Date: Wed, 16 Feb 2005 13:26:49 -0800 (PST)
From: Shannon S <bluewritergrl@yahoo.com>
Subject: Insomnia Chapter 2
Disclaimer: Anything mentioned in this story is complete fiction. The
sexuality of anyone in the story is not necessarily true, but just written
to entertain. If you are underage or if it is illegal to read pornographic
material where you live, please leave now. Also, if you are uncomfortable
with gay relationships, you should not read any further. For everyone else,
enjoy the show...
Chapter 2
For most, the morning after having only four hours of sleep is
rough at best. Grainy blood shot eyes, uncooperative muscles, and that
unmistakable feeling that you will fall asleep at the most inopportune time
during the day. But for me, four hours was bliss. I was more energetic and
bright eyed then I had been, in what felt like, years.
As I made my way to the dinning room, gliding across small winding
stone pathways and past miraculously lush landscapes of grass, I wondered
if I owed a nod of gratitude to the beautiful stranger I had spent the
latest hours of the night with in the garden. Without his shining blue
green eyes I might have never gotten to sleep at all, let alone had such a
peaceful one.
When I opened the doors to the dinning room foyer the deliciously
sweet smell of cinnamon rolls was the first thing to catch my
attention. I've always had an affinity for sweets. Lucky for me I was
blessed with good jeans and a fast metabolism to burn them off before they
could even slide completely down my throat, or so my mother used to say.
She always liked to indulge my sweet tooth whenever
possible. Actually she liked to spoil me with anything at all that would
make me smile, if only for a few moments. Those things of course were few
and far between. Living in a war torn country tended to darken any ones
face, especially that of a young child.
I was quickly brought back to the United States and reality when
the hostess interrupted my brooding thoughts. As she guided me expertly
through the large room that seemed to be alive with the twinkling of
diamond studded chandeliers, 24 karat gold accents, and fine crystal
champagne glasses; I wondered what the American fascination with
ridiculously expensive, hence gaudy, surroundings was all about. I had
actually been wondering that since I moved here but it became more evident
every time I traveled any distance from my small loft apartment in the Meat
Packing district of Manhattan.
My choice of hotel accommodations for my trip to the city of angels
was quite naïve. Being one who prefers smaller more quaint surroundings
especially if I'm traveling into some unknown territory, I immediately
searched for the hotel with the least rooms and the most exquisite gardens
and landscaping possible. Unfortunately this was also the most expensive
and garish of them all. Since the gallery offered to buy my affection by
fronting the money for my trip I decided to give it a shot. After all, it
couldn't be but so overdone right?
The few early morning patrons of the dinning room that I was
escorted past glanced my way with raised eyebrows, most likely unsure of
how to process my appearance with the excessive surroundings.
I do have to admit that at first glance I am a generally big man,
my height having much to do with this but also my build which closely
resembled the quintessential construction worker at the time with broad
shoulders, sculpted arms, and a very defined chest. My broad structure
aside; the long hair, my affinity for not shaving for days on end, and my
daily attire of paint splattered ripped jeans and range of fitted t-shirts
just didn't go over so well in some circles.
I've gotten so used to the glances and full on stares, from women
and men alike, that they actually don't faze me anymore. This time however,
my eyes were wandering a bit as well hoping to catch a glimpse of my late
night companion. Assuming he needed his beauty sleep for his debut
performance I reluctantly dined alone. As I flipped open the menu, idly
turning pages but secretly wondering if I would ever run into him again, I
felt a presence walking toward my table.
The first and only thing I could do when I looked up and saw him
was try to catch my breath. I could feel my face slip into that goofy grin
that I would forever have whenever he walked into a room to grace me with
his presence.
He smiled as well those beautiful eyes wrinkling just slightly at
the corners.
"How'd you sleep?" he asked.
I nodded slightly trying to lure myself out of my stupor. "Good," I
finally managed after what felt like hours.
There was silence for a moment as I searched my mind for some way
to get him to join me without seeming too eager, desperate, or creepy. I
feared it was going to be one of the most difficult things I ever had to
come up with.
"May I join you?" he finally asked looking as though he had gone
through the same catalog of thoughts that I was going through. Fortunately
for me he was much more reckless. If it hadn't been for him there was a
good chance that I would still be sitting there pondering how to ask him to
eat breakfast with me to this day.
