pressure of both being an athlete and being gay and ran off ... or he's been kidnapped. But we don't have enough evidence to support either theory. We haven't found any clear evidence of a kidnapping, and there's been no ransom demand ... and there's no reason to believe there was a struggle in there. If he's been kidnapped, we should know something within the next few days. Do you own a lot of property or money?" he asked my Dad.
"No."
"So ... do you know of any reason why he might have been the subject of a kidnapping?"
"No ... not really. There's one thing you should know about ... something that happened to my son ... but I think you'd better get the details from a police officer in our town. Make a call ... the police there can give you the background."
While they were talking, I was off in another world. I couldn't believe that Francis had left me without saying a word. That simply wasn't something that he would do ... I was sure of that. My Dad woke me from my thoughts and we left the room. It seems the conversation had ended. I'd missed the last bit of it, though. I looked around to see if I could see either of the guys who'd started out my interview, but I didn't see them.
"Now what?" I asked.
"Well ... if he's been kidnapped, the policeman said that we should hear something within the next few days ... so,
realistically, there's not really a lot we can do."
"They don't really believe anything has happened to him, do they? They just think he's run away."
"I don't know ... but they said that that was one of the two more obvious reasons for his disappearance."
"He'd never do that to me, Dad ... never."
"Can you be sure of that?" he asked quietly as we got into the car.
I looked at him as we slid into the front seats.
"I know you have your doubts, Dad ... but you don't know the full story of what happened between Brian and Francis. I can tell you ... Francis knows how deeply it can hurt if someone just leaves without saying a word. That is not something he'd do to anyone else."
"You never know, Nick. You never know."
"I know, Dad ... and that's all that counts for me."
"No Nick, you never know for sure" he said softly. "Never, you can think it as never it will happen but you are never, I say never sure".
He looked at me I knew what he was talking about. He had been left behind before and the hurt of all of that came back. I had not been thinking about it before but I was not sure I could handle such a situation again. I can't live with that again. There was just no way. I had the idea that he was waiting for me to talk but I didn't want to so I opened the door and said, "Lets get back in."
When we got back to the apartment, we updated Francis's Mom about all that had happened. The lack of news was unnerving ... she was definitely a lot more on edge than she'd been that morning.
"I think you're right, Nick. He'd never leave without saying anything."
Well ... that was at least someone who agreed with me.
"Now what?" I said.
"Well ... there's not a lot we can do from here. The police have tapped our phone lines, both at home and our mobiles ... so we just have to wait and see if anyone calls and demands something ... although I have no idea what they could want from us."
"You're thinking this is linked to what happened with the doctors and Mike?" I said, referring to my Dad's request that the police contact authorities in our town.
"Well ... that's the only connection I could see ... so that's why I gave them Keith's contact details."
I thought back to what had happened to me and the idea that someone might be hurting Francis made me sick. I ran to the toilet and started throwing up. I heard Francis's Mom say something to my Dad before he entered the bathroom.
"You OK, Nick?" I didn't need to answer as my stomach answered for me.
After a few minutes my stomach calmed down. I felt drained and my Dad dragged me to my bed. I was off to sleep even before I knew it.
I could tell you, day by seemingly endless day, what happened the next week but, to be honest, it was boring ... boring as hell because nothing happened. At least one of us would always be in Francis's apartment, awaiting a call ... but none came in. I spent quite a lot of time with David, Kathy and the baby and I guess they hoped that being with them would be a bit of a distraction for me. I think, in one sense, they were correct ... but inactivity was making me frustrated. I was starting to think that the police were correct ... that the pressure of his training and being with me had all gotten to be too much and that he'd run away.
At the end of that week we went for the third time to the police station and they finally came out and told us point blank that they didn't think that he'd been kidnapped. There was simply no evidence pointing in that direction. They said they'd investigated every serious lead ... and come up with nothing to indicate a kidnapping.
