Page 87 of These Bonds that Unite Us
“Lex and Ridley are both fine. I called my parents and they reached out to the DAU to find out. So the pain is coming from someone else.”
“A mystery fourth mate?”
Bea’s brows furrow and I can hear her mentally counting the potential mates she’s met. I wonder how long it will take her to realize Acherley is one of them. “A new mystery mate, yes,” she finally concedes, choosing to ignore the pull between her and the label exec. “One who is going through something really traumatic.”
“I’m sorry, bestie. It has to be torture not being able to find them but feeling their pain.” A shudder shakes my spine imagining myself in her shoes. I would lose my mind if my mates were being hurt and I had no way to save them.
“I’ll survive. I’m a boss bitch after all.” She grins, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
I switch topics, giving her a break by discussing the newest episode of First Glance Pack with her. She started watching the show after Callisto introduced me to it. ‘Why not enjoy astranger’s relationship drama as a means to avoid my own?’ she’d told me when I caught her mid-episode. Now she’s as invested as we are.
“So your birthday is this week,” I mention after a lull of silence. “Have any plans? Also, I need to know what you want us to get you.”
“Ugh, nooooo. I work Friday, then Orbital Somatic has a show Saturday in Virginia Beach. My parents want me to come up on Sunday for dinner with them, which you are also invited to.” She pouts at the calendar hanging by her desk. “As for a gift, a new roommate?”
I laugh, shaking my head. We both know I can’t do anything about her current housing situation until my brother is caught. She’s stuck dealing with Mr. Acherley for the foreseeable future–at work and at home.
“Where are we going?” I ask when I notice we are headed further into the city instead of toward the house. When I’d agreed to come to the studio to hang out with Bea today, they hadn’t mentioned having plans after.
“You’ll see, gorgeous.” Nexus grins from beside me.
These men and their love of surprises.
Fifteen minutes of evening traffic later, we pull into the parking lot of a several-story tall, sleek gray and glass warehouse. Lights shine from one corner of the second floor, but with the tint on the windows, I can’t see inside. Nexus grabs my hand, pulling me out of the car and leading me to the single door nearby.
The interior of the building is worn, but clean. Sturdy white cement walls and gray floors are lit by soft white overhead lights. There isn’t anything in our immediate vicinity except tapeblocking several doorways. Pack Graves seems to know where they are going, leading us up a stairway to the second floor. Voices trickle down to us, speaking in hushed tones that carry through the open spaces.
Stepping out of the stairwell, my jaw drops open. Hung around the huge, open space are various-sized photographs. “You brought me to an exhibit?” I question, glancing at my mates where they’re standing beside me.
“Not just any exhibit, firefly,” Titan grunts, tilting his head toward the pictures their bodies were blocking. The familiar image of rippling, silver-painted abs surrounded by flowing black fabric has my brain stuttering. My eyes follow the line of a long forearm down to a veiny hand where it caresses the mic stand in a seductive, suggestive manner.
“That’s…” I trail off, glancing to the next picture, and the next. They’re all from my portfolio. The guys shows here on the East Coast. A protest in Philadelphia at the beginning of the year. A Candy Courage show I attended for Bea’s birthday last year. Every single picture spread through the room is mine. “What…”
Did they organize an exhibit? For me?
But why?
Callisto’s hand gently presses to the small of my back, guiding me further into the room. An influx of new voices has my attention straying briefly to the stairs, only to freeze when I see the crowd of people wandering inside.
This is insane. I know the concert pictures I’ve taken have gained a little bit of traction in the music community, but there are so many people here. Did the guys invite them? Are they coworkers or friends? Old classmates maybe?
This is too much. The price they must have paid to rent out this section of the warehouse for the night is enough to send myblood pressure skyrocketing, and that isn’t even factoring in the cost of all of these prints.
“The exhibit is only part of our surprise, babygirl,” Nebula tells me. His large frame moves in front of me, blocking the sea of people discussing my work. A rough, warm palm cups my cheek, tilting my head back so I’m forced to look up at him.
“I can see the dollar signs adding up in your head, and I’m going to tell you right now this is the bare minimum of what we owe you. Your shitty family may have raised you to believe you weren’t valuable, but right here? With us? You’re the rarest, most priceless treasure this world could offer. We are the ones who aren’t worthy.”
His thumb caresses my cheek while he stares into my eyes, imploring me to believe him. It’s difficult to push aside those feelings of inadequacy constantly simmering in my heart, but I manage a shaky nod. He releases my chin and takes my hand instead.
I try not to listen in to everyone’s conversations as we cross the room to a solid black door in the back left corner. Nebula shoulders through it, hitting a light switch on the inside to illuminate the dark room. Multiple stand lights are stored in one corner, and an empty standing desk is in another. Otherwise, the room is empty.
“This is your studio space. We weren’t sure what you would want to add to it, but we can order anything you need.” Titan explains. His heat presses against my back, his chin dropping to rest on the top of my head.
“You rented me studio space?”
“We bought it. This room and the exhibit room are both yours. You can rent the exhibit out to other artists too, if you want.”
They’re insane. The cost of a large space like this, so close to New York–