"Of course," I said quickly trying not to sound as enthusiastic as
I felt. "I was just going to ask you."
He smiled as he sat across from me, hands folded on the white table
cloth, leaning forward ever so slightly towards me. The small corner table
gave little buffer to the intoxicating aroma of his cologne. I will never
forget the smell. He smelled so sweet like vanilla and coconut mixed with
the fresh scent of jasmine. I realized I had closed my eyes as I tried to
burn the memory of his aroma into my mind and opened them quickly. I was
almost afraid he would be gone, as if I had dreamed him up in some crazy
fantasy, but he was there squinting at me.
"Did you just fall asleep?" he asked laughing lightly.
"No, not at all. I was just^Å" I trailed off unable to explain what
I had been doing in any uncertain terms. "^Åthinking."
"About your art show? It is today right?"
"Yes at ten."
"Nervous?"
"Not about that." I knew I was being somewhat short with him but I
was a little rusty when it came to talking to a guy that caused me to be
utterly speechless.
"So what do you feel like?" he asked his eyes drifting down my
chest to the menu I had immediately discarded when I saw him staring down
at me.
"I'm not sure yet. Why don't you give it a go?" I asked handing him
the menu. I studied everything about him as he studied the menu. The furrow
of his brow as he read description after description of delectable entrees,
his strong set jaw, full pink lips, broad shoulders, combined with the way
he continually leaned forward as he sat across from me caused my heart to
flutter.
I have always been one to immediately ponder the future when it
came to love. But in this case I had us picking out china patterns before
our coffee was placed in front of us. It worried me how easily I was being
drawn into this person I had really only met about five hours earlier but
then he would say something or lean his head just slightly to the right as
he listened to me speak and all thoughts of being practical went right out
of the proverbial window.
"So this art show of yours," he said pausing to sip his coffee, "is
it by invitation only?"
"No not at all," I said slicing into my pancakes with my fork as my
heart began to beat harder. I had a feeling I knew what was coming but
another fault of mine, if you may not already be aware of before reading
this letter, is getting my hopes up too soon. "It's open to the public."
He nodded chewing silently for a moment before he said those few
words that I longed to hear.
"Can I go with you?" he asked simply his eyes searching mine.
"Of course," I said letting out a breath I had been holding in for
quite sometime. "You're actually in luck, it's the one place I actually
know how to get to here."
"I'm actually in the market for a few pieces for my new place."
"I hope you like what you see."
"I already do," he said locking my eyes again.
I tore my eyes away from his to study my plate as a warm rush of
blood filled my cheeks to reveal me blushing despite my tan and my
embarrassment to the entire dinning room.
"Where did you move?" I finally asked daring myself not to look at
his face again.
"Still in Orlando. That was kind of where our band was based so
we've all hung around even though we're doing other things at the moment."
"So you hope to become a group again at some point?"
"Sure, whenever it feels right really," he said shrugging. "We just
all needed to spread our wings, kind of experience other things for
awhile."
"But you still talk?"
"Yeah all the time. I was actually living with one of them, Justin,
for awhile. But now that I have my own place he doesn't have to put up with
me anymore. Or is that the other way around?" he asked laughing.
"I know what you mean. Living with someone is a lot different then
just being their friend, no matter how close you are."
"Sounds like you're speaking from experience."
"Actually my friend Ahnna and I shared an apartment for a few years
after we moved here. I love her and everything but renting a studio with
her wasn't the most fun experience in the world."
"That must have been tough. Justin and I probably would have been
at each other's throats if we had to be that close. Luckily he has more
then enough room that if we wanted to we didn't have to see each other for
the day."
"That must be some house."
"It's pretty nice. Of course I like mine better but we're a bit
competitive like that sometimes."
"Why's that?"
"I don't know. Maybe he missed out on having an older brother when
he was growing up, although I was there most of the time."
"You two grew up together?"
"Kind of but probably not the way you're thinking of. We were on a
television show together for a while when we were kids. That's actually how
we met. Then we went on to become closer friends and joined a band
together."
"I bet you've had to tell that story a lot."
"You have no idea," he said laughing. "I have to say, this time I
don't mind it quite as much though."
I smiled at him, getting a bit more comfortable with him and his
comments.
