Charlie lies in her bed, staring at the wall. She's not moved much all weekend.
There are no tears left.
She feels empty.
Her phone beeps. It's probably Bass again. She stopped counting after seventeen text messages and nineteen missed calls. Periodically she deletes both without reading or listening. She can't imagine anything he might say that could possibly fix this.
Her heart is broken.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Bass is beside himself. He can't sleep. He doesn't eat.
She won't answer her phone. He's not sure she's getting his texts. He thinks about just going to her apartment, but decides against it. She should be at work soon anyway. He'll talk to her as soon as she gets in.
He has to explain.
She has to understand.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Charlie dresses carefully in a black pantsuit and puts her hair in a bun. She applies makeup to hide the dark circles and tear stains before putting on her glasses. She holds her head high as she gets on the bus. She's a Matheson after all. She will get through this.
She disembarks in front of the museum and makes her way inside. She follows the familiar path to the Chagall, but it's gone.
Charlie almost loses what little composure she has left. She knew this day was coming, but she'd been so distracted she'd forgotten. She sinks into the bench that now faces an unremarkable painting that is not even close to the same shade of blue as Bass Monroe's eyes.
"Sorry about Mariée. They sent her back to Japan yesterday, Charlie." Joe has come up behind her. His voice is quiet. He knows how much she loved that painting. "You all right?"
"No Joe, I'm not." Charlie sounds haunted. He sees tears brimming and sits down beside her. "It's not even the painting. I hate that it's gone, but I knew it wasn't going to be here forever…" she trails off sadly and Joe can tell her mind isn't on paintings at all.
"Something happen with your fella?" He puts a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Tears track through the fresh makeup. She blinks several times and takes a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. "He's not my fella Joe. Just like Mariée, he was only in my life for a little while."
Joe's heart breaks for her. She looks so sad, so lost. "I saw the way he looked at you Charlie. You are special to him. Maybe you need to talk to him and tell him how you feel."
She shrugs as she stands, "I don't think it even matters how I feel Joe. Sometimes things just aren't meant to be. I'll see you soon. Right now I need to go to work."
Joe watches her walk away. After giving Bass his card, Joe hadn't expected to hear from him so soon, but when the phone had rung last night and he'd heard the sadness and desperation in the younger man's voice; Joe had agreed to meet for coffee without a second thought. They'd talked for a long time. Joe understands Bass now in a way he certainly didn't a day ago. He hopes Charlie will give her fella a chance to explain. Joe hates to see so much sadness in two people who so clearly adore each other.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Bass feels his heart lurch when he sees her approach the gallery. He's been watching through the studio window, waiting. He sees she's dressed formally again. Her hair is up and her glasses are in place. Bass can also see that her posture is rigid. Charlie is trying to appear calm, but he can sense the tension even from where he stands a floor up.
He wants nothing more than to hold her until she relaxes. He wants to kiss the tension away. More than anything he wants a chance to explain.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Charlie sees Nora at the desk and says hello.
Nora looks her up and down, "You look nice. What happened to casual days upstairs?"
"About that…" Charlie says with a frown, "Would you mind if I go back to our original plan? I'd really like to help you down here. I don't…" she pauses, her emotions almost getting the better of her, "I don't want to work upstairs anymore."
"Oh Sweetie." Nora says pulling her into a hug. "You want to talk about it?"
Charlie shakes her head no, biting her lip.
"You can work wherever the hell you want to, and I'll tell Bass to keep his distance." She watches Charlie carefully. "Did he hurt you? If he did, you tell me. I don't care if he's Miles' best friend. My Uncle Carmine knows how to make people disappear."
Charlie laughs and it feels good. "No Nora. The only thing hurting is my heart. I'm pretty sure it will heal without any help from your Uncle Carmine, but thanks."
Nora nods and watches as Charlie goes to talk to a young brunette who has just walked in. She reaches for the phone. Maybe she doesn't need to call Uncle C, but a different call definitely needs to be made. After a few rings, the familiar voice answers.
"Miles? We need to talk."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Bass has been pacing ever since he lost sight of her outside. She must be in the building now. He knows it's probably wishful thinking that she'll even come up here, but he's hopeful. He can always go downstairs to talk to her but he doesn't want an audience.
When he hears footsteps on the stairs, he stops pacing and tries to calm his breathing.
When she reaches the top of the stairs it is as if a part of his heart that was missing has reappeared. Even dressed up like 'Office Barbie', she is stunning. He watches her approach and notes that she's making a point of not meeting his eyes.
"Charlie, I –"
"This is Elizabeth. She'll be posing for you for as long as you need her." For the first time Bass notices that Charlie isn't alone. A brunette with big green eyes is standing next to her. She gives him a friendly smile and holds out a hand for him to shake.
