A/N: This is the chapter that I've wanted to get out for SO LONG, and now that it's here, I hope you guys will like it.

(Again, unedited).

Chapter 18: The Deed is Done

Maya was on the phone with Leigh when she stepped out of Topanga's. She paced back and forth in front of the establishment as she listened intently to Leigh's progress report regarding the benefit concert.

"So, how many bands have we secured so far?" Maya queried.

"Out of the ten I've asked? Four," Leigh answered with a dispirited sigh.

"What about The Monochrome Blond? I thought you said their manager wrote back to you?"

"He did, but because the band will be releasing their debut album sometime around January, he's not sure if he can finalize this gig. The band's got tons of radio shows lined up nationally and promo tours worldwide," Leigh informed. The clicking sound of the keyboard could be heard from her end of the line.

"What if we replace those bands that haven't written back yet with different acts? Like, a stand-up comedian or a magician. People would love that!" Maya suggested.

"That's actually not a terrible idea, but then again, I wanted a benefit concert," Leigh noted. Sighing, she added, "How about you? You haven't gotten back to me about which band you'd like to see play."

Maya bit her lip. "Yeah, about that. I was going for a well-known band, but considering our current situation with the lineup, I might have to rethink my decision. I have friends that go to pubs where they feature some cover bands, and I'm thinking about looking into them."

"At this point, cover bands would have to do," Leigh responded.

"We can ask them if they're willing to take song requests from the audience," Maya suggested. "That'll create some sort of bonding relationship between the audience and the band. Makes it more intimate, don't you think?"

Leigh gasped. "Oh, my goodness, you are right! We could so do that!"

After discussing the rest of what Leigh had in her agenda, Maya and Leigh bid goodbye to each other and ended their phone call meeting.

Tucking her phone back in her purse, Maya raised an arm to flag an oncoming taxi. But just as the taxi rolled to a stop by the curb, Maya heard someone calling her name. She swiveled to find Josh running toward her.

"Hey, what's up?" Maya questioned as she took in Josh's work clothes. His tie hung loose around in his neck, and his canvas messenger bag was slung across his body.

"I made some progress on the poem," Josh informed, breathing laboriously. "I was hoping you could proofread it."

Maya chanced a quick glance at the taxi driver before she returned her attention to Josh. "I was actually on my way to my studio, but if you don't mind working there, you can come with me," she offered.

Josh nodded. "Yeah, that works fine," he answered. He then gestured at the open passenger door of the taxi and added, "After you."

Maya loaded the taxi and Josh followed after her, shutting the passenger door behind him. After informing the driver of their destination, the taxi rolled away from the curb and onto the bustling streets of New York City they went.

Maya opened the door to her studio and trotted inside, dropping her bag on the lone sofa she had in the room. She turned at the sound of the door closing and caught Josh taking in the entirety of her studio. He examined the numerous paintings she'd hung on the wall—her favorites, which included the five pieces she did for the Atford Gallery's winter art exhibition—as well as the unfinished projects she'd left lying on the floor.

"I'm sorry about the mess," Maya apologized as she stripped off her winter coat. She hung it on the backrest of the sofa. "I wasn't really in my happiest mood the last time I was here."

Josh shook his head. "No worries. It's an art studio, it's supposed to be messy," he responded before he set down his messenger bag next to Maya's and toured the rest of her studio.

Maya watched as Josh stalked toward the left wing of the studio, where she had a huge splash mat laid out on the floor. There were also several paint trays and rollers cluttering the floor, and buckets of paint in different colors lining the edge of the splash mat. Lastly, looking straight ahead on the left wing wall was an unfinished mural.

"I've been working on that wall for over two years now," Maya informed when she noticed Josh inspecting the mural. She made her way to where he stood and parked herself next to him. "It's one of my on and off projects. Perhaps one day I'll actually get it done, but . . . we'll just leave that as how it is for now."

Josh nodded as his eyes kept examining the wall. "What's it supposed to be?" he questioned.

"Honestly? When I started working on this mural, I intended for it to be a depiction of my brain. It's supposed to showcase my memories, my ambitions, my dreams, my inspirations . . . 'The Safe Haven,' as I meant to call it. I bought this studio after I first sold one of my artworks, and this place was meant to solidify my dream of becoming an artist. I started that mural because I wanted it to commemorate that moment someone understood enough what was going on in my head that they felt the need to buy my piece and keep it with them forever.

"But as time went on, I began to realize that it's constantly changing up here." Maya tapped her index finger on her temple. "The man who bought my piece back then might've understood me, but can he still now? That's why I'm probably never going to finish this mural because nothing in life stays the same."

