Page 70 of Serenity

“Well, you did. You’re acting just like my brothers,” I fussed, moving away from him and plopping down on a pillow.

“It doesn’t hurt to be resourceful. Everything ain’t gotta be all black and white, Bee.”

“When I need to be resourceful, I will. This is something I need to do for myself and by myself. I thought you understood that.”

“Aight, Queen Bee. Don’t sting me. I do understand. I just… Nevermind. Bring your ass back over here. You’re not the only one with trouble sleeping.”

He refused to allow an argument to prevail between us. It was the same thing in Italy. The sun wouldn’t set on our anger.

“You haven’t been sleeping either?” I asked, returning to my position across his chest.

Reaching up, my fingers combed through the salt and peppery patch of hair covering his chin.

“Hardly a fucking wink. If you didn’t bring your ass, I was soon heading your way,” he yawned.

“Go to sleep, baby. You sound and look exhausted.”

“You ain’t gotta tell me twice, Bee.”

At just over one hundred guests, the charity show hosted at Vivid for the Miller Center had come together wonderfully. Big steppers filled the venue. Men and women alike. Compiling the guest list had been strategic. Most of the potential donors held the capacity to write extensive checks, satisfying the need to hit our margins for the evening.

In addition to the auction, every piece of artwork that hung on the walls was available for sale. Just as with the auction, a portion of the proceeds would be donated to the Miller Center to assist in the expansion of programs available to the community.

Everything was going to plan.

VIVID

Affluent and luxuriant, Vivid teemed with the evidence of finesse. Art hung from the walls, and art chattered and prattled within the space. A collection of souls, all beautiful, combed through the venue. One particular composition left me speechless and awestruck.

Stunning, Serenity was a work of fucking art. It mattered not the locale we positioned ourselves in. She elevated the value of the environment with her beauty. Her confidence. Her aura. Her radiance. It was contagious.

From a distant corner, I watched her work the room. The numero uno. Guests approached her first before anyone else. She was a fucking wonder, and she knew when and how to step into a variety of roles when necessary.

Head honcho, top dog, boss lady, she wore that shit well. I let her get her shine on, undisturbed. Only once her crowd of admirers and friends died down did I approach.

“Queen Bee,” I grinned, pulling her into my arms and kissing her lips.

“Ahem—Hey, Duke.”

Dryly, she offered the greeting before supplying a foot of distance between us. Instantly, I sensed the discomfort claiming her energy. Near tangible and inescapable, it aggravated my mood.

“What’s wrong, baby?”

Her eyes scanned the room before returning to me.

“Nothing. It’s just been a busy day,” she lied, but I let it pass. I always knew when her ass was lying. It didn’t happen often, but my lie detector picked up on it. Nerves were rampant, and the gallery was packed. Settling on the crowded environment being the cause for her anxiety, I didn’t press the issue.

Small talk of our week carried us for most of the hour.

“Ahem. Good Lord,” she mumbled.

Again, I watched as Serenity’s body language shifted with the growing crowd inside the gallery.

“You good, Bee?”

“My brother is here, I think.”

“You think?”

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