I'd lost the energy to fight as I didn't have anything to rebut their evidence ... only my two visions and the fact that they couldn't prove he'd run away either. But the police don't buy into visions. They wanted facts, and I didn't have any to offer. Or could I.
"Hmm officer can I talk to my Dad, please".
He looked at me,"Ok, just let me know when you are done. I will go and get some coffee."
"What is it Nick." My Dad asked.
"I, I don't know Dad but their might be a way to make them see that we are right and they are wrong."
"How Nick. We talked about it all now several times."
"I got something that I didn't tell you."
"What. Nick, what are you doing? You should tell them everything."
"I know but I am almost sure that they might not believe me."
"Tell me" he said.
"You remember that I told you that I had called Francis and that a guy answered the phone."
"Yea!"
"I didn't tell you why I made that phone call, did I?"
"No, I don't think you did."
"I was drawing back in Orlando and all of a sudden, I was attracted in my mind to a picture of an image of the locker room. There were a lot of people walking around, then a mobile phone went off and some one went into the bin and got it out. Together with that image, there was an awful feeling of something terrible happening. I knew it was Francis's mobile so I ran and called him. When I heard the story of the coach, I realized that the vision I had, had been me calling Francis".
"Yea so what has that to do with him being kidnapped Nick?" my Dad asked.
"Nothing yet. But do you remember the first time down here at the police station as I got angry when we had to wait so long? It was quite some time while I was alone in that room as you might remember".
"Yea, it took me a few more phone calls to the coach to get in their with you and get them to tell us what they where thinking at that time".
"Well I was not alone in their. Two guys where in their before you got in with the officer. I thought at that time they were officers as well. Especially since one of them was the guy that had answered my phone call to Francis in the locker-room. But the more I think about it the more I realize that they must have been some one else as they interrogated me quite forceful. More or less the same question that the officer later asked as well, with more "power and scare" tactics as well. And then it happened again as another image but this time I was drawn into the eyes of the fake officer and somehow I got linked to the view of a light house. No idea what that was all about but it got me quite shaking, By the time I came out of my vision, the officer was tapping my shoulder. But I still remember those last lines they said, "you will never see him again!" They came into my vision and I am not sure if they said it to me or it was something that was said to Francis. But it only got me even surer about the fact that he didn't run away, but that he is kidnapped. I just don't have the proof for it".
"Did you tell any one that those 2 men were in their with you?"
"No, I didn't as I don't think they would have believed me and I don't think they will believe me if I tell them now."
"No, I think you are right. I think it is something we might need to bring up with Keith as he knows you wouldn't make things up. Not sure they wouldn't just think that down here".
After that meeting we ... well, it was more or less Dad, acting on his own ... decided it was time for us to go back home. I'd had a big fight with him when he tried to persuade me to go back to university. I accused him of acting as if nothing had happened, and the house was very quiet for a long period. I didn't do a lot. I read ... I walked around town ... and that was it. As most of my former high school friends were all at university, there weren't a lot of people to talk with who knew me. I felt that the news was out ... as I could occasionally see out of the corner of my eye people pointing at me.
When I got home, there was one thing that really upset me. When I was away at Francis's apartment the only thing that I hadn't done was check my e-mails. When I opened my program at home, there were quite a number of messages, including one from Francis. He'd written it on the Saturday evening of my gallery opening.
Hi my lovely Nick,
I am sorry that I didn't answer your phone calls but I was afraid we might end up fighting and the last thing I wanted to do was make my absence for you even worse by having a phone call and a fight. I am not going to defend my choice of staying down here anymore. I made it and that is done. I know we need to talk talk about how we are going on, oh and don't doubt me that is what I want. I want us getting old together but I need time. Time to sort myself out, sort out if I want to go for, what I am doing or give in and stand by you. So I will keep on going and hope that we can meet up sometime before the trials. Please give me that time and we can meet up soon and work things out.