He shakes Elizabeth's hand without saying anything. His eyes go back to Charlie. She's looking at him now and their eyes lock for a moment. He sees the pain and the sadness in her eyes, but then they close off and she is turning to walk away.
"Charlie, can we talk? Please." He's addressing her back.
She stops without turning. "No Bass," her voice is so quiet it's almost a whisper. "No, we can't." and then she's gone and once again his heart feels incomplete.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
The week passes in a blur.
Charlie and Bass now openly avoid each other.
Models come and go from his studio. Duncan Page makes the occasional appearance. Sometimes, Bass has left with her. Every time she sees him, Charlie feels raw.
They are both miserable and unhappy, but neither has any idea how to fix what is broken.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Charlie meets Danny for lunch at their diner. He is clearly in a good mood.
"So Gina met Dad and Maggie and they really like her." Danny is grinning. Charlie can't help but smile back. She loves her little brother so much. She wants him to be happy.
Taking a bite of her salad, she is surprised to discover it tastes as flavorful as cardboard. Uninterested, she pushes it away with a sigh.
Danny raises an eye brow, "What's with you? You've never been a picky eater before." There is genuine concern in his scratchy voice. He's worried about her.
"Nothing. Just not hungry today."
He takes a bite of his BLT and chews thoughtfully, watching her. Finally he says, "You look sad. What's going on? Tell me Charlie."
She shakes her head, but can't stop her lip from quivering. "Nothing." She says again, this time her voice just a whisper.
Realization dawns on Danny's face. "Oh hell. You're all sad because of him aren't you? What did he do?" Danny's usually sweet face contorts into an angry scowl. He puts down his sandwich and picks up her hand. "Charlie, talk to me. What did that old guy do to make you sad?"
"He's not old." She whispers, and then she breaks down. Her narrow shoulders shake as she cries.
Danny moves to her side of the table and pulls her close, patting her back. "Oh Charlie, I don't ever want to see you cry. He's not worth it. He's not."
Her voice hitches between sobs, "But I thought… I thought that he WAS worth it." Then she buries her face in her brother's neck and it's just like they are kids again – except this time he's the one comforting her. He doesn't like this. She's always been the strong one. She's always been the one to comfort him.
Danny hates seeing his sister sad. His jaw tightens in anger.
Bass Monroe has some explaining to do.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Miles is sitting at his desk. A stack of case files sits in front of him. Three new homicides in his precinct in the last forty-eight hours should mean that he's so busy he can't think about anything else. He can't concentrate on the files though, not since he had received not one, but two urgent calls regarding his apparent gross deficiency in the match making department.
First Nora had called a few days ago. She had said Charlie was a mess and is now refusing to work with Bass. He wasn't all that concerned initially. In fact, he probably would have just chalked it up to a simple lover's spat if it weren't for the second call – the one he'd received today.
Miles and Danny aren't terribly close and Miles can't remember his nephew ever calling him before. Not once. Today Miles had gotten an earful when he'd answered his desk phone that second time. Danny is pissed. He is pissed at Bass Monroe for making Charlie cry. He is pissed at Miles for encouraging Bass and Charlie to date. He is pissed that he is no match physically for the former Marine. He is pissed that Miles refuses to leave work early to 'kick that old guy's ass'.
Miles rubs his temples wearily. He's got to go see Bass after his shift, but just to talk. Miles knows his 'brother' better than anybody, and he is sure that he's not hearing even close to the whole story. There will be no shortage of ass kicking if he's wrong, but Miles wants to know the whole truth before he starts throwing punches.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Charlie helps customers all afternoon. Whenever there is a lull, she answers the phone. She is hyper aware of the staircase. She can't stop thinking about Bass… about the way his eyes crinkle when he's laughing… about the way his hand holds the paint brush…. about the way he could read her mind with a glance…about the way it felt to lose herself in his touch.
She closes her eyes, willing the images to go away. She opens them just in time to see Duncan Page enter and walk purposefully up the stairs.
Charlie suddenly feels sick.
Nora sees the change in Charlie, and following her gaze sees Duncan as well. "Hey Sweetie, why don't you go home early? It's been a long day."
Charlie nods, grabs her bag and leaves. She's honestly not sure how much more of this she can take.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
When Miles' shift ends, he drives to The Clayton. Arriving, he says hi to Nora and gives her a quick kiss before mounting the steps two at a time.
He scans the studio and sees Bass at his easel, deep in concentration. Miles walks over, eyeing the curvy – and naked – brunette asleep on the red couch as he approaches his friend. In the background Miles can hear an old Otis Redding song playing softly.
"What do you want Miles?" Bass sounds tired and grouchy. When he looks up, Miles can see black circles under his eyes, and notices that Bass has been drinking. He is a mess. His hair is sticking out at weird angles. His clothes are wrinkled.
