Page 15 of Feel Free to Scream

This isn’t the obvious, in your face, I-make-six-figures-a-year that I’ve encountered in the past. This place whisperswealth. Every piece goes together. I get the feeling most of the interior has been there for decades, and yet, it still looks pristine. All because the right thing was purchased from the start.

The art on the walls is another indication that I’m most definitely no longer in Kansas, Toto. The brushstrokes and the colors make it clear they’re all genuine, and every piece is stunning. But also interesting. I find myself looking at a red and gold abstract on white canvas that seems to speak of violence, pain, and beauty all at once.

“That’s Markus’s,” someone says.

I steel myself, recognizing the deep, slow, low timbre, which makes no sense as we’ve spoken literally twice.

Plastering a smile on my face, I turn to face Darius Keller. “Oh?”

He gives me that smile again. The one that doesn’t reach his intense, probing blue eyes. “Yeah. If a piece looks like it could be about murder, it’s definitely Markus painting it. I wouldn’t touch it if I were you. I think he mixes blood in his paint.”

My eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

That strange smile morphs into real amusement. “Clearly, you haven’t heard about my cousin Markus yet if you think that.”

“He’s very talented. Is his last name Keller too? I definitely want to follow him.”

Somehow, Keller finds that less amusing. “It’s Goltz, actually. He’s my aunt’s son. But you won’t find any of his art on the internet. He doesn’t display.”

“Shame. This is really good,” I praise.

Keller shrugs. “It’ll be gone next week. He replaces them when the mood strikes, and chucks the old ones out.”

Now, I gape wordlessly. That’s just…such a waste, in every possible sense.

The paint alone must cost a fortune, and the canvas too. But all materials aside, he’s good. People would buy his art. Hell,Iwould buy his art, if I could afford it.

“Don’t let him throw this one away, please. If he’s really just sending them to the trash, do you think I could have it?”

Keller raises an eyebrow. “Really? It feels a little violent for you.”

Somehow, I know what he means. I look sweet. Iamsweet. “This piece doesn’t feel like me,” I admit, “but we don’t have to relate so something to love it.”

“Oh, hell no. That’s way too deep for Saturday night. You, my friend, need a drink. What’s your poison?”

I flush, embarrassed by the fact that I don’t actually have an answer. “I don’t know, I don’t drink much. Something sweet?”

“You’re in luck today. We have a bartender in the lounge. I’ll go get you something. How about you?” he says.

I suddenly remember I’m not alone. Lily has remained silent and out of sight, standing patiently next to me. I’m the one who stopped noticing her, first fascinated by the painting, and next, by him.

“Something sweet sounds great, thanks.” She offers her hand. “Lily.”

“I’ve seen you around a couple of times,” he tells her, shaking the offered hand for less than a second. “Be right back, ladies.”

Lily’s staring at me with a funny look in her eyes. I pretend to ignore her, but she doesn’t look away, so I have to cave. “What?”

“You have a thing for him.”

“Please.” I huff in annoyance. “I have a boyfriend.”

“Uh-huh. And I was literally standing there, waiting for you to introduce me, but you were too busy staring into the depths of his eyes like nothing else existed.”

Like an extremely mature eighteen-year-old grown-ass woman, I stick my tongue out at her.

She chuckles. “I don’t blame you. Man, he’s pretty. Everything and everyone here is pretty.”

I see exactly what she means. There’s literally not one unattractive person in the room. It’s eerie. There are people of varying size, shape, nationality, and gender, but what everyone seems to have in common is looking like they came out of aVoguephotoshoot.

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