Well, I couldn't stop myself from posting this new chapter before finishing TACC. SORRY! Lmao.

Anyway - thank you all for the amazing reviews! You guys have no idea how happy I was to see you actually enjoyed the story. But I can't help but still feel insecure. That was only the first chapter, and a mere glimpse of what the story really is. This chapter gives a better idea of where it is going, so I guess now I should really worry about the reviews, hahahah.

I really, really hope you still enjoy it. I understand it might be a little slow, but, well... It is what it is.

By the way, I don't know a lottt of British slangs and idiomatic expressions, so to make it as real as I can, I throw a few here and there, but that's as far as I'm willing to go... I think. Especially because the readers are from all around, and I assume we're all more familiar with American slangs. Also, I might make weird ass references while writing and not notice until I proof read the chapter. So if you guys feel like I'm going a bit too far with them, let me know and I'll build some sort of lexicon at the end of every chapter. You'll see what I mean at the end of this one.

So... Yeah. I think I'm done. Thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting and following! I really appreciate it. TACC's gran finale - or not - is coming soon.

Enjoy!


Chapter 2

When Selena woke up the next morning, her eyes wandered around the ceiling of her studio-apartment before she lazily dragged her gaze down the brick walls covered by her own paintings. It reminded her she needed to do something about that. There was no more room on her walls, and there were over a dozen piles of painted canvas of all sizes laying around her floor, as well as blank, unused ones just waiting for her next inspirational epiphany. It was a monumental mess. Not to mention the amount of paint cans, bottles, tubes, brushes... She sighed, thinking she wouldn't even know where to begin.

Then her eyes found the back of a naked silhouette standing in front of one of the covered walls. Demi's body was motionless while she stared at the part where Selena hanged some of the pictures she painted while still in school, back in Leeds. Those were very special ones. They clearly showed her evolvement as a painter if ever put side to side with the ones she had done back home. Those ones - the ones Demi was quietly staring at - had the same essence as the ones from when Selena was merely a teenager. They still captured her every emotion, but were by far more technical. The improvement was evident for anyone to see. And Selena was proud of that. She loved knowing there is always more room for improvement. Even though she has already graduated, not one day goes by when Selena doesn't find out new possibilities to express herself using nothing more than an empty canvas, a paint brush, vivid colors and her soul.

"Buongiorno..." She greeted the naked girl from the bed.

"Buongiorno, Modigliani." Selena heard a hint of a smile in Demi's voice, but she wasn't sure since the girl never turned around to look at her. "You're a talented one, dear."

Demi had been looking at the hundred paintings that covered the red brick walls up to the ceiling for almost an hour. She had no intention of staying there for so long. Although the night had been surprisingly amazing and Demi congratulated herself on choosing the newbie painter out of all people in the gallery last night, she never stayed long enough to eat breakfast. She hardly ever spent the night with her conquests. But their night had extended itself for hours into the dawn, and they only fell asleep just a few moments before the first ray of sunlight crossed the London sky. By the time Demi realized that, she was phisycally exhausted. Besides, falling asleep against Selena's warm skin sounded way more appealing than having to drive for twenty minutes back to her parents' house. When Demi woke up a little after one in the afternoon, all she intended to do was take a quick shower and leave, preferably before the girl who had made her see stars inside her mind woke up. But then... Then those paintings caught her very demanding art history graduate eyes, and she was speechless.

Not in a million years she would have thought Selena was this talented. And so versatile. She wasn't a landscape or portrait painter. She was that altogether and more. Her traces were so very contemporary, yet filled with all the finest Italian classic and vintage touches. The one that caught her attention the most was a gray toned picture of the profile of a very well dressed man standing at what seemed like a concrete pavement looking down. By his feet, a quiet, large river. The left hand, the one Demi couldn't see, appeared to be inside his pocket. The right one was the focus of the man's gaze, although it wasn't detailed because of the dark shadows from the mixture of black and gray tones. It held something Demi couldn't distinguish. And it made her restless, because she knew that was what it all came down to. The object resting in his palm facing upward. She praised Selena for achieving that. It intrigued anyone who ever came across that painting. The man was obviously struggling alone at night, in a deserted zone of the city, and the reason for his angst being the one small sized object he held. Over the river and to the man's left, behind his figure, a bridge adorned by arcs underneath it. Demi knew that bridge. She had been there, at the same place the man was.