Your love, Francis
PS: I know your exhibition is going to be a knock out and you will sweep them off the floor as I know you are a very talented guy.
When I saw the e-mail, I had hoped it would give me some more clues but it didn't. It just added up to the dairy entry that I had read before. It didn't say when and if he would think this through, but that he wanted us to meet up in a few weeks. I thought about mentioning it to my Dad but decided against it as I was still convinced that he was kidnapped. This was not like him, leaving a note for me to think, but I know that some might have read that into it.
I had a phone call from Nick, asking gently how things were going and I could feel that he wanted me back to finish off the portrait of Thomas ... but I replied that doing that now wasn't a good idea. I said that he would be disappointed with the result if I worked on it now. I knew my present mood would show up in my work. I'd continued to draw and paint but what I produced was dark, grey, cold ... nothing like my former approach of bright, warm colors and vividly sketched emotions. All that was, for the Moment, gone. It all seemed gloomy and sad. I seemed to have entered a dark period, both personally and professionally.
I had phone calls from the rest of the gang as well. Brian, Andy, Alexei, James, Randy, Steve, they all had called and although it didn't feel like being ganged up bye them there was a twitch of questions in each of them that felt like they where comparing notes.
The first two weeks after we got home, life went past me. I spend most of the time in my room, reading the last words that Francis has written, trying to find some reason for it all. On the first Saturday after we were home, Keith came by.
"So ... what are they telling you, Keith?" my Dad asked after he poured cups of coffee for us all.
"Well ... they're still investigated it, but I've got the feeling ... not that hard, to be honest."
"Did they find anything new?"
"No, not really. Sorry Nick ... but it seems that he hasn't been talking a lot with others ... so there are really very few leads. They still think he was depressed concerning his performances and that that was too much."
"He could handle it," I said emphatically.
"One of them said that your success might have been too much for him ... but they're not putting that into the equation at this point."
"So now what?" my Dad asked.
"I don't know ... but I really don't feel there's a lot I can do, I regret to say."
"You did tell him what happened down here two years ago, didn't you?"
"Yea ... but they said that there were no signs of any activity of that kind at all."
"So ... we just sit and wait then?" my Dad said.
"If he's gone of his own accord, he'll show up as being patient is the only possible response. If someone has him and they want something in return, they'll contact you. But it is now more than a week since there's been a sign of him ... and I'd have expected them to do something by now so ..."
I looked at him. "There is something I haven't told them Keith. Shsss," I said when he wanted to interrupt. "I know that was stupid maybe but it has to do with me and I don't think I can explain anything, nor is it really proof of anything at this Moment".
"So what is it then," Keith said.
So I told him about the vision's and the so called police officers.
"I think you did ok with that Nick. As I suspect they wouldn't have gone easy on you with that. That might just be something from you to push them in a direction. Maybe even worse as they might have thought you had done something".
He waited a Moment and then continued, "Not sure though that it changes actually anything either. It seems strange but ,as you said there is no proof of anything."
He wasn't saying it out loud but, in between the lines, even Keith thought that Francis had simply run away. I let out a deep sigh and left the room.
Just when I was about to close the door, I heard Keith ask my Dad, "He's not doing well, is he?"
I closed the door as I didn't want to hear my Dad's answer to that question. I didn't want to think about how I felt, what I was feeling. I had put the feeling part aside as it just hurt too much.
In my bedroom I got one of my books out. Reading helped to pass the time ... to not think and to get lost in a different world was such a pleasure. I'd now finished Lord of the Rings and, to be honest, it hadn't brought the joy that I should have felt. I more or less got stuck in the travels of Frodo through Mordor, in despair, collared in black.