Josh only hummed in response. He took one last look at the unfinished mural before he crossed over to the right wing of Maya's art studio, where she placed her large drafting table and her small leather sofa. The right side wasn't as cluttered as the left, yet there were still some crumpled paper that could be found on the hardwood floor.

"You're a fully equipped artist," Josh noted with a smile as he ran a hand along the edge of the drafting table. "You've got everything you need around here."

Maya shrugged nonchalantly. "I mean, I could use some new paintbrushes . . ."

Josh gestured at a bookcase filled with tin buckets upon tin buckets of unused paintbrushes. "Something tells me you've already got enough to last you a lifetime," he teased.

"I wouldn't say a lifetime. Those brushes would probably last me—oh, I don't know—a year at most?" Maya responded with a chuckle. "Although, I am in need of some new acrylics. I've been needing them for weeks now, but I just don't have the time and energy to run that errand."

"Work keeping you busy?" Josh queried.

Maya put on her dirty smock before she rolled her utility cart next to her wooden stool and easel. "Yeah, Leigh's stressing because we only have about a month before the benefit concert, and we haven't secured our lineup yet nor have we started advertising the event. I have to help her find at least six cover bands that would be willing to fill up those empty slots." She paused for a moment as she uncapped the tube of purple paint and squeezed some onto her palette. "And, of course, I've got you and your marriage proposal case."

"I thought you're the Creative Art Director?" Josh questioned.

Maya nodded as she added a blob of white onto her purple paint and mixed them with her paintbrush, creating a lavender shade. "I still am, but Leigh's officially declared me as her temporary right hand. Sure, she's got a committee behind her, but they've got their own duties to tend to. The benefit concert's a huge event after all," she answered.

"Planning something that big sure ain't a walk in the park," Josh agreed. He strode over to the studio's massive window and fiddled with the speaker dock placed on the sill. Gesturing at the device, he turned to Maya and asked, "May I?"

"Go ahead. I could use some tunes anyway," Maya responded as she dipped her paintbrush on the lavender paint and began dabbing on the canvas, highlighting a woman's blouse on the painting.

Josh turned on the speaker dock and plugged in his phone. He scrolled through his music library, and after making sure that the volume's turned high, he clicked on his chosen song. As the song opened with a lively drum beat followed by the guitars and the tambourine, Josh grinned and bobbed his head to the beat.

Maya couldn't help but laugh when she caught sight of Josh dancing by the window. He moved freely at first, but as soon as he noticed her watching him, he began dancing choreographically as though he belonged in a jazz joint back in the 1920s.

"What are you doing?" Maya asked in between fits of laughter.

"Come on! Swing dancing is better done with a partner," Josh encouraged.

Still laughing, Maya waved him off as she turned back to her painting. "Oh, no. I don't actually have the best feet for dancing, especially swing dancing."

"That's no excuse, anyone can dance!"

"I beg to differ."

When the song reached the slow tempo of the pre-chorus, Josh pulled the paintbrush from Maya's hand and set it down on her utility cart. He hauled her up to her feet, just in time for the song to pick up a fast tempo. Josh executed a flawless Swinging Charleston while Maya attempted to mimic his movements from beside him.

"I'm starting to think you were born in the wrong decade," Maya commented as the song progressed into the second verse. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

"My mother loved theatre when I was growing up, and I guess it just rubbed on me," Josh elucidated. "I participated in every single play back in high school, which further encouraged my love for the 1920s. I've even gotten to that point in my life when being a Broadway star became my ultimate goal in life, then something happened and being a journalist became more appealing."

The song continued its fast tempo, and Josh led Maya into a Swinging Charleston once again. He stepped his right foot straight behind him and swung his left arm forward, alternating sides in one seamless and repetitive motion.

Maya imitated his movements. She teetered on her two left feet in the beginning, but as her body became accustomed to the swinging of her arms and the shifting of her weight from one foot to another, she began bopping coordinately to the music as well as with Josh.

Once the instrumental part of the song began, now with the accompaniment of the piano and the harmonica, Josh and Maya danced around the studio, smiling and laughing in the presence of one another. They eventually stopped dancing the Swinging Charleston and went to reach for each other's hands. With their fingers interlocked, Josh and Maya stepped away from one another before they pulled back, their arms outstretched on both sides with Maya's chin hovering over Josh's left shoulder. They stepped away once again, then pulled back. This time, Maya's chin fell on top of Josh's right shoulder. They executed the dance move with a quick pace, slowing only when the song's tempo changed once more.

"I knew you can dance," Josh commented with a smile.