"Just wanted to talk." Miles doesn't know how Bass can look at these naked hotties all day without going crazy. He peeks over Bass' shoulder to see the painting before jerking his gaze away. "Hey Bass?"
"What?" Bass is clearly not in a chatty mood.
"I'm no artist, but aren't you supposed to be painting the girl on the couch?" Miles doesn't have to look at the canvas a second time. The girl in the painting is not the brunette. It's Charlie. A very naked Charlie.
"I've been trying to paint her all week." He points at the sleeping model. "No matter what I do, she always turns into Charlie." He stands and walks over to a work table. "Look." He points to stacks of drawings. Miles glances through them. Every single one is of Charlie. Some show her naked. In some she is sitting in front of a painting. There are several that show her in front of a window, wearing a robe. Several show her laughing. They are all different, but they are all Charlie.
"What the hell Bass?"
His friend shrugs sadly. "I'm losing it Miles. She hasn't talked to me in over a week. Ever since then I've been…"
"Obsessed?"
"Focused." He corrects with a frown. "I miss her."
"Well what happened between you two? Everything seemed fine when we met up for drinks. If you care about her this much, why am I getting angry calls from Nora and Danny telling me you've broken her heart?"
Bass closes his eyes. "Broke her heart?" he asks, his voice a whisper. "Fuck."
"Evidently she broke down and cried like a baby with Danny at lunch today. She told Nora she can't work with you anymore. Nora said she was almost in tears during that conversation too." He pauses for a moment, "So again, Bass – what the hell happened?"
Bass walks to the window and stares out at the busy city street below. When he finally speaks, his voice sounds hollow. "Duncan. Duncan happened."
Miles groans, "Duncan Page? When are you going to get it through your stubborn head that you need to write her off?"
"You know I can't do that."
"Sometimes you are the biggest idiot. You don't owe Duncan anything Bass. Not one damn thing."
"Except that I feel like I do owe her. You know that." Bass is obviously torn. It's not the first time he and Miles have had this conversation.
"What about Charlie, Bass? What do you owe her?" Miles is starting to get pissed. "Can't you at least tell her how you feel?"
"I have tried!" Bass yells, turning to face Miles. "I have tried." His voice is quieter now, "I don't know what else to do." He picks up a glass and empties the amber liquid with one gulp. "I called her. I texted her. I've left her message after message. I explained the whole thing. She still won't talk to me. I'm not even sure she listened to my messages or read my texts. I tried to talk to her on Monday when she came here and she walked away."
"Oh." Miles says quietly.
"Fuck!" Bass' temper flares and he hurls the empty glass at the far wall angrily. It shatters with a crash.
The brunette on the couch jumps up from her nap with a squeal.
"You can go now." Bass says, his voice low and cracking with emotion. "Both of you."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Miles leaves The Clayton and drives straight to his niece's apartment. He rings the buzzer. He waits a long time before she lets him in. She's wearing sweats and a loose tee shirt. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail. She looks exhausted, has bags under her eyes, and judging by how red they are; she's been crying.
"Hey Kid." He says pulling her into a hug. "You okay?"
"No." Charlie leaves his embrace and walks to a window seat, where she perches. She stares out the window, looking so small and sad that Miles wants nothing more than to take care of her. If he hadn't just seen how badly this whole thing is also impacting Bass; he'd already be kicking the shit out of his best friend.
"Bass told me he's been calling, been trying to talk to you?"
She doesn't respond.
"Maybe you should hear him out?"
"Did he tell you what happened?" Charlie asks. She sounds like she's not done crying yet.
"No. Just that it involved Duncan."
Charlie snorts. "Yeah, Duncan." She takes a deep breath before continuing, "So, I'd just given him the one thing I can only give once, and everything was good and really wonderful, and then she was there and I could tell she was claiming him for herself."
Miles looks at her blankly, "The one thing you can only give once?" Then it hits him and his face goes hot. "I'm going to kill him." He mutters.
"I was standing there in a towel, and all I could think was that she's been on the cover of People magazine. I wanted him to tell her to leave… to get out, but he didn't. It was like she had some power over him, and there I was in a damn towel. I was humiliated. I was devastated." Tears are streaming down her face now. Her voice is just a whisper.
Miles is trying his best not to focus on the news that Charlie was a virgin before Bass – Hell, what had he been thinking setting them up in the first place? He takes a deep breath and speaks in calm, reassuring tones, "For what it's worth, I know her and she's nothing special. In fact, she's kind of a bitch."
"Yeah, I picked up on that." Charlie says with a frown. "Which makes it worse I think."
"How does that make it worse?" Miles is sure he doesn't even want to know, but he has to ask.
"I left and he stayed with her. He stayed with the bitch instead of coming after me. That's why I am not answering his calls. That's why I won't talk to him. He picked her. So now he can have her. I don't care."