"Grazie, bella." Selena smiled and sat up on the bed not minding her nudity. "Are you hungry at all?"

"...No." Demi's reply came seconds later, when she finally teared her eyes away from the painting she had been staring at for the past ten minutes to look at the tanned beauty tangled in the black silk sheets. Her eyes involuntarily fell from Selena's face to her perfectly sculpted breasts, ones Demi remembered being mesmerized by last night as soon as she ripped off the italian's dark blue laced bra. "What is he holding?" She asked distractedly glancing over her shoulder at the painting. The young painter had a puzzled expression. "On the black and white painting. The man by the river. What is he holding?"

Selena smiled knowingly. "Sur la Seine." She mumbled out before leaving the bed and slowly making her way to stand behind the body of the slightly shorter girl, who was back to staring at the picture before her. "I took a trip to Paris a couple of years ago by myself. I was walking around the city with my camera in hand, it was my last night... I started off at the Bastille, where I was staying, with no specific destination. It was passed two in the morning and there was no one around. I felt like the only soul alive in Paris. Until I noticed a man standing near the feet of the Pont-Neuf." Selena's mind started to wander back to that windy night, when she thought all French people and tourists had been kind enough to let her admire la Ville-Lumière in her own pace, with her own eyes, hearing the sounds and making them out to be whatever she wanted. "He looked so sad, yet comfortable. He was so au fait standing there by himself staring down at his reflex in the turbid water that it seemed to me like he had done it a thousand times before. I silently got closer to him, making an effort not to disturb his blatant trance. Like you, I couldn't make out what he was holding in his right hand because it was so tiny. So for a little while, I thought of the amount of things he could be holding, and also thought it could be nothing at all. But I was so curious I took my camera and zoomed in his hand. It was still a little hard to define what it was until a sudden light reflected on it and I saw it was a ring. Like a simple wedding ring. No fancy stones, just a regular ring. I zoomed out and snapped a few shots before I kept walking."

Demi, who was picturing herself hiding behind a bush next to a crouched Selena and her camera, felt a sudden thud at the young Italian's last words that instantly brought her back to the spacious studio where they had spent the night.

"...And?" She asked looking at Selena with expectant eyes.

"And what? I left."

"Didn't you see what he did with the ring? If he threw it in the Seine? Put it back on his finger? Hid it in the pocket inside his jacket?"

Selena briefly moved her shoulders up and down. "No. What fun is there if I know the end to it?"

"What? That's total pants! Why wouldn't you want to know?"

"Because then that would be it. What would make the painting so interesting if I knew what he had done? I would probably not have painted it at all." Demi kept looking at her like Selena was out of her mind. "Not knowing makes my mind wander as to where I can take this picture. There's a reason why you can't tell what he's holding. When I was trying to figure that out that night before zooming in it with the camera, my mind went to far too many places. I put my own personal problems in that man's hands while trying to read him. I put all of my tribulations in his hands. That's what I want people to feel when they see it. I want them to disconnect from the world and think of the infinite possibilities and chances that man's hand is holding. And what he could do with it. But that night when I saw him, before I could linger too long trying to find my own solutions, or even guess what I would do if I was in his position - wether I would throw them in the river and never look back; if I'd keep it in my hands to face them and go after an answer; or if I'd place in my inside pocket and pretend it didn't exist -, I took a few photos and left. I didn't want to share that moment with him. It was his moments. He was there to face his own tribulations and I had nothing to do with it. I left the hostel room I was staying in to see the city, not to deeply angst in my own demons. I have the rest of my life to do that."

