AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Yeah,” I said. “I’ve been in a few times. It’s quite a show.”
“That’s me,” Layla grinned. “Same gallery Jen’s dad helped me open nearly thirty years ago.”
“Abigail Rose isyou?”
“Well, me and some other artists, but the place is mine.”
I laughed, “The name makes me think old lady with blue hair, but the art in there is….” I stopped, searching for the right word.
“Provocative?” Gabby laughed.
“That’s one way to put it,” Jenna agreed.
Abigail Rose was renowned throughout the Southeast for high end erotica. The pieces ranged from oil paintings to tribal statues, and tickets to showings were pricey and ridiculously hard to come by.
“She was my dog when I was little,” Layla smiled at the memory.
“The most prestigious gallery of erotica in seven states is named after your dog?” I asked.
Layla pursed her lips, “Pretty much. But I’ve got a new show planned for spring, and it’s gonna take New York by storm, so I’m gonna say it’ll be more than seven states soon.”
“Wow,” I breathed.
“These girls are living, aren’t they,” Holly whispered beside me.
“They are,” was all I could say.
“You can ask them,” Holly leaned in, fringe dripping from her leather jacket.
Holly was right, and I knew it.
I chewed my lip. And then, “Hey, girls, I need some help.”
Four pairs of eyes swung in my direction.
“Sure,” Gabby said. “With what?”
I flopped back in my chair and threw caution to the wind. “I hate this house. I feel like I destroyed my family. And I’m not sure what to do about the other women on the compound.”
“Holy shit,” Jenna said.
I folded my arms on the table and buried my face there, “I know. And the worst part of it is, I don’t even feel like I deserve the help I’m asking for.”
“Hey, now,” Holly said, smoothing a hand up and down my back, “we all need help sometimes. No shame in asking for it.”
I looked up and blew the bangs out of my eyes. “But most of us haven’t fucked up their lives on such an epic scale,” I argued. “I don’t even know how to have friends.” I sat up and looked at them. “I have colleagues. I don’t havethis,” I said, waving a hand at the table.
Gabby, who I was learning to be the analytical one, spoke first, “Calculating the odds here, how are things with Gate?”
I sucked in a breath.
Jenna reached for my hand, “No, don’t think about it. Just say it.”
“Going well,” I said, looking off into the night. “Recovering. Getting there. He’s been more understanding than I ever could have imagined.” I turned back to Gabby, “What’s that got to do with the odds?”
“Gate’s the pres, and he’s all kinds of hot shit, so if he’s in your corner, your odds go up exponentially,” she said.
“Odds of?” I asked.