During the next week, I had a few phone calls from James ... he was more or less the only one I could talk to. I know that Nick, Alexei, Andy and other friends all called as well but I didn't feel like talking to them. James was keeping me informed about school stuff. I knew I couldn't stay away too long any more so, when he pushed me a bit in our fourth call, that a change of scenery might be a good idea ... I caved in and told my Dad I would go back to school. I could see that my Dad was not happy with my decision. But if Francis needed time to sort things out ... or if he was never coming back ... then the last thing I wanted to do was put my life on hold.
So I got back, more or less, into a normal rhythm. Well, normal in the sense that I went to school ... I did do some sketching again but I left my paint brushes far away. I had tried to paint once but was astounded by my use of so much black, dark blue and purple in my work. Those were just not the colours I'd ever used before. I guess that my artistic sensibilities were a reflection of how I felt and expressing my inner turmoil was something I was definitely trying to avoid.
It didn't take too long for one of my professors to come up and ask me what was going on. I tried to run as I didn't want to give him a real answer. Somewhere in the conversation, I said that I'd lost my direction. His answer ... that it was impossible to lose it ... I guess meant nothing to me.
The second weekend when I was back living with James and going to school, James told me not to make any plans ... not that I had so far ... as he was going to organise a small party. He told me that he had passed the first hurdle in getting a big important show at a local musical event. One of his professors told me that they liked a few of the songs he'd written and the organisers now wanted him to perform them on stage. James wanted to celebrate that, but I guess it was just a way for him to invite Alexei over.
I told James he could do whatever he wanted as long as he didn't expect me to stay around too long. He said that that was OK, and that he wanted some alone time with Alexei anyway. I think he was taken aback by my reaction as I was overwhelmed by a feeling of absolute loneliness when he said it. The first time ever, I'd let my real feelings show.
It was on that Friday night in my room when I heard some one arrive. I knew from the sounds that it must have been Alexei. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and just hoped he wouldn't come into my room. But when the door stayed closed, I continued to read one of my art history books. Studying those was mainly what I did lately.
An hour or so later, I realised there were now more voices and I thought it was time for me to go and see who had arrived. I was happy that no one had showed up in my room ... giving me the privacy I needed ... but I was not sure how long that might last if I didn't make an appearance.
"Hey, Nick ... there you are!" someone said from a corner of the room when I opened the door to the living room.
I was a bit taken aback by the number of people who were there. I thought that Alexei would have come over and maybe a few friends from school. But the school friends were absent ... and instead friends from all over had arrived. I felt my knees buckle when Brian and Andy walked over to me and Brian took me into his arms for a hug.
He didn't say anything, but I guess that was a good thing. He was followed quickly by Andy, Randy, Alexei and (to my surprise) Nick. I knew he had called me, too ... but I thought he just wanted me to finish what I'd started and that was the last thing that I could do at this point.
I looked at James who was now standing in front of me. "You organised this?" I asked him.
"Sorry, Nick ... but I thought you could do with some friends around at a time like this."
"Well ... maybe you should have asked," I said ... a bit more aggrieved than circumstances justified.
"What would you like to drink then?" Alexei asked.
"I think I'm going to go back to my room ... so no drinks for me," I said with a friendly, well-intentioned smile. I appreciated their good intentions, but I hoped that they'd leave me alone.
I turned around and walked back to my room. I was waiting for Alexei to follow, but I was surprised when I turned around ... that it was Nick, standing there. He looked at me ... I just looked back. It seemed as if time was passing very slowly as we both kept silent, just looking at each other.
I think then that the tension broke as we both started to cry and give each other a heartfelt hug.
The tears were for the loss I felt so keenly ... and I knew the loss that Nick would feel soon.
"So how is he doing?" I asked when we stopped crying and looked at each other again.
"Hanging in. He had a bit of a relapse a week or two ago but, since then, he's been better again. We're just waiting for the next relapse, to be honest. And you?"
"I'm just not Nick ... not thinking ... not feeling ... not anything. It's the only way I seem able to pass the time."