"How did you get started painting?" he asked wiping his cloth
napkin across his mouth and placing it back on his lap.
"Well my mother was a painter that's actually one of the reasons
she moved to South Africa in the first place."
"Where is she from?"
"Born in Italy but moved around a lot from what she told me. I used
to wake up early in the morning to go outside and paint the sunrise with
her. We always did that together a few times a week and gradually my
paintings started to look more realistic and in some cases she would say
better then her own."
"Did you go to art college?"
"No I didn't even finish high school. I guess I just never had the
desire to succeed in school. I've found that there are a lot of more
important things in life."
"Like what?"
"Well," I said sighing, "I was about thirteen and my mother had
just died. I didn't really have any direction in my life anymore. School
just didn't matter."
"I'm sorry about your mom."
"Thank you," I said politely hoping to gloss over the subject as
effortlessly as possible. I actually shocked myself by actually talking
about her death, something that I still never do.
"Was it easy for you to find work when you came here?" he asked
most likely sensing that the conversation needed to be slightly diverted.
"I guess so. I bused tables at Tavern on the Green for about a year
while I tried to figure out what I wanted to do with my life."
"So you didn't want to be a painter?"
I laughed lightly, "I actually didn't know that people, as few as
there are, could actually make a living doing it."
"Didn't your mom?"
"No, she actually never sold a painting. She had money from my
grandparents will that we lived off of."
"How did you get started then?"
"While I was busing tables I met the owner of a pretty popular art
gallery. He sort of took me under his wing and introduced me to the right
people."
"Good thing you were already in New York. Any reason why you picked
there?"
"Ahnna was accepted to NYU, that's the main reason why we left in
the first place. Also, I guess in the back of my mind I was hoping to
contact my father. Last thing I heard he was living there."
"Did you ever?"
"It's weird but before I left it was all I could think about and
then I got to New York and it didn't really matter to me anymore."
"So you never knew him?"
"No, he left before I was born." Suddenly I realized my life wasn't
sounding as great as it could have been. "On that note," I said smiling,
"we should probably head out to the gallery."
"Okay. Should I change first?" he asked looking down at his red
track jacket and white t-shirt.
I looked at him quizzically for a moment wondering if he intended
to go throw on a tuxedo. "You look perfect. Plus I'm going like this so you
might as well be comfortable. I've actually found that the worse I look the
more paintings I tend to sell at these things."
"Really?"
"I guess there's something about a starving artist that compels
people to open their wallets," I said standing after I scribbled my name
and room number on the bill.
"You didn't have to do that. I can pick it up," he said reaching
for the black leather booklet.
"Don't worry about it, it's just breakfast."
"Then I'll have to return the favor. Dinner tonight, maybe?"
"I thought you had a concert to perform," I said placing my small
portfolio case over my shoulder.
"It should be over by about ten, ten thirty at the latest. I know
you won't be asleep yet."
"Well in that case I'd love to."
"Good," he said smiling at me as we walked back through the dinning
room to the entrance of the hotel. "So it's a date?"
"Looks like it," I said as I smiled politely at the hostess while
we exited the building. "At what point exactly should I have told you that
the gallery was paying all of my expenses, including meals?"
He laughed, "I guess I should find some guy who works there and
take him out instead then."
"Technically you should take out the owner."
"Okay then him."
"He's a she so I guess you're stuck with me."
"Oh darn," he said winking at me.
*~*~*
As we were walking through the gallery, our shoulders slightly
brushing against one another's, I thought about how comfortable he made me
feel. I'm a pretty confident person for the most part but for some reason
when I first met Joshua he had arisen feelings as well as that familiar
nervousness that I never thought I would have again. It would actually
prove to be the feeling that I always had around him, but it was changing
for the better. It was leveling out to a steady longing, a constant heart
throb that was becoming a part of me; the biggest part really, taking over
my being completely.
"This is beautiful," he said staring up at the largest piece in my
collection at the time. It was a floor to ceiling abstract of one of the
many sunrises in Africa I had witnessed.
I looked away from it remembering the morning I had painted it,
knowing I had subconsciously added too much red because of what happened
the night before.
"What's wrong?" he asked most likely seeing all of the color drain
right out of my face.
"Nothing," I said clearing my throat. "I'm glad you like it."
"Are you--" he started.
