Page 98 of Make Me Scream

I swing around and march up to Lane.

“We’re leaving, now,” I snap, wrapping my hand around his wrist.

“Don’t make me call security,” Mundell says.

Joel asks, “Gwen, what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I say. “Professor Porter really loves your work, but now he has to leave.”

Joel smiles uncertainly.

“Oh, thank you. Thanks for coming.”

“Yes, thank you for coming,” Mundell repeats. “Have a lovely evening.”

Lane stands firm until I tug at his arm; finally he budges. I don’t let go of him until we’re through the lobby and standing on the Madison Avenue sidewalk.

“Fuck you,” I say to him, tossing his arm away from me. Hot tears sting my eyes. “I can’t believe you did that. Was it worth it?”

He doesn’t answer. He stares off into the passing traffic.

Does he have some kind of elaborate plan, a meticulously plotted scheme to break Mundell a piece at a time? Am I an unwitting part in it, preventing him from telling me the role I am to play? I wish I could believe that, but he’d tell me now, wouldn’t he? The damage is done, isn’t it? Isn’t there something he could tell me to justify why he had to tarnish the greatest night of my friend’s life?

“Was it worth it, Lane?”

“No,” he says at last. “I guess not.”

I turn and head back inside. I make it to the bathroom before I cry.

Chapter 23

I’d give anything to chase after her, but all I can do is watch her disappear through the gallery doors. If I followed her, she’d run further to get away. There’s no fixing this, not tonight — maybe not ever.

I fucking blew it.

With nowhere else to be and no one to talk to, I decide to head home. There’s a temptation to go back to the gallery I know I should ignore, so I walk fast.

In my head, there was so much more I was going to say to Rush. I had accusations to level, secrets to expose. I didn’t come just to make a scene or land a pithy line, impressing exactly nobody.

Gwen threw me off. She broke my conviction. I don’t blame her, but it’s true. I should have bailed out as soon as I knew I couldn’t carry on as planned. It’s not like I’d never have another chance. Obsessed with winning a battle, I lost sight of the war.

I was impatient, plain and simple. I can’t help it — every day that Gwen has to worry about a rug pulled out from under her is too many. Every day that Rush hides his corruption is too fucking many. I can’t choose between loving Gwen and hating him. It should be an easy choice, but it isn’t.

Rush was dealt a great hand and he played it well. Telling Gwen about Anne was masterful. Planting suspicions in her mind, knowing there are no satisfying answers for Anne’s disappearance. Of course Gwen would see herself in Anne and Chloe, students torn between their art and their teachers. She’d worry she would end up like them, that the man she chose for her master and mentor hid something dark. After all, I hide who I truly am as an artist from his public face — and how can one be trusted if they lie about something as fundamental as their art? Why wouldn’t she suspect there was more I haven’t told her?

I should have brought up Anne sooner, for sure. Then Rush couldn’t have used her as a cudgel against me. But that would have meant talking about her; it would have meant pain.

No, I did not prepare for this moment. I’ve been acting on instinct, and my instinct’s been lousy. If it was good, I would have focused on Gwen, not Rush. I would have had patience, for her sake. Despite everything going on in her life right now, what was on her mind tonight above all? Joel. She wanted a perfect night for her friend, free of conflict and embarrassment. I should have just let them have it.

After half an hour of walking, my heart no longer bangs against my chest. I stop racing around the other pedestrians and fall into their rhythm. My mind clears enough for me to figure out what I should have done tonight with the knowledge I have.

Rush is at a gallery surrounded by dozens of adoring peers. Art reporters were there, eager to debut Joel Franklin to the world and hear all about him from his teachers. A boozy after-party will follow the exhibition.

Rush will be busy all night.

This may be my best opportunity to get what I need.

One of my weaknesses as an artist has been a resistance to making elaborate plans. I like to see where my inspiration takes me. “Death of a Salesman” was the biggest exception, when I forced myself to really develop every aspect so that it could be executed flawlessly. That’s the approach I should take now.

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