"Yea, I guess so. Thomas is preparing me for the inevitable ... we both know what is coming ... but for you ... the way things are happening ... it must feel so surreal."
"It does ... you're facing things together ... you're not alone, not knowing what's happened. It's different for me. I just don't believe that he's run away, though."
"Well ... maybe you should do something then."
"Like what? I've no clue where to start or what happened. And I don't know if I could handle it if I tried to find him and nothing came out of it, to be honest. I can't handle another blow, you know."
"I know ... but you just have to start dealing with it and get on with your life. How is your painting and drawing going?"
"Sorry ... I haven't finished your piece yet, Nick. I've lost direction and I'm not sure what would happen if I finished it now, to be honest. It might end up as a black space."
"Oh, I didn't expect you to be working on it. I just hope you will some time. I meant ... in general, is it helping you by providing a means of escape?"
"Not really. It almost feels as if something is missing."
"Hmmmm ... well, that might well be the case today ... but you'll find your inspiration again."
"So ... why did you all come over today?"
"Well ... we wanted to be with you ... and see if there was anything we could do to help."
"Well, I appreciate that ... but I'm not sure you can."
"Will you at least join us in the living room?" Nick asked.
"In a Moment, I might ... sure. I was just taken aback by the fact that all of you were here."
"OK ... just take your time."
He then left the room. I knew that he was right ... I couldn't keep avoiding them. It had felt good to cry and talk with him. Surprisingly, I'd done it without hesitation ... something I couldn't have done with my Dad or David. Strangely, I'd been able to do that with someone that I hardly knew.
About 15 minutes later, I returned to the living room and asked Alexei to get me a drink. For the next hour or so, we talked about lots of things. I found out how things had been going with every one of them. It seems that they'd all tried to give Francis his space recently.
At one point, it was silent. Alexei looked at me. "We're avoiding the subject we're all here for, Nick. Do you have any ideas how we can help you? We know you don't believe that he's run away ... so what can we do to help find him."
"I just don't know, Alexei. I can't think of any place he might go ... or any way to contact him."
"So you can't come up with any idea where he might be?"
"No, I can't."
"Have you had any more flashbacks, Nick ... like the one you had at our place?" Nick asked.
"No, not one."
"Hmmmm ... that's strange, though ... you'd think that you might have had more of them."
"I don't know if I'd want to have more of those experiences, Nick, to be honest."
"Well ... maybe we need to think about this situation ... and, if there's anything we can do to help you ... you have to let us know, OK?" They all murmured their agreement with that last statement.
"I know you're here for me ... and I will."
"So ... are you going to the closing of the exhibition tomorrow?" Brian asked.
"Oh, I don't know." I knew Tom had tried to contact me several times ... and he'd written me an e-mail to say that he was inviting all three artists to come back tomorrow at 3 p.m. for the last time. It seems that most of my works had been sold by now ... and there had been a huge crowd out to see the exhibition in the month it'd been open. It had been an unqualified success.
I wondered why our show wasn't extended, given its popularity, but it seems that Tom had other works ready to display. I imagine that he wanted to keep the cash coming in by showing new works.
"No, I haven't thought about that, to be honest."
"Well ... we want to go in together and enjoy your work and that of your companions one more time before it closes."
"Oh, you can go."
"Are you sure that you don't want to go with us?" Alexei asked.
"No ... I don't think that that would be a good idea."
"Well ... you don't have to commit quite yet," Andy ventured.
"So ... where are you all staying tonight?" I asked as I noticed that everyone was drinking freely ... a sure sign that no one intended to drive tonight.
"Oh, we're having a slumber party!" Nick yelled. "We're all staying here ... James thought it'd be fun to have a slumber party ... we'd just fall asleep whenever we liked."
"In here?" I asked.
"Well ... I suspect that James and Alexei will sleep in James's room ... but we were planning on staying right here in the living room. You're welcome to stay, too!" Brian said, smiling.