"Probably not as good as you are—or Fred Astaire, for that matter," Maya retaliated, laughing.

The instrumental bridge of the song continued, and so did Josh and Maya's dancing. They ditched their choreographed swing dancing and opted for the modern dance moves instead. Josh attempted the running man move while Maya flung her arms around, dancing dangerously close to the bookcase. She hit one of the tin buckets of paintbrushes with her hand, sending its contents tumbling down to the floor.

When the crashing noises of the fallen tin bucket and paintbrushes permeated the studio, Josh and Maya glanced at one another with panicked expressions. It wasn't long, however, until Maya let out a snort, which prompted Josh's laughter. With the paintbrushes scattered on the floor, the two of them resumed dancing until the song reached its final note.

"Woo!" Josh cheered as his music player switched to the next song on the queue.

"Oh, God," Maya panted with a hand over her chest, feeling the heightened pulsing of her heart. "I think that covers my week's worth of exercise."

Josh laughed as he and Maya collapsed on the sofa a little roughly, causing for Maya's unzipped bag to spill its contents. Uttering a quick apology, he gathered her things and stowed them back inside, pausing when he grabbed ahold of her sketchpad.

"You can look through that if you want. It's not exactly top secret," Maya informed after she caught Josh lingering on the sketchpad.

"Are you sure I'm not gonna come across a ridiculous caricature of me?" Josh taunted.

Shaking her head with a smile, Maya patted Josh's knee and hauled herself up to her feet. "I'm not really one to draw or paint a person's facial features. I like to keep a sense of anonymity in my pieces . . . which reminds me, I have to get back to work."

As Maya began painting again, Josh flipped through the first few pages of Maya's sketchpad. In there he found a variety of sketches. Some of them were locations found within the state of New York. He recognized the scenic view of one of the hiking trails in Finger Lakes, as well as a rooftop view of the Manhattan skyline. Her sketches also include random individuals. There were couples, young and old, sat on a bench or perched on a booth in a restaurant, sharing a milkshake. All of them were faceless, which Maya had explained why earlier.

Josh flipped to a new page and saw a sketch of a faceless old man with one side of his head withering away. Where his facial features would have been were a series of memories sketched side by side, chronicling a love story. On the bottom of the page, Josh found the sketch's title: "Only the Good Shall Remain."

"Hey, Maya," Josh called as he turned the sketchpad so that it faced her. "Is this supposed to be Joel?"

Maya turned away from her painting and saw the sketch he was referring to. She nodded and said, "When I heard Joel's story about Annie, I felt inspired and realized that it had potential. I started sketching, and before I knew it, I'm transferring it onto a canvas. Don't worry, I'm not gonna sell this to anyone. Joel deserves this for himself."

"I'm sure he'll love it," Josh commented with a small smile.

When Maya went back to her painting, Josh turned another page and was stopped by what he found. There were two faceless figures yet again, but judging by the man's lightning bolt tattoo and the woman's tilted head, he knew exactly who they were. His brows furrowed, confused not as to why Maya drew them, but the reason behind why she chose that particular moment to sketch.

Maya happened to glimpse at Josh when she reached for a new tube of paint and knew immediately what it was that he saw in her sketchpad. Clearing her throat, she decided to avert his attention from it. She perceived it was better that she spoke first, thus not giving him a chance to ask her why she drew them.

"So, I've been wanting to ask," Maya began while she uncapped the tube of gray paint she grabbed from her utility cart. "You mentioned earlier that you wanted to be a Broadway star, but switched to being a journalist instead. What changed your mind?"

Josh swallowed hard and closed Maya's sketchpad, stowing it back inside her bag. "My mother was killed in a hit-and-run when I was fifteen," he revealed.

"Josh, I'm sorry. I had no idea . . ." Maya trailed off when she caught Josh shaking his head.

"My dad and I were told by the police that the car swerving off the road was no accident," Josh spoke. "My mom was a great person. She didn't have enemies, so my dad and I couldn't figure out why someone wanted to kill her. Further investigation were done, and we found out that, although she wasn't a specified target, a deranged syndicate wanted to send a threat to the police by causing havoc in the city. The hit-and-run was done on purpose, my mom's death wasn't. She just happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Her death was justified eventually, but that accident made me realize that I wanted to do something for those people like my mom—the victims. I concentrated my major on journalism in college, and after I graduated, I got my first job as an investigative journalist. I know that it might sound cowardly, but I only lasted on that job for three months. I've moved on now, but back then, I couldn't accept the fact that she was gone—that she was never coming back. It was only when I had that job that I realized I couldn't do it because every time I clock in for work, it reminded me of what happened to my mom."

