The rest of the night goes smoothly, Alexander and I share many discussions from talking about the controversial topics of painters like Picasso. Asking each other questions like is abstract truly art, to the topic of what is art how does one define it? We simply enjoy talking to each other about the many topics that the rich snobs that most enjoy coming to these events don't truly understand or know how to respond to. That is until at about eleven thirty when Cassie decides she wants to go home, and I just had to go with her.
"I would love to finish this conversation over dinner since you must go," Alexander says slyly. I roll my eyes laughing a little despite myself.
"Yes I would like that very much, though we do need to discuss the matter of where you stand on backing my name so I can start to build a name for myself" I reply.
"Yes I suppose you are right Ms. St. Claire but I do believe that having dinner with the richest man in New York will surely help to make a name for yourself," he muses.
I shake my head at him laughing at his cockiness. I grab a napkin from the bar writing down my number for him. "That's my number, use it wisely Mr. Atwood'' I retorted, putting it in the pocket of his suit jacket before purposely messing up the collar of his dress shirt in a flirty manner. I turned on my heel with my clutch and Cassie hot on my heel. We make one stop for our coats before hailing a cab and going home to my studio.
" Are you and Jackson fighting again?" I ask my brow raised slightly as I question her.
"He is being ridiculous! I mean he had the audacity to tell me to go change because he thought that my outfit was too 'Sensual'," she says putting air quotes around sensuality. " I mean first of all I am a business woman. You want a professional yet sensual but also classy look! I thought I nailed it with this jumper!"
she rants.
"I thought you did too," I say, "babes men know nothing of fashion only flamboyant and gay men are exceptions to that statement and Jackson is neither. He is actually the exact opposite! He is a big bulky macho man. What did you expect?" I say laughing at her.
"Ugh! You're so annoying," she groans, throwing a pillow at me from where she sits on my bed watching me take the little make I had on and get ready for bed. "So what was with you and Atwood?" she probes.
"Nothing we just have a lot in common, we really enjoy talking about art and whatnot" I say stripping down putting on an oversize t and a pair of shorts.
"Well y'all kinda look like you were flirting with each other," Cassie says with a mischievous smirk tugging on her lips.
"Cassie, don't read too much into a bit of flirting," I say, giving her a stern look before changing the subject, "You staying the night?" she shakes her head no letting out a loud exaggerated groan before pulling herself off of my bed.
"I text you when I get home," she says I follow her outside watching her safely get into a cab and drive away before locking the door behind me and returning to my apartment walking through the art studio that is down the stair to the loft apartment in up stairs.
Once in my apartment I go to my room flopping on my bed turning on my phone and going through all my notifications. I cleared most of them before tapping on the Messages, Mateo had texted me once more. Even though it's been close to two years since mom died and we have spoken since then he still texts me every once in a while. Maybe because he misses me, maybe out of guilt. I don't know since I never open the texts. I instead let all of the one hundred and forty-three texts that he has sent me stay on delivered, I don't know if I am mad at him or not. I think it's mostly because I am afraid of losing people I care about so I keep everyone at a distance, so ignore Mateo and push all my friends away and let my art consume everything in my life.
I guess I have just been waiting for someone else to help me work through it all, but at the same time I have been pushing people away to a point where nobody could ever get close enough to help nurse all the wounds from all the loss I have experienced. So I let myself live in this perpetual cycle of pain and grief because I am too weak to help myself.