Miles watches her. Charlie is trying so hard not to break down, it's killing him. "Except you do. You do care." He walks over and hugs her again. This time she lets him.
They stay like that for a long time. Eventually Charlie has calmed down. "Thanks Miles."
"Listen, you really need to talk to him okay? There is stuff with Duncan…" he trails off, uncertain of how to proceed. "Stuff with her that Bass…" he starts over. "Bass thinks he owes her, and that's all. There is no love connection there. I promise you. He's messed up right now Charlie. He misses you."
"Yeah?" she asks.
"Yeah. He was painting you when I was over there a while ago…. Painting you from memory even though some hot little brunette was lying naked in front of him. She might as well have been a chair. He was not seeing her."
Charlie chuckles at this, wiping away a couple tears. "A chair huh?"
"Yeah. I don't remember seeing him like this over any woman before, okay? You are in his head. This Duncan stuff… well, that's something you need to hear from him. It's not my story to tell, but I promise you it's not what it looks like. You are the only woman he's thinking about right now."
She nods slowly as if she's considering something. "Maybe I'll talk to him. I need to think about it."
"Hey, that's a start." He walks over and puts his arm around her shoulder, "Kiddo, you and Bass are two of the most important people in my life. I need you guys to work this shit out. Okay?"
She smiles a little. "I'm not promising you anything. I'm still really mad at him, but maybe I'll listen to what he has to say."
Miles nods, puts a quick kiss on the top of her head and starts for the door. Suddenly he stops, "What the hell is with Otis Redding today?"
"Huh?" she asks, distracted.
"I think your stereo is broken. Pretty sure I've heard this same damn song three times since I got here." He starts to walk again and then turns to face her as realization dawns, "And also at Bass' place. He was listening to this too."
Miles sees it. Suddenly there is a spark of something…. maybe its hope, in Charlie's eyes. "He was listening to Otis Redding?" her voice is very soft. Her eyes are hazy and unfocused as if she is lost in a memory.
"Yeah. This same song even. Pretty sure he had it on repeat too." Miles chuckles at her little smile. "I gotta go Charlie. Call me if you need anything, okay?"
"Yeah, thanks Miles. I will."
As he leaves her apartment he starts humming "These Arms of Mine" under his breath. He doesn't even realize he's been doing it till he's almost home.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Bass doesn't sleep. He can't stop thinking about her. At some point he gives up even trying to rest. He leaves his bed and takes a bottle of whiskey to his studio. He sits on the model's couch, drinking in silence – staring at his portrait of Charlie which he's leaned against the back of the easel.
He misses her. He wishes she was here and that she would talk to him. His life doesn't fit right without her in it. He doesn't know how she became this important to him. They haven't even known each other long, but it doesn't matter.
She has his heart.
Bass silently wonders if he will have to drink himself to sleep for the rest of his life. He's afraid that if Charlie doesn't come back to him, he'll have no other choice. He drinks straight from the bottle, staring at the painting until eventually the whiskey does its work and he nods off on the couch.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Charlie tosses and turns. She can't sleep. Sometime after midnight, she gets up and pours a glass of wine. She stands by her window, watching the city lights, sipping from her glass. She drinks a second glass and then begins to pace. The voice of Otis Redding still softly fills her apartment as thoughts swirl through Charlie's head. She remembers Joe saying that he could tell Bass cares just from the way he looks at her. She remembers Miles saying she doesn't know the whole story and she needs to listen to Bass' version. She remembers the way Bass had touched her like she was fragile…the way he whispered soothing comfort into her ear…the way he filled her slowly, carefully as if she might break.
Charlie makes a decision. Tomorrow, she'll go see him. She'll tell him she's ready to listen. She climbs back into bed and drifts off easily then, feeling like maybe things will work out after all.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Charlie wakes feeling refreshed for the first time in over a week. She dresses in charcoal slacks and a sleeveless silk blouse that matches the color of her eyes. She leaves her hair down before putting on her glasses.
She takes the bus to the gallery, deciding she wants to get there early. She doesn't want to waste any more time before she talks to him. There is an optimistic smile on her face as she enters, and she doesn't even stop at the desk before heading toward the staircase.
Before taking that first step, she looks up and sees them standing at the top deep in conversation. Bass looks haggard, wearing old blue jeans and nothing else. Duncan Page is wearing leather pants and a red tank top that is easily two sizes too small. She looks relaxed. They both glance down at the same time and see Charlie poised to take the first step.
Charlie's eyes lock on Bass' and she sees horror in his expression. Clearly he hadn't thought she'd be here this early. She takes an unsteady step back and then turns to walk away. She doesn't even know where she's going but she can't be here. She can't do this again. She can't breathe.