"I'm fine," I interrupted placing my hand on his shoulder. I gave
it a small squeeze and turned to make my way through the crowds of people
trying to get my attention.
"Josiah, darling! Everything is exquisite," a woman said grasping
my arm. I didn't recall who she was at all but she seemed to have that
familiar sparkle of recognition in her eyes that I had seen all too often
at openings and exhibits.
"Thank you," I said politely nodding towards her.
I continued my walk to the back of the gallery being stopped once
again but this time by a familiar face.
"Not sneaking away so soon are we?"
I couldn't help but smile, "No not this time. I promised you I
would see this thing through Ricky."
"Then you won't mind joining me over here," the tall blonde said
wrapping an arm around my waist. "There are some people I'd love for you to
meet."
"As you wish," I said laughing as he led me towards a small group
of people.
"Loosen up. Have a drink gorgeous," he said grabbing a glass of
champagne from a passing tray and leaning it towards me.
"You know I don't drink."
He shrugged and downed the sparkling contents of the glass in one
swallow.
As I "networked" I slowly let my eyes travel over the patrons of
the gallery searching for Joshua. I spotted him still staring up at the
canvas where I had left him so abruptly. One might wonder why I would even
put that particular painting up for sell if it raised such deep emotion in
me whenever I looked at it. But that was exactly why I had to let it go. I
had felt an extreme liberation of my frustration and sadness when I painted
it however, it would be an even stronger release of all of those feelings
once it was gone. That painting was the only reason I had taken the offer
to have an exhibit in California. I wanted as far away from me as possible.
"Hey," I said finally able to pull myself away from the incessant
questions of why I had painted this a certain way or where my mind had been
at the time I did that.
"Hi," Joshua said smiling brightly at my presence. "You know I've
actually never been to an art exhibit before. But I like this."
"I'm glad."
"So what do I have to do to take this one off your hands?" he asked
nodding towards the piece that I both loved and hated at the same time.
"This one, really?" I asked a little less enthusiastic then I meant
to be.
"It's beautiful," he said squeezing my forearm as if to reassure me
of my skill.
All thoughts of getting a small house together somewhere quiet
where we could stay in bed late on a Sunday morning and read the newspaper
to one another flew out of my head. There was no way anything like that was
going to happen if that thing was hanging on a wall anywhere in the
vicinity.
I swallowed deeply and cleared my throat. "Have you seen the
flamboyant platinum blonde running around? His name is Ricky and he would
be the one to talk to."
"Oh okay. I thought you handled this."
"Nope, just the talent. The gallery is usually the brains."
He smiled at me and walked off to search for the man in charge as I
stood in front of my nemesis. I assumed that if I ever did make it to
Joshua's new house I could just ignore the painting. After all it had been
sitting in my loft staring at me for the past five years. It had been such
a hardship to send it over here and then to look at it every day as I
finished other works. A constant reminder of what happened that night would
be permanently with the man that I thought I could potentially have some
sort of meaningful relationship with, whatever that means. It was an ironic
situation at best.
"It's a go," he said brightly, making me jump out of my thoughts
and land back in the gallery abruptly.
"Good. I hope you enjoy it," I said looking up at it one last
time. I turned my back to the painting and smiled at him as best as I
could.
He smiled as well tilting his head as he did so often when he was
trying to comprehend something I was saying he might not quite get
otherwise. "It should be shipped to Florida in time to meet me when I get
back from my show; speaking of which I have a rehearsal in about twenty
minutes."
"Okay. Do you need a ride somewhere?"
"No you have to stay here. I actually called someone to come get me
so I'm all set."
"Well thank you for joining me for breakfast and then here," I said
waving a hand out to the gallery.
"No problem. I'd like to go to another one sometime. Maybe in New
York?"
"I'd love to have you," I said realizing that I meant it in every
sense of the phrase.
"Why don't you come to my show tonight? I'm no Sinatra but you
might enjoy yourself."
"You don't have to do that."
"I want to. If we're going to have dinner anyway, you might as well
get a show out of it too. There'll be a ticket and a backstage pass waiting
for you at will call," he said pulling a few crumpled up papers out of his
back pocket. "Do you have a pen?"
"Yes," I said grabbing one from a nearby table.
"Here's my cell phone number in case anything goes wrong," he said
handing me one of the pieces of paper with his number scribbled on it in
red ink. "I'll have a car pick you up at six thirty in front of the hotel."