I'm not sure I want to do that ... but more alcohol? That might be a good idea."
I got myself a glass of whiskey and, to be honest, the rest of the chat from that evening more or less passed me by.
The next morning came quite late, to be honest. I woke up lying in bed, with Brian in the chair beside me. I wasn't sure why he wasn't in the living room with Andy. He looked quite sweet, lying there in the chair with his eyes shut. He had a very gentle facial expression while asleep. No wonder Francis had fell for him in the past! The Moment I thought about that, I felt as if I'd been stabbed through my heart. Francis!!! Where was he, and what on earth was going on? I sat straight up but my head was bounding to much alcohol I though. I slowly moved towards the washroom.
When I came back from the washroom, Brian stirred and whispered, "Ah you are awake, Nick?"
"Yea. I'm not sure waking up this morning is a good idea, to be honest, as my head doesn't feel too good. How much did we drink?"
"Oh ... I'm not sure but, if your head feels like mine, it must have been a lot." "So why are you here and not in the living room?" I asked him.
"I've no idea ... but this is quite a comfortable chair, I must say."
"I can't hear anything ... so maybe we should wait before waking up the rest."
"Yea, we don't need to leave for another two hours or so, I think," Brian added. "Are you going with us this afternoon?"
"I don't know, Brian."
"You're looking up to see Francis's painting?" He asked the question that I'd been dreading to ask myself.
"I think so. I'm not sure if I can keep it together when I do."
"Well, you don't need to see it. We can ask Tom to put it away."
"You think we could?"
"Yea, why not? Do you want me to give him a ring?"
"If you want to do that, sure. So ... do you have any idea what happened? You've known Francis longer than any one else."
"I have no idea, Nick ... truly ... but I agree with you ... I can hardly believe he'd run away, to be perfectly honest."
"Well ... where is he then?"
"No idea ... but he'll turn up, I'm sure."
"I just hope nothing is wrong, you know?"
"Yea, me too ... but, as long as no one comes forward to say that they've kidnapped him ... it's difficult to have any idea what's going on exactly."
"Hmmmm ... yea, it's all so strange."
"That is what the private detective said as well ... ooops!"
"What????"
He blushed.
"I shouldn't have said that ... I'm sorry, Nick. But a few of us hired a private detective to find out happened to Francis ... but he couldn't find any leads either. And he's a good detective, believe me."
"Oh, well! If he can't find him, what can I do then?"
"I have no idea, Nick ... but we'll be there if you need our help, remember that."
"Yea, I know," I sighed.
"OK ... I'll go and make that phone call ... be right back."
He left. I stretched in bed again. I guess I should get up if I really wanted to go. But I'd agreed that I'd meet up with Nicole at some point ... only that I wasn't looking forward to seeing Tyler, our other exhibitor, again. But I could avoid him. I liked Nicole ... and it'd be good to see what the final outcome of the exhibition was. I just hoped that Tom would give me time before he scheduled my next one. I knew he wanted one soon but it had to wait now.
We had breakfast and then got in two cars and drove over to the gallery. There were quite a few people inside, I saw. I walked towards Tom. He smiled when he saw me. He excused himself from the guest he was chatting with and walked towards me.
"It's good to see you, Nick! Can you come with me to my office for a Moment?"
"Hmmmm ... but what about your guests?"
"Oh, they'll be fine for the time being"
When we got to his office, he sat down behind his desk, looked at me and said, "I'd have loved to have said, you're looking good ... but, to be honest, Nick, you're not. How are you keeping up?"
"I'm not, Tom ... not at all. You have Alexei and the group there to thank that I'm here at all. I miss Francis ... a lot.
Did you put his painting away?"
"Yea, as you wanted ... it's already packed. You only have to let me know where to send it."
"I will, don't worry."
"OK ... now, down to business. As I expected, you sold all your works. I know you don't want to sell a few items, so I told the potential buyers that already. They said they wanted to be kept informed about future exhibitions of your work so they could have a first opportunity to bid on any further works. I told them that, if the offer were reasonable, they'd have first dibs on it."