She stumbles into Nora's office, swinging the door shut behind her. Charlie falls onto the leather couch that sits in one corner, her small frame wracked by sobs. The door swings open and he's there. She turns her face away from him, biting down on her own hand to keep from crying out.
Bass comes to her and kneels next to the couch. He reaches for her, but she jerks away from his touch.
"Charlie," his voice cracks. She can hear tears behind his words. "It's not what you think. I swear to you it's not. Duncan and I are not together like that. Nothing is going on between us."
"Then why is she always here?" Charlie chokes out.
He reaches for her again, and puts a hand over hers. This time she doesn't immediately pull away and he hopes this is a good sign. "Duncan needed my help with something. I owe her for some stuff from a long time ago Charlie. That's all."
"I don't understand. What do you owe her?" Charlie looks at him, her eyes still shimmering with tears.
He runs a hand through his hair. "It's hard to explain…"
Duncan chooses that moment to stick her head around the door frame. "Hey Sebastian, look at this! We made the front page of the Society section." Then she tosses a newspaper his way. He catches it easily and glances down. Charlie looks too. They both see the headline at the same time "WAR CLAN LEAD SINGER IN LOVE WITH UP AND COMING ARTIST". The picture below the headline shows Duncan and Bass clearly as they are climbing out of a limo, hand in hand.
Bass groans as if in pain, "Let me explain this Charlie."
Charlie staggers to her feet, "I think I'm going to be sick." She leaves the office in a daze. As she runs down the hall to the ladies' room she can hear Duncan laughing behind her.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Charlie turns in her resignation as soon as Nora gets to the gallery. Nora says she won't accept it and reminds her that Mathesons are tough. She'll get through this, but only if she stands her ground. Finally Charlie agrees, but she stays in Nora's office reviewing inventory statements for most of the day. She just isn't ready to face him.
After lunch Nora asks her to help get a painting from upstairs. "Don't worry Sweetie. He left a while ago. He had an appointment. Said he'd be back this evening."
Charlie inhales deeply, sets her shoulders straight and nods. "Okay, what am I looking for?"
Nora looks at a list she's holding. "I'm not sure exactly. It's for the show on Friday though, so it has to be one of the nudes." Nora gives her the dimensions that are listed on the report she's reading.
Charlie slowly walks up the stairs. She is inundated with memories… bringing him coffee… the way he leaned on his bar stool while he painted her…. The way he watched her when the robe would drop… the way it felt when he was kissing her… when he was inside her… She shakes her head, and focuses on each step. Left. Right. Left. Right… until she reaches the top.
She stares at the couch and then looks at the easel. She is drowning in memories of this place… the day the air was off and he took off his shirt… the feel of his hands when he'd told her they had 15 minutes… the way he talked to her when they were in bed… the way he soothed her and comforted her when she was nervous… the way he showed her a different side of himself in the shower… . the way he made her feel loved…
It's almost too much. She moans a little and turns to go back down stairs, when she thinks of Nora and how kind Nora has been to Charlie. She won't let her friend down. "Get a grip Matheson" she says to herself. Turning again, she goes to the corner of his studio where he keeps his finished work. The first thing she sees is the sketches. There is a stack on top of his work table. There are easily forty of them. She thumbs through and her heartbeat accelerates. Each one is of her. Some are from her sitting, but the vast majority must have been drawn from memory.
She finds two paintings that are in progress. They are both of her as well. One is from the day she'd stood in front of the window in the robe. The expression on her face seems sad. It's a beautiful painting and she stares at it for a while before continuing her search. Nora had said the painting she's looking for would be a finished one, and based on the dimensions mentioned – it's probably the portrait she'd sat for.
She finds it at last, but it is wedged between a wall and a stack of paintings covered by a sheet. Charlie moves the sheet and begins to set aside the paintings one at a time so that she can free the portrait.
At first she's not paying much attention, but soon she is lifting each one carefully and inspecting every detail in awe. The artist in her… the art lover in her….is stunned. These pieces are amazing.
Charlie remembers back to their first meeting. She'd told Bass that his heart wasn't in the nudes he was so well known for. She sees now where his heart has been all along. Each of the paintings – and by the time she's went through all the canvases hidden under the sheet, she counts forty-six – fit into one of two categories. Almost a third of the paintings are of battle field scenes. Charlie knows nothing about the military, but based on the uniforms and desert surroundings, Charlie guesses they depict scenes from Iraq or Afghanistan. These scenes show the truth of war. They are not pretty. They are filled with fear and desperation, with anguish and death. Many are graphic, but what makes these works breathtaking is how Bass has managed to incorporate a feeling of loyalty and honor, friendship and brotherhood. The emotions behind these paintings are raw. Charlie doesn't even realize she's crying until her tears start to drop onto one of the canvases.