"That's okay I can drive," I said, quickly pocketing the
number. That was definitely one thing I knew I never wanted to misplace.
"You don't know the city that well and if you get lost and miss the
show I'll be heartbroken."
"Heartbroken?"
"Well I'll be sad at least."
"We can't have that."
"So you'll take the car?"
"Yes I promise."
He glanced at his watch, "See you tonight. After the show come
backstage."
I nodded, "Good luck."
*~*~*
Alright, so I've never really been a fan of art gallery shows but
once Joshua left it was even more unbearable. As soon as we had sold out,
about thirty minutes before schedule, I shot out of there before Ricky
could even finish asking me if I wanted to go have a drink with him.
As much as I didn't want to admit it to myself I missed Joshua. We
hadn't spent that much time together yet, but I definitely was getting
attached to him; something I didn't do very easily. He was just so
different then any of the guys I had ever been involved with. He made me
feel, well happy. It was such a simple thing, the simplest feeling in the
world most likely but the most important for me, especially at that time in
my life.
Six thirty just couldn't come soon enough for me. I even actually
contemplated driving around to find a record store so I could buy his
album, just to prepare myself for things to come. I was pretty sure I had
heard his genre of music once or twice before, after all it was hard to
hide entirely from pop culture no matter how hard you tried. I knew it
wasn't exactly my cup of tea but I was hoping that knowing the beautiful
man behind the music might help my chances of enjoying it.
I sat around my hotel room, practically twiddling my thumbs when
the phone rang. Before I even picked it up I knew who it was and wasted no
time with mundane greetings.
"I think I met someone," I said immediately into the
receiver. "Well I don't think I did. I guess I really have."
"You're joking," Ahnna said almost as excited as I was.
"I'm really not, love."
"Who is he!?! Tell me everything."
"He's a singer of sorts," I said turning over on my back and
leaning my head over the side of the bed. I really did feel just like a
school boy with an extreme crush, so I figured why not look like one too?
"What do you mean by of sorts?"
"You know less about pop music then I do but he was in some band, I
can't remember the name off hand, but now he's going solo. He even invited
me to his performance tonight."
"How did you meet him?"
"Here, at the hotel."
"And you wanted to stay at Motel 6," she laughed,
"I did not want any such thing. Let's not get into that again,
though."
"So what is this dream boy's name?"
"Joshua," I said letting the magical sound roll off my tongue and
hang in the air for a few moments before I spoke again. "If I'm thinking
extremely logically, which you know I hate to do, I don't really know him
that well, thus this may just all be me letting my mind run rapid once
again."
"Yes or itcould be love. Who knows?"
"You're never this optimistic. What's going on?"
"Nothing," she said obviously lying. She was never very good at
it. Come to think of it she still isn't.
"Love, you know you're going to tell me eventually so we might as
well just cut through all of the dramatics and get down to it."
"Michael has been asking about you."
Isn't it strange how the same six little words you've been dreaming
about being uttered to you make you want to vomit when they actually come
to pass?
"Josiah I know you didn't want to hear that but I had to tell you."
"I know," I said sitting up slowly. "What did he say?"
She sighed, "He just wanted to know how you were doing."
"If he would call me himself maybe he would know."
"That's pretty much what I told him."
"Where did you see him?"
"At Madrid's he was with some kid."
"Why would he go there? He knows we go there all the time."
"Don't let this ruin your time okay?"
"I won't."
"Unfortunately he will still be here when you get back so try not
to think about him too much. Have fun."
"I will. I'm not even worried about him anymore. It took me a long
time to get over him and I'm not going to go there again."
"Okay," she said, her voice being drowned out by a series of
beeps. "I have to get back to work. Be careful okay?"
"I will. I love you and I'll be home soon."
"Love you too."
With that we hung up, just as quickly as we had begun talking.
Ahnna wasn't stupid and she knew me way to well to believe that I
was over him. I had been trying to lie to myself more then her but it
wasn't working either way. Of all the things, or rather people, to ruin a
night Michael was definitely the best at it; apparently even from 3,000
miles away.
**Sorry about the super late update. I promise the next one will be coming
a lot sooner. Send any comments or criticisms to Shannon S
<bluewritergrl@yahoo.com> they are much needed and appreciated. **