"OK ... so that means you want me to have another exhibition?"
"Yes, as soon as you're up to it ... although I understand that it might take some more time before you're ready."
"If you want only black paintings, I can have one next week, I suspect," I said with a weak laugh.
"Hmmmm ... so, you've transitioned into that kind of painting, Nick."
"I paint according to my mood ... so if I paint now ... that's the way I feel. But I've been doing some sketches ... and they've worked out quite well."
"Ah ... well, take your time. I think if you do the same number of works as this time, or just a few more ... that would be enough. Nicole is more than happy to do the other half."
"She said something like that the last time we chatted. It seems our styles compliment each other."
"That is what I keep hearing from the visitors as well."
"And Tyler?"
"Well ... he only sold two pieces so I'm not going to exhibit him again, to be honest. I thought he showed promise ... but he didn't come through with enough quality pieces."
"He's still around?"
"Yea, he's out there."
"OK ... well, I want to avoid him if I can. So is that it?"
"I think so. I'll add up the offers later on so I can tell you then what the total is."
"That isn't necessary ... just transfer the money as agreed. I trust you."
"Ok ... then we're done. I might have a surprise when we close but I'm not sure she can make it on time."
"More celebrities?" I asked, knowing all too well that he was quite well known in the world of high society.
"You'll see if it happens. Now, go and mingle."
It was fun to be there with all my friends around. There were some questions from people who I didn't know but, most of the time, I was just able to sit with my friends, drinking a bit and laughing.
At some point, though, Nicole came up and we had a chat. We agreed we'd see each other for lunch later that week. It was quite funny, though, as ... although she tried to make contact with the famous people in our group ... no one responded to her as she would have wanted. I'm sure she'd wonder because it's impossible for a girl so pretty not to have the attention of guys except if they're all gay. I'd have to talk with them about heir reaction to her, as I'm sure the subject would come up during lunch.
Tom had asked us to circulate one more time among some of his special guests, so I did that. When I came to the end, Tyler came over with two glasses in his hands.
"Well, it's almost over now. I got you a drink, Nick."
I looked at him but he seemed friendly.
"Thanks, Tyler. No hard feelings, I hope."
"No, it's difficult to get attention with my work when it's shown with that of two such excellent artists. I know I'm not up to your standards or Nicole's ... but I can hold my own, when it's shown in the right surroundings."
"Good for you ... as you know, our styles just don't go well together."
"I know ... and I never want to show anything again with a dyke and a faggot, that's for sure," he said without pausing.
"Now, stop that! I've never done anything to you," I said, equally quickly. Dyke, I wondered in my mind.
"Well, not on purpose ... but Tom should have warned me that I wouldn't be treated equally. This should have been my breakthrough. The next showing will be a lot more difficult for me ... but that's something you'll never know after your success here."
I'd taken a few sips of the drink. "But, as you said ... no hard feelings. Let's drink up our drinks."
He emptied his glass and put out his hand to take mine. I drank the rest and gave the glass to Tyler. Almost instantly, I felt my legs begin to give way.
"What's happening?" I asked myself, looking around to see if there was anyone other than Tyler nearby.
"Let me help you, as I think you're having trouble standing," Tyler said.
Before I knew it, he was beside me and put his arms around me. I'm sure that otherwise, I'd have collapsed to the floor.
"Let's get you to lie down."
"Can you call one of my friends?" I looked at him, pleasing.
"Hmmmm ... I can help you, Nick. You don't need them."
I knew then that I was in trouble ... the drink he'd prepared ... his avoiding my friends. He started to move towards one of the side doors, an emergency exit, with me leaning against him.
Hope you enjoyed this chapter. More of my writings at www.timsfunplace.com. Or you can contact me through noway16@hotmail.com