After looking at the pictures depicting battle, she turns to the others. The rest of the canvases are portraits: portraits of soldiers. The men and women in these paintings are laughing or looking tough or acting silly. Some show soldiers being very serious. Personalities are clear in each. These are real people with real emotions. Or they were. Each image of a soldier is superimposed over a headstone with names and dates. These paintings convey the humanity of each soldier while also showing the epic sacrifice made by each. The faces of these fallen men and women break Charlie's heart. She doesn't remember any painting ever initiating this much emotion in her. She is stricken with it.
Charlie is sitting in the midst of them – surrounded by Bass' hidden stash of military paintings - her cheeks hot with tears, when she hears someone coming up the stairs. Bass is here.
Charlie stands, a little unsteady. She wipes tears from her cheeks and looks at him. He smiles at her at first. He looks tired, but she sees gratefulness in his expression. He's glad she's here. Charlie's heart lurches and she takes a step toward him.
Then he sees what she's been looking at and his expression hardens. A cold mask slides into place over the smile and she can see the anger as his face flushes with it. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I'm sorry Bass. Nora sent me to look for the portrait. I couldn't find it at first…"
She trails off, watching him as he hurriedly starts to stack the paintings she'd been looking at. "You shouldn't have been snooping through my things Charlie." His voice is like ice.
"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean to pry…"
He turns on her, "I don't show these for a reason, okay? I don't show them to anyone Charlie. Not ANYONE." He's beyond angry and she can also see pain in his face. He seems suddenly haunted. "Not ever."
She backs away from him, "I really am sorry Bass."
He looks at her for a moment, but his eyes are unfocused. He's seeing something else. Something from long ago. Some memory that weighs heavily. "You need to leave. I don't show those for a reason." He says again, turning his back to her.
Charlie moves past him, heading for the stairs. When she reaches them, she turns. He's standing perfectly still, staring at the paintings scattered around his studio floor as if in a daze.
When she speaks, her voice is soft, but sure. "Bass, I don't know your reasons for keeping these hidden, but I hope you'll reconsider. You have so much talent, but you are wasting it with the nudes. These paintings… they are amazing. They are evocative and authentic and emotional. They take my breath away. The nudes are nice, but your heart isn't in them. This is your statement. This is your heart." She takes a ragged unsteady breath before finishing. "Show the world THIS."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
And then Charlie is gone.
Bass stands there for a long time, finally working a shaky hand along his jaw line. He's surprised to find that his cheeks are wet. He knows this consuming sadness is only partly because of the paintings. Whenever he sees them, emotions long hidden always resurface. But this is bigger than that.
She'd been wrong. The paintings aren't his heart. She is. And now she's gone again.
Carefully he pulls her portrait from the corner where he'd stashed it after waking this morning. He stares at it for a long time, part of him hating the fact that Nora wants it now.
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
As Bass' big opening approaches, Charlie is seeing even less of him than usual. He mostly stays hidden in his studio. Duncan comes and goes. Nora is busy getting the collection ready for hanging the day of the show. Charlie is tasked with some unrelated gallery business. This is Nora's way of limiting Charlie's Bass exposure. Charlie is both thankful and sad. She misses him more every day.
Charlie isn't even going to go to the show. She won't, but Miles tells her in no uncertain terms that she must go. Nora will be busy and he needs a date. Finally Charlie agrees.
She goes shopping for the perfect dress, and surprisingly finds it at the first dress shop she visits. It is long, strapless and starkly white. The fabric is supple and clings to her every curve. The slit opens to her upper thigh. The bodice makes her breasts look larger than they are and the swell of them spills over the top of it. She lets her hair hang long and loose down her back and slides her feet into the red Mary Jane stilettos. She isn't sure it all works until Miles shows up.
"Holy hell!" he says reverently. "Charlie, you look amazing."
"Thanks Miles." She's looking in the mirror, wondering if going is even a good idea.
"You have to do this. You guys can't avoid each other forever." He looks her up and down one more time, and lets out a low whistle. "And no way is he avoiding you tonight."
She smiles shakily, and takes a deep breath, "Thanks. Let's go before I lose my nerve."
Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Miles and Charlie get to the gallery and the party is already in full swing. As they each take a glass of champagne from one of the hostesses, she has a thought. "Uh Miles?"
"Yeah Charlie?"
"Just so you are prepared or whatever… I uh, sort of posed for Bass and so you might see me naked tonight you know … in a painting."
Miles chokes on a sip of champagne. "Yeah kiddo, I already stumbled upon the fact that you'd posed for him when I was visiting the other day, but thanks for the heads up."
They find Nora and chat with her for a while. They do a circuit of the gallery and as they finish each room, Charlie is becoming annoyed. "It's not here." She says, under her breath. Everywhere they look paintings of beautiful naked women are displayed – not one of them is of Charlie.
