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I put on some music and started to get organized in my studio when my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a Connecticut number that I didn’t recognize, but I decided to answer anyway, on the off chance it was my accountant or lawyer calling from a new number. Or maybe it was the realtor calling with good news about the building I was selling in Westport. It would be fabulous if someone had made an offer on my former studio.
“Hello?” I said.
“Little baby Gemma,” came a familiar, snide voice.
Coldness gripped me. “What the hell do you want? And how’d you get this number?”
“I’ll tell you what I want. Fifty fucking thousand dollars, that’s what I want.”
Money. Of course, this was about money. “I don’t even have the full fifty thousand, you idiot. It’s being garnished from your wages. I get a small amount each month deposited into my account, numb nuts.” Oh it felt good to call him names. What was he going to do? Fly two thousand miles so he could insult me to my face?
“I know you don’t have it all yet, bitch.” The raw anger in his tone came as a shock. He’d always been an asshole, but he’d never spoken to me with such venom in his voice before. “But eventually, you’ll have the full fifty thousand, so I figure you ought to give it to me all now to save me the trouble of getting it from you later. It’s my money, not yours. I don’t give a fuck what the judge says. You have no right to it.”
“Because of you, because of what you did, I had to move. I had to close my studio in Westport and move far away. Do you have any idea how expensive moving is?” I gripped my phone harder. “You fucked up my whole life, and for what? Why? Just because we broke up?”
“Yes!” he roared, “because we broke up! It was just a little fight, it wasn’t supposed to be permanent. And the following week, after our fight, when I told you I wanted to get back together, you refused. You fucking refused. You of all people. A disgusting pervert. You think you can be picky?” He scoffed and I thought I heard him take a swig of something. Drunk. Of course. I should’ve figured.
“As I’ve explained to you many times before, I didn’t refuse to get back together with you just to be mean, Kenny. I refused because I knew we weren’t compatible. You could’ve walked away peacefully and left me alone and everything would’ve been fine. But what did you do? You threatened to make me sorry, and then a few days later, I found out you shared intimate pictures of me online. You hurt me and you broke my trust in the worst way possible, and you showed me your true colors in the process. You’re an awful person and I want nothing to do with you, and if you think for one second I might give you any of that money you think you’re entitled to, you’re a fucking idiot.” My voice shook with rage, and I wiped away a fallen tear. I couldn’t believe he’d called me. Only a handful of people had this number.
“I know where you are, bitch,” he said, and my stomach clenched with fear.
“Congrats on knowing how to use the goddamn internet,” I said, figuring he’d searched the new address for my art studio. I’d known it wouldn’t be impossible for people from my former life to find me, but I’d come all the way to Rocky Springs hoping that no one would bother looking. I didn’t want to be found. Especially not by a jizz rag like Kenny.
“I know where you are and if you don’t arrange to start giving me back some of my money soon, I’ll make you sorry. One way or another, I’ll make you pay.” The line went dead, and I stared at my phone in disbelief.
I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. I needed to call my lawyer and let her know about Kenny’s threats. I hoped he wouldn’t try to share pictures of me on the internet again. Investigators had promised the photos had been wiped clean from his hard drive and from his phone. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have a secret backup somewhere. Hell, he could’ve printed out the photos and hidden them under his freaking mattress for all I knew. Wouldn’t put it past the degenerate fuckface.
A sinking feeling came over me. Someone had given Kenny my new cell phone number. But who? Three friends from Westport, my parents, my lawyer, my realtor, and my accountant. No one else had my new number. My parents still weren’t speaking to me—but I’d texted them the number a few weeks ago. Just in case of an emergency.
I called my lawyer but groaned when I got her answering machine. Nevertheless, I left a detailed message telling her about my conversation with Kenny. After that, I set my phone aside and took a few deep breaths.
A spell of dizziness threatened to send me to the floor, and I gripped the edges of my chair so I wouldn’t take a tumble. Not that I’d ever fainted or even fallen during one of my nervous dizzy spells before. But I still felt like I needed to hold onto something, just in case.
Tears blurred my vision, and I blinked rapidly as I swallowed past the burning in my throat. I wouldn’t cry because of Kenny. I wouldn’t. Never again.
A few minutes later, the dizziness had passed, and I no longer felt on the verge of tears. I turned the music back up, faced the blank canvas, and picked up a paintbrush. Until the doorbell rang a few hours later, announcing the arrival of the sign company, I threw myself into my work and channeled my emotions onto the canvas.
CHAPTER20
DEREK
When I arrivedat Gemma’s, I smiled as I noticed the temporary vinyl banner that was hanging on the front porch.Gemma’s Gallery. Holding the bag that contained our lunch under one arm, I rushed up the steps and rang the doorbell. A few seconds later, Gemma appeared at the door wearing a paint covered apron. There were also streaks of paint on her arms, face, and neck. My heart swelled at the sight of her.
“Hey, Daddy!” A smile lit up her face.
“Good afternoon, sweetheart,” I said, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m famished,” she said. “Come on in.” She backed up and opened the door wider to permit my entry.
Her studio looked even better than it had when I’d left last night. She’d put a few more paintings on display, and she’d also organized the “doodads” she planned to sell into colorful bins. There were also two hanging racks of t-shirts near the counter that I imagined would be the checkout area.
“Wow, Gemma, you’ve been busy. I hope you didn’t stay up all night doing this. If I’d known you planned to work more after I left yesterday, I would’ve stayed longer.”
She aimed a guilty smile in my direction, and I noticed her eyes looked both tired and happy. “I was too excited about possibly opening the studio sooner than planned that I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d get some work done.” She covered a sudden yawn and then emitted a soft chuckle.
“Looks like you’ve been painting, too.” I peered around her studio. There were dozens of completed paintings that were already framed and appeared ready for sale, but I spotted several easels set up in a corner of the shop that held half-finished works.
She nodded and wiped at a smudge of paint on her face. “I had a few custom orders come in recently, and I figured I’d get a start on those as well.” She looked at the bag I was holding. “Thanks for bringing lunch, Daddy. I’m starving.”