Demi blinked at the raven haired girl standing in front of her in all her nude glory.

"You're barmy!"

Selena laughed. "I'm going to take a quick shower and cook us something."

As the Italian turned around to walk to the bathroom, Demi gasped at the few long scratches in her back as a result from when Selena was on top of her body, grinding together what felt like every inch of their cores, making both of them scream in pure physical ecstasy. "Don't. I have to leave." Demi cleared throat after noticing the obscene memories had affected far more than her hippocampus. "It's late already."

Selena walked back to the pale skinned girl, taking her by the hand and walking her to the bathroom. "Is it, though?" She stepped behind the girl and extended an arm to make the shower run. "It's Sunday. I'm sure you have time for brunch." Her left hand moved the black hair from the delicate neck, where her lips slowly landed.

Demi let a very low moan escape her lips when she felt a hand squeeze her right breast ever so softly.

She definitely wasn't going to stay around for brunch, that would be too much. But one always has time for a quickie, especially in the shower.


A few hours later, just as Selena stepped out of the Tottenham Court Road tube station, her phone vibrated inside the left pocket of her brown leather aviator jacket. A merry finding from the bi-monthly antiques fair in Lincoln. She had gone there countless times while living in Leeds, but when Layla moved out of their shared flat and Selena had to move into the studio, she decided her furniture, as little as it would be, had to match the feeling of the mid-1960's building. So Jennifer and her, along with David, Keith's son, quickly jumped into Selena's boss' impeccably preserved 1941 Dodge WC Series navy blue pickup and drove three hours to Lincoln to buy her furniture and everything else she would need. At one of the stands, an old lady with a heavy American accent took out the jacket from a worn out suitcase just as the trio walked by. Selena's mind instantaneously went back to when she was 12 years old watching Top Gun for the first time with her cousins at one of her relatives' house in San Gimignano, just an hour away from Florence, while the rest of the family was gathered in the backyard after a Sunday lunch. She was obsessed with the aviator sunglasses and leather jacket. The sunglasses she bought when she was 15. The jacket, however, took her years, until she bumped into that old American lady at the Lincolnshire showground. Selena didn't hesitate and payed the £97 the lady was asking for the jacket. It had patches and all! She had been told by the old woman that her late husband was a US Naval Aviator Lieutenant himself, just like Maverick. "Why are you selling a legitimate US Naval aviator jacket?" Selena asked in utter shock. "I recently found out he had a 22 year long affair with the sister of one of his wingmen. That's half the time we were married! I'm selling everything that bastard ever owned."

Selena smirked at the memory fishing the brand new iPhone 4 from her pocket noticing there was an e-mail notification. If she hadn't gotten the phone as a gift from Keith, she would probably still have her beat up Blackberry Curve and not give a shit about it. Mobile phones were something Selena definitely didn't find worthy of a lot of money. Keith had to threaten firing her from her bartender job at the pub if she didn't accept the one he was giving her.

The young painter kept walking down the St. Giles High Street before opening the Gmail app and seeing the e-mail was from one of her favorite professors from Leeds, Mr. Erwin McLean. She saw the pub she was supposed to meet Jennifer at and decided she'd read the e-mail later.

She got inside and took a look around scanning the room in search of her red haired friend. The dimmed, heated lights and the loud Black Sabbath music made it harder for her to concentrate in her task. But just as she freed her right arm from the right sleeve of the jacket, her friend waved at her from a table at the corner of the bar.

"Hiya!" Jennifer smiled when Selena sat down across from her. "You're late."

"I know. I'm sorry. I was working."

Jennifer waved at the waiter asking for another Kronenbourg before looking back at her friend.

"Why? I thought you didn't work on Sundays?"

"Since last week I do. Now my days off are Mondays, when the pub isn't as crowded. I need to save some money, and working on Sundays I get more tips."

"But I thought you were with that gormy Torres girl? And why aren't you working right now? It's barely nine."

"It's slow at the pub tonight so Keith let me go. Dave is covering for me."