Logically she knows maybe she should be thankful, but she truly believes the portrait is good. Really good. Maybe the best one he's ever done. He should be displaying it so people can see what he's capable of – or at least as much as he's willing to show of his capabilities. Her thoughts wander to the hidden military paintings, but she quickly puts them out of her mind. He had made it clear they are none of her business.
Charlie finds Nora again. "Where's Bass?" she asks. She's looked for the painting in every room and she's also looked for the artist himself. She hasn't spotted either one.
"I'm not sure Sweetie. He might be upstairs. I don't think he likes the crowds."
Charlie nods and decides it's now or never. She walks purposefully up the stairs, stopping only when she reaches the top. The space is dark, but she sees him immediately. He is facing the window, watching the city lights beyond the glass. Her eyes roam his form hungrily. He's wearing a tailored suit. It is black. The dress shirt underneath it is white. The shirt is open at the collar. His hair is smoothed down a little. His beard has been neatly trimmed. He looks amazing. She feels desire roll through her body in waves.
"Bass." She says, her voice barely audible across the space.
He turns slowly and she notes that he's holding a glass of something – knowing him, it's whiskey. He stares at her for a while. Finally he nods, "Charlie."
She takes a few halting steps toward him. His expression is carefully guarded. If it weren't for the nervous bob of his Adam's apple, Charlie would think seeing her means nothing to him. She knows him though. She feels his gaze as it burns like fire on her skin. She walks closer. Charlie watches as he inhales sharply. She feels when his eyes move down her body, only to quickly return to her face. Charlie walks past him, standing where he'd been only moments before. She gazes out on the city she loves, soaking up the color and lights, feeling his gaze hot on her back.
"Are you that mad at me?" her voice is still quiet. Still barely more than a whisper.
"What are you talking about?" his own voice is rougher than usual. He sounds hoarse.
"The portrait…. You didn't include it the show. I thought it was good. I thought you would hang it…" her voice trails off sadly.
He doesn't answer for a long time. She turns and he's just staring at her. "I'm not mad at you Charlie." He says finally, taking a drink from his glass.
Charlie's eyes sting with tears, "Then why?"
Bass puts his drink down on the window sill and reaches for her hand, "Come with me."
His touch gives her nerve endings an electric jolt. Her eyes fly to his, and she sees his composure failing. Bass feels this too – this thing that connects them and makes their bodies hum when they are together. Charlie nods slightly, and he leads her through the studio, opening the door to his apartment. Slowly he leads her to his room. "I did hang it." Bass moves to stand right behind Charlie, his breath hot on her ear. "I hung it in here, because this one," He hesitates, pressing his lips against her ear with a feather light caress, "This one is just for me."
She sees her portrait then in the shadowy darkness. He has hung it on the wall above his bed.
Charlie turns to face him. They are so close, but not touching. "You hung it here?" she asks, eyes wide.
"I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else seeing it." He leans in closer, only a fraction of an inch separates them now. "I don't want to share you, not even a painted version."
Charlie feels the intensity of the moment and it almost scares her. She is trying to remember why she was mad… why they've been apart. She remembers, and frowns. "I bet Duncan hates that it's here."
Bass takes a step back and Charlie can see she's made him angry. He takes a deep steadying breath and then says clearly, "Duncan has never been in this room. She will never be in this room. I am not sleeping with her. We dated for a brief time four years ago. I haven't so much as touched her since." He just looks at Charlie then, waiting to see her response.
There is silence between them. Bass looks into Charlie's eyes and sees confusion and doubt. He gently places his hands on her shoulders and sits her down on the edge of the bed. She won't meet his gaze and stares in her lap, wringing her hands. He kneels down in front of her and takes her hands in his.
"Charlie, look at me. Please look at me." Slowly, finally her eyes lift to his. "Since I met you, I am incapable of feeling anything for another woman. Don't you understand how much you mean to me? Without you I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't laugh. I see you in everything I do. I need you in my life. I need you Charlie, just you." He reaches up to stroke her face and she leans into his hand. "I'm so sorry that I hurt you. I would do anything to make your sadness go away. Please let me make it up to you. Forgive me and come back to me."
She sees the truth in his face. A feeling of relief washes over Charlie, "I need you too. I'm so sorry I didn't listen. I should have tried harder to understand. Forgive me too?" she asks with a little smile.
"Nothing to forgive Charlie. I'm just so glad you're here now."
She reaches for him and pulls him close. His arms go around her waist like it's the only place he would ever want them to be. "I'm not going anywhere."
He grins up at her from where he still kneels at her feet. The lines around his eyes crinkle. "We're good then?"
Charlie sighs, leaning into his embrace, "We're better than good."'