Josh finished and heaved a long breath. He'd long gone moved on from his mother's death, and talking about it once in a while now felt like a relief for him. He still ached for her, but it wasn't as painful as how it used to be all those years ago, which made the topic much more bearable to discuss.

"Your tattoo," Maya stated after a moment of silence. "It was your mom who told you not to be afraid of lightning . . . right?"

Josh nodded in response, a forlorn expression on his face.

Maya set aside her paintbrush and took off her smock. She sauntered toward the sofa where Josh was and sat down next to him with a sigh. "I guess it's only proper that I tell you about my mom as well. You've been opening up to me about your family, and after hearing you do it again tonight, I realized that I haven't really let you in on anything about my personal life at all," she stated.

Josh didn't say anything in reply. He simply encouraged Maya to carry on with a nod and a small smile.

"My parents got divorced last January after my mom found out that my dad was having an affair," Maya declared. "She didn't want to know how long it had been going on because she wanted to save her marriage, like how those women did on those drama series she'd been watching. Unfortunately, my dad wasn't as willing to fix the marriage as she was, and he left her for his other woman. I knew my mom was putting on a brave face for me while her lawyer worked out the divorce, but when it was finalized, she lost it. In an attempt to lessen the pain the divorce caused her, she disallowed Tan House Events to accept any wedding events and, in time, she turned to drugs. She let herself go, until it became an addiction. Zay and I tried to talk her out of it, but she didn't listen to us, Josh. I knew that she was hurting—I was, too—but it felt like she didn't care about my feelings at all. And I hated her for it. If she preferred the help of drugs rather than her own daughter's help . . . I decided that I was better off without her."

Josh pursed his lips. "Where is she now?" he asked.

"Zay said she checked herself in at the rehab center. After doing so, she told Zay to convince me to take over Tan House Events while she's away. Managing her business wasn't what I wanted for myself, and yet here we are," Maya responded, followed by a heavy exhale.

Josh's eyebrows creased upon noting a fault within Maya's story. "If you say that your relationship with your mother is broken, why are you still working for Tan House Events? Why not break away from it and create a name for yourself in the art industry, like what you originally wanted to do?" he interrogated.

Maya wavered under Josh's gaze. "Someone has to keep the business running. She's worked so hard to get the company to where it is today, and I don't want to be the one that jeopardizes that," she answered in a low voice. "Besides, I'm still pursuing my dream. It's not like I've abandoned it."

Josh settled for Maya's answer, even though he wanted to refute her statement. Despite what she said regarding what she felt towards her mother, Josh sensed that there was at least a tiny piece of Maya's heart that her mother still occupied. It might be minuscule, but it was there. Perhaps Maya had yet to discover it.

"Anyway," Maya blurted out, cutting the silence that grew between them. "I just realized that we still haven't done that thing you came to see me for."

"What?" Josh queried. He blinked twice as though he just came out of a stupor.

"Your poem," Maya answered. "I thought you wanted me to proofread it?"

"Oh." Josh reached for his bag and took out his leather notebook. He opened it to the page where he used his pencil as a bookmark and passed it over to Maya's awaiting hands. "I'm not sure if they're any good though, so please don't expect a Hemingway."

"And what makes you think that I would, Josh?" Maya taunted, the corner of her lips twitched into a small smirk. "You didn't exactly set the bar high when I read your first draft."

"Hey—"

"I'm kidding!" Maya interjected. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood."

As Maya busied herself by proofreading Josh's poem, the latter kept his eyes trained on Maya with his brows furrowed in deep thought. He found it intriguing how much she contradicted herself when she told him the story of her mother. Despite her animosity, Maya agreed to temporarily claim her mother's CEO position at Tan House Events, which indicated that she wasn't as ready to break what was left of her relationship with her mother as she thought she was.

Underneath her words, Josh found a smidgen of what he sensed was hope. Maya accepted to work at Tan House Events after her mother checked herself in at the rehab center. She found out that her mother took action to better herself up, and perhaps Maya hoped that once her mother got better, she'd finally acknowledge her pain and start feeling like she had a mother to turn to once again.

It was at that moment Maya reached up to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind her ear that Josh realized something. This was exactly what he was looking for. Andrew was right when he said that it had been under his nose this entire time.

Josh pulled out his phone from his pocket and typed a message to Andrew. He figured his best friend deserved to be the first to know.

Josh — The deed is done.

Andrew — What deed?

Josh — My subject. I found it.

AND THERE YOU HAVE IT.

Song of the Chapter: Fred Astaire by San Cisco. This is the song Josh and Maya danced to.

Thanks for reading, and let me know what you think!