"And about the nasty twat?"

"Stop being aggressive." Selena looked up at the waiter and smiled when he placed the pint in front of her. "What do you want to know?"

"How was it? You bonked her, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did." Jennifer raised her eyebrows expecting the Italian to spill the details. "It was the dog's bollocks, like you British people say."

"So she's good?"

"She's far more than good, Jen. A bag of girls I've been with could learn a thing or two from Demi."

"Well, that's no surprise. The girl has been shagged by more than half of Europe's population - men and women."

"Don't be insensitive. I'm sure you're exaggerating. She is very experienced, but you just hate her for no reason."

"Oh, dear, I don't hate her. I dislike twats in general, nothing personal." Jen let out a fake grin before taking a sip of her beer. "So? Are you going to see her again?"

Selena shrugged. "I don't think so." Her redhead friend frowned looking at her with questioning eyes. "We took a shower when we woke up and after she got dressed she said she had to leave. I asked her if I could have her number and she just smiled and said no."

"She said no?"

Selena nodded. "She said if we ever bump into one another ever again, she'd be more than happy to go back to my bed, but only under those circumstances." Jennifer scoffed feeling outraged, which made Selena chuckle. "She said she doesn't go out with girls when she's in the UK because it's too risky."

"Bullcrap! Everyone knows she shags girls!"

"I assume her parents don't, that's why it's risky. Not for the people. She didn't seem to be very worried about our everlasting flirting at the gallery before we left."

"She's a filthy liar. She won't go out with you because you're a nobody."

"Thank you."

"You know what I mean, Lena. You're an unknown foreign painter who works at a pub. She'd never want to be seen with you."

"I'm easy. I only wanted to be polite, honestly. I hate dates, they're terribly dull. All I wanted was an excuse to bang her again."

"I hope you enjoyed yourself last night because that was a one off." Selena shrugged and took a long gulp of her beer before putting the pint down and smirk in a devious way. "What?"

The brunette cleared her throat and leaned closer to her friend, who did the same. "She left me her panties."

"What?!"

Selena laughed. "After we took a shower she put on her her clothes and left her panties on the floor, where they had been since last night. When I asked her about it she smiled, took them from the floor and placed them in my hand saying I could keep them since she had just taken a shower and she would feel filthy to be wearing them again."

"Oh, and leaving you her used underwear isn't filthy? Bleeding hell, Lena." Jen widened her eyes. "I bet they're Jean Paul Gaultier or some random expensive designer."

"They're Guia La Bruna."

"Those are even more expensive. Why don't you sell it on the Internet instead of working for tips?"

Selena smiled. "I'd rather keep them."

"That's disgusting."

"It's not. It's a significant souvenir of a memorable night."

"I bet the night was as disgusting as the souvenir."

"Are you saying that just because I can still taste Demi Torres in my beer or out of pure assumption?"

"I'm regurgitating on the inside."

"Yuck."

"You're nasty."


Meanwhile, all the way across the city, Demi was enjoying dinner at the Suksan in Chelsea. She was never one to be into Thai food, but it was a birthday celebration of one of her and Alyson's good friend from the only-girl Queenswood School. Demi had slept throughout most of the day coming back from that dirt bucket end Selena lived in, so she nearly made it on time for the celebration. Fortunately, Alyson had called her two hours ago asking if she would want her to bring any of the goodies recently brought from Colombia by their Irish dealer that used his posh sailor alter ego as a cover up to bring all kinds of numbing substances from across the ocean. "Bring them where?" Asked a sleepy, clueless Demi to her best friend. After Alyson's answer, she barely had an hour to get ready and be at the Thai restaurant located a couple of minutes away from her former apartment and a little further from her parents' house.

"I'm going out for a cigarette, girls." Demi announced with a smile. "Aly, mind keeping me company?"

Alyson nodded and reached for her own cigarette box inside her purse before walking outside with Demi. They walked a little to the side of the restaurant instead of standing in the front like the rest of the smokers.