His lips find hers and all the anxiety and worry of the time spent apart evaporates as they find each other in this kiss. The meeting of their lips is gentle. The sweep of their tongues is sweet. They savor every moment. Bass runs his hands down her bare arms. Charlie grabs his lapels and holds him close.
He presses tiny kisses along Charlie's jawline, and down her throat. Bass' fingers trace the edge of her dress bodice, stroking the soft flesh of her breasts. She moves her hands inside his jacket, moving them to his back, rubbing gently against the hard muscles there. Bass moves his hands down her sides and when he finds the zipper, he slowly begins to pull. The kiss is deepening with every moment, but as Charlie feels her dress loosening, she pulls back. "But what about your show? We don't have time…"
But he's kissing her again, and she moans when the zipper releases completely and the dress pools at her waist.
"I don't care about the show." He says, breathlessly. "We can take all the time we want." Bass feels his way down her torso and then leans back to take a look at her. "Damn Charlie." His voice is reverent as he brushes fingers over the white lace bustier she wears. "Did you know we were going to make up tonight?" his voice holds a hint of laughter.
"I was hoping." She kisses the corner of his mouth before trailing to his ear to suck gently at the lobe.
After exploring the silky lace covering her breasts, his hands wander farther down. She stands so that he can relieve her completely of the dress. She's wearing a pair of tiny thong panties, and he enjoys the easy access to Charlie's perfect ass that they provide. She moans when he pulls her close, pressing kisses against the lace covered mound while his hands knead the curves of her backside.
She pulls him to his feet to stand before her. She presses her body to his, feeling his erection through the thin fabric of his dress pants. She kisses him breathlessly and busies her hands removing his suit jacket, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his pants. He shrugs out of the shirt and she leans in to nibble at the hard ridge of his collar bone. He sighs into her hair, before tangling his fingers into it. Bass pulls her away from his chest and kisses her mouth again. His lips are firmer and needier than before. He explores her mouth with his tongue and she responds with unrestrained passion. Charlie reaches for his belt, unfastens it and slowly works his pants over his hips and jutting cock.
Bass kicks off his shoes, toes off his socks and steps out of his pants. Charlie watches each move with rapt interest. He is like a Christmas present that unwraps itself. She sighs happily when he is naked, moving closer, wanting to touch every part of his glorious body.
"Bed." He whispers.
"Yeah, bed." She agrees.
It is only now that he notices the red shoes. He groans. The combination of the sexy white lingerie and smoking hot shoes makes his dick twitch violently against his belly. "Damn those shoes are hot."
She chuckles against his lips, "Want me to leave them on?"
He pulls away and looks into her eyes. "No Charlie, not tonight. Tonight I want you. Just you. Nothing else." Then his mouth is on hers again.
He helps Charlie remove the bustier, the tiny panties and the red shoes. Now, both blissfully naked, they fall into a heap on the bed. "I missed you." She says simply, stroking his chest with her fingers.
"Not as much as I missed you. I can't ever be without you again Charlie. Never again." He moves his fingers down her body, cupping her breasts, tweaking her nipples, stroking through her curls and then slowly, deeply he pushes two fingers into her opening. She arches against his probing fingers. She bucks and rides against his hand.
The portrait on the wall above them was created with paint and brush and time and heart. Bass paints the living breathing Charlie with his tongue and his fingers. He explores and details and works her body like he'd work a canvas – leaving no corner untouched.
Bass leans close to her face, kissing her cheek and sucking lightly at the flesh behind her ear. Charlie moans, finding his mouth with hers while reaching for him. Slowly she begins to stroke. The kiss deepens. He shifts to hover above her.
She looks into his eyes and sees her own need, her own passion, her own happiness reflected there. He presses into her slowly, never losing eye contact as he thrusts and retreats. Charlie links her arms around his neck and arches her pelvis to meet his every movement. The pace is steady. The emotions are sweet. The energy between them is somehow both gentle and frantic. They move as one.
When he reaches down to stroke her sensitive nub, she comes undone around him – clenching at his dick with the contractions of her vaginal walls. He begins to move more urgently, and she knows he'll be following soon.
The caresses are so gentle…the connection so heated…the emotions so raw… Charlie is staring into Bass' eyes, blue on blue, when she realizes a truth. This coupling is more than sex. This is what people mean when they talk about making love.
His eyes still look into hers. His breath is labored when he asks, "Are you sure it's okay if I…"
"Yes." Charlie says. "God yes." And then he's pushing into her as deeply as he can, pressing against the entrance of her womb and that is where he is when he spills into her, claiming her for his own.
Just like the painting above them, she is just for him.
Author's Note: I realize this feels like an ending, but more chapters lie ahead… So meet us again here next week for more Brush Strokes. Thanks as always for the reviews, favorites, follows and private messages. Each and every one is greatly appreciated. Thanks as always to Priya for working her magic on this story to make it the best it can be.