Page 58 of Levee

“Oh, really?” she asked, eyes brightening.

“Really.”

“Well, then,” she said, walking her fingers up my stomach and chest. “Then I recommend hydrating. Because I am going to insist on learning all of your moves,” she told me.

Then she twisted away, grabbing my hand, and pulling me along with her through the house.

Objectively, I knew there was some serious shit going on with her, that she was just looking for a distraction from that.

But until she was ready to let me in, I was going to enjoy the fuck out of being that distraction for her.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Jade

I tried not to be judgmental about art. Really, I did. Everyone had a right to express their creativity. From the people compiling pretty little junk journals to those creating this generation’s fine art.

That said, it was hard not to feel really discouraged about your own art and career trajectory when you got yourself all gussied up to go to a fancy art gallery only to find that the hunks of twisted metal with words likeOverconsumptionscrawled on the heaps with spray paint were selling for over a hundred thousand dollars a piece.

And all of them were sold by the end of the night.

I was surprised just how down I felt as I got in my car after the gallery. Especially considering that there had been some big strides in my career just in the past few weeks.

Including that email that came in from Levee’s friend Teddy (well, his assistant) about the hotel job. One that would include at least six pieces of art for the common areas of the hotel. And, possibly, original artwork for every single room in the hotel.

I mean that was too big of a job for just one artist, of course. But even if I was one of ten, that was a lot of commissions. And alot of exposure to people who might want to get their own prints or originals.

And I wasn’t even factoring in the doors that might open to me with Zayn, according to Levee.

Things were really looking up for my career. I should have felt really positive, even if I still genuinely didn’t understand the hunks of metal with spray paint.

I knew as I turned the car over, then just sat there with the cool air blowing on me because I didn’t want to go home, that my mood had nothing at all to do with my job.

I was just in a funk.

Emotionally.

There was still no noise from 7D’s apartment. And the mailman couldn’t shove anything else into his mailbox anymore.

He was gone.

But no one seemed to be looking for him.

I found myself sneaking a look at one of the letters as the mailman tried to push it into the mail slot. Getting a name.

Albeit not a super original one.

Harvey James.

I was sure he wasn’t the only one in Florida. Probably not even the only one in Miami-Dade county.

Still, though, I hadn’t been sleeping. So online sleuthing became the way I spent my nights.

Until, finally, I found him.

His social media profiles were all locked down tight. So save for his profile picture, I couldn’t see if there were any recent posts from him or not.

I mean, it wasn’t like I was expecting to see one that said something to the effect ofGonna be off the grid for a while. Bad guys are after meor anything. But I figured maybe there might be comments asking where Harvey had been, asking him to check in.

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