"Sometimes I feel like you can read my mind. Your timing was on point." Alyson giggled fishing a very thin and perfectly rolled joint out of the metal case. "Coco puffs or regular baccy solid spliff?"

Demi sighed, weighing her options. She knew she was going straight home after that dinner since the girls were apparently in no mood to extend the night at a bar like she was, so the coco puffs' - the way Demi and her friends called joints with a mix of hashish and freebased cocaine - high would go to waste. On the other hand, she was really in the mood for something a little stronger than a spliff with tobacco and hashish. But if her night was going to resume itself at a pricey Thai restaurant in Chelsea, the latter was probably the best option. Unless... "Would you go out on a bender with me after we're done here?"

Alyson raised her big hazel eyes at her friend. She didn't have to do anything in the morning, unlike the rest of their friends inside the restaurant who already had jobs and busy lives, but she knew Demi was supposed to go job hunting. "Shouldn't you start looking for a job?"

Demi rolled her eyes. "Yes. But what difference will it make if I start tomorrow or the day after? I'm broke anyway. Watcha say?"

"Fine. Coco puffs, then, yeah?"

"Please." Demi smiled handing her personalized Clipper lighter to her friend.

"How can you be wanting to piss up tonight if you're broke?" Alyson questioned while holding the smoke inside her lungs.

"What better way to forget my problems than getting pissed with my best friend and cheap beer at disgusting pubs?"

Alyson laughed and shook her head. "You need money, darling. Urgently. You know you won't last too long living with that ridiculous allowance or a regular salary." Alyson took another hit before handing the rolled up cigarette to Demi.

"I know. I have to think of something. I can't maintain myself with so little money. All I wanted was a job where I didn't necessarily have to do much and yet make bags of money."

"You're an art history graduate, Demi."

"...And?"

"And your father knows a fair amount of the biggest art dealers and gallery owners in Europe, especially in the UK. You could try to get a job as an intern or assistant with one of them. I'm sure they wouldn't deny your father's request."

Demi took a drag, closing her eyes in the process and enjoying the hot smoke incinerating her lungs. "He said he's not going to help me, Alyson."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning I would have to either find a way to contact those people or find an undiscovered amazingly talented new artist to represent. Which is impossible since every good talent in London is already booked." She blew out the smoke and passed the joint back to her friend.

"...What about that girl you banged last night?" Alyson asked after a few seconds and a long drag. "Is she booked?"

Demi furrowed her eyebrows, entering a deep thinking mode.

Selena was amazingly talented. And as far as Demi knew, she had yet to find a dealer for her work.

"She's very, very good, actually..." The brunette said while her mind was still in full speed already listing the galleries around Europe whose owners interests matched Selena's peculiar style.

"Why don't you make her an offer?"

"Aly... It would probably take too long for Selena's work to be worth a pound. She's too young, completely unknown."

"She knows Flor Campana. And so do you. I'm sure Flor would be willing to support a new artist, especially being one of Keith Lowell's protégés, and a new dealer, daughter of Eddie Torres."

Demi took the third of what was left of the blunt and took a deep drag. "That would be a start, I guess..."

"Yeah, it would."

"But I don't want to date her."

Alyson chuckled. The mixed substances already starting to kick in, making her surroundings and her thoughts slow down in pace. The wind feeling oddly colder all of a sudden. "Is she that bad of a shag?"

"Au contraire, honey. She's incredible, mind numbing. Each time she whispered italian words and sentences in my ear I went insane."

"Even better! You will make money, build a career, show your father what you can do and have amazing sex when you're off commercial time."

"Can I kill it?" Demi asked showing her smiley friend the last bit of the spliff. Alyson nodded and waved her hand, at which Demi placed it back in between her lips taking yet another long drag before throwing it to the ground before the ember could completely extinguish. "Selena is a big talent and an amazing fuck, but it would still take too long. I am penniless now, Alyson. She would have to be Rembrandt good for me to start making money in a short period of time."

Alyson let out a breath starting to get annoyed to be wasting her high with such pointless topic, all because her friend was too stubborn and spoiled to go after a real job like any normal person would under her circumstances. "It's your best option. If you still don't want that, then bunk up with Donovan in his boat and sail back and forth twice every month with a shitload of drugs risking to get arrested by the Interpol."

"Don't be stupid."

"You're being stupid. That girl Selena is your best option, Demi. Work with her until you find something better. She's an amateur, you don't have to sign a contract. Think of it as something temporary until you can get your life back on track."

"You're right. I'm acting like an idiot."

"Ring her tomorrow and tell her about your offer."

"I don't have her number."

Alyson took a deep breath and shook her head.

"You know where she works and where she lives. Maybe you will have to pay her a visit some time this week. Come on. Let's get inside. I want to get poorly plastered tonight."


When Selena finally layed down in her bed later that night, she thought of Demi. They hadn't talked much after leaving the gallery, so Selena still knew nearly nothing about the girl other than what Jennifer had told her. Selena's judgment of character was never very reliable. She always thought and expected the best from people, that's what she had been taught growing up. And sometimes Selena regretted it. For being so naïve most of her life, the young italian had been let down countless times. Although she matured considerably after moving to a different country, having to do everything by herself and dealing with strangers, Selena still used Seneca's homo, sacra res homini¹ as a life motto in opposition to the common homo homini lupus², that seemed to be the entire world's motto. She found balance. But she was still torn as to what to think about Demi Torres, who definitely didn't fit into the kind-by-heart category, but Selena couldn't make out if she was the opposite extreme quite yet like Jennifer made her and her wealthy friends out to be.

Shaking off those wandering thoughts from her mind, Selena reached for her phone on the shelf above her bed, remembering she had yet to read the e-mail Professor McLean had sent her.

"Dear Selena,

how have you been doing? Better than the last time we spoke, I hope.

I have been meaning to contact you for a few weeks now, but the book tour and the classes schedules this semester have made my life an utter chaos, making it rather difficult to even write a simple e-mail. I appologize for that.

However, I'm glad to say I have been granted a fortnights holiday, since the classes are off with Professor Longchamps for their traditional field trip, and my publisher agreed to put the tour on hold so I can properly enjoy my days off and rest. I will be in London for three nights, arriving next Tuesday and was hoping we would have a chance to chat. I have an amazing opportunity for you. I spoke to one of my dear friends, Lola Anthibes, whose granddaughter owns a small gallery in Bethnal Green. Ashley Anthibes, Lola's granddaughter and the galley owner, agreed to put together a small vernissage for you after I showed her your portfolio. We would have to meet her while I'm in the city so you two can agree on the details, although I took the liberty to discuss a few of them in advance. But I would rather tell you about them in person.

Hopefully you are as excited as I am. I'm looking forward to seeing some of your new work as well. I presume there are a lot, considering it has been over four months since we last met.

I will contact you as soon as I get to London. The train arrives around noon, I will be staying in my apartment in Notting Hill.

I will see you soon.

Cordially,

Erwin M."

Selena felt her cheeks hurt from the huge smile playing on her lips all the while she had been reading her former Professor's e-mail. If it wasn't past midnight and she didn't have to wake up early the next morning, she would most likely head to the Lowell's residence just a few streets away from her studio and celebrate with her boss and his 18 year old son.

Finally. Her first exhibition. And at one of Bethnal Green's charming galleries.

Selena let out a long, heartfelt sigh. It was all happening. Everything she longed for since an early age when painting Coco, her long gone German Shepard, while he inconciously posed for her every morning when he layed down in the front yard enjoying a sunbath.

Making a mental note to google Ashley Anthibes' gallery before she left for work the next day, Selena fell asleep with a shadow of that big smile that had not yet left her lips.


¹"Man is something sacrade for man". Seneca: Moral Epistles to Lucilius, letter 95, line 33.
²"Man is a wolf to man". Plautus: Asinaria.