RAGE (BWWM)

10

I didn't hear from Rowan at all, even while I was with Camila. I was concerned, but not too much. If he wanted to see me, then he would've sent for me like last time, but he didn't. Therefore, I did not need to worry about trivial things—all I needed to do was sit back and mind my business.

That's why I decided to go out by myself tonight, without Camila. I looked up some good art galleries in my area and found a few, eventually settling on an exhibit created by a Black artist. I looked her name up online and saw that she was actually very talented—her work was uniquely amazing.

I then bought a ticket on her website, paying a humble twenty dollars for admissions. I continued to read up on her autobiography, making note of her upbringing and what compelled her to start painting. When I thought I had retained a good amount of information, I dressed for the occasion.
.....

I parked behind a bunch of other cars on the street and got out to pay the meter. It was only two dollars for two hours, so I didn't mind at all.

I made my way to the front of the building, showing my ticket on my phone. He scanned my QR code and gave me a cute little bracelet. I thanked the bouncer and entered the venue. Without wasting any more time, I picked a corner and strategically made my way around the entire gallery, careful not to accidentally miss something.

"Champagne?" Someone finally got my attention after I had been nonstop viewing the artwork for nearly forty-five minutes. I averted my gaze from the painting and to a man holding a tray of sparkling wine. I took one and nodded in his direction. He then took his leave, and I went back to eyeing this one painting that I just couldn't seem to move on from. It was by far the most enthralling piece in the whole gallery.

I spent about another ten minutes just looking at it, but when people walked by, I would move back to allow them some space to view the painting as well.

I eventually sighed in contentment before reluctantly moving to the last section. But I quickly stopped when my phone rattled in my purse, making an obnoxious sound. I sat my champagne glass on the ground and reached for my phone to answer it.

"Hello?" I spoke up, not caring who was on the other end.

"Where are you?" His rough voice caught me off guard. I had to clear my throat to hide my surprise.

"I'm at an art gallery," I told him.

"When will you be done?"

"I don't know, but not too much longer. I only paid two hours to park."

"Let me know when you get home. I'll be waiting," he said before hanging up. And I stood frozen in my spot for a good few seconds as I digested his words. He was obviously looking for me, but was his, 'I'll be waiting,' code for hurry the fuck up? Ugh, I bent down to grab the champagne glass before standing back up and finishing it in one gulp. I then turned to find an exit, annoyed that I had to leave before meeting the artist.

As I made my way back to the front of the gallery, I spotted some people gathered around a woman as she spoke. My eyes instantly lit up as I recognized her from her photos online. I checked the time and made a mental note to only give myself twenty minutes at max to talk to her, but it took damn near ten minutes for her to finish her current conversation.

As soon as the group walked off, I spoke up.

"Excuse me?" She turned in my direction.

"My apologies, I didn't see you," she smiled.

"It's okay. I didn't want to interrupt your conversation, but I just wanted to hype you up for a second and tell you that your artwork is amazing."

"Oh my," her smile instantly grew, and it completely morphed her face into one of pure joy. I laughed a bit, mesmerized by her smile.

"Thank you so much," she extended her hand out to me, softly uttering her name. But of course, I already knew it. I placed my empty flute on a random table and grasped her outstretched hand, shaking it firmly. "Amira," I gave her my name.

"That's a beautiful name," she complimented me.

"Thank you. I get that a lot for some reason. Erika is also a beautiful name." Her smile somehow grew even more at my remark, and I was afraid that her face would be sore tomorrow.

"Amira, I don't know if you overheard, but I'm actually selling my art tonight on a first come, first served basis. Is there a particular piece of mine that stood out to you?" She asked, and I immediately thought back to the painting from a few sections ago.

"Actually, there is. It's the one with the...the one where the—" I wasn't really sure how to explain it.

"Show me," she said, and I quickly directed her to the painting.

"I'm in love with this one," I stated, pointing to the brilliant piece of art.

"If you have time, I would love to explain the backstory to you," she said, but I couldn't help but frown as I pulled out my phone. I already went over my allotted time.

"I-I...I'm sorry. Something came up, and I don't have much time," I cringed as I spoke. Erika waved me off, not at all offended by my abruptness.

"Here, take my business information," she dug in her pocket and pulled out a pen and a small card. She then used the palm of her hand as a base to write on.

"Write me, and we can discuss the painting." I took the card from her, flipping it over to read what she wrote on the back of it. I nodded once I realized that she included the number of the painting and also its title.

"Thank you so much," I told her.

"Of course. It was nice to meet you, and please don't hesitate to reach out to me. I'll gladly hold the painting if you're interested," she said.

"Yes, that would be great." We said goodbye, and I hightailed my ass out of the building and down to my car. I put my address into the gps and cursed at the distance.

When I got home, a little over an hour had passed since the last time I spoke to Rowan. Even though I didn't give him a time frame of when I'd be done, I still didn't want him to wait an excessively long time for me to arrive. Unfortunately, it seemed as if I still had him waiting regardless.

I parked in my building's parking garage and texted Rowan that I was at home. He sent back a short message saying that I had five minutes to gather my stuff and meet him at the front of my building.

I cursed myself, racing to my floor and opening my door. I grabbed my phone charger, some sweats, underwear, a bra, and socks. I slipped off my heels and replaced them with my favorite crocs. Rowan already had a bunch of hygiene products, so I didn't really have to worry about bringing my own.

When I was done, I raced all the way back downstairs, surprised that I didn't run into anyone in the process.

I spotted his car parked off to the side of the entrance. I scurried over to it and slipped inside. I just barely closed the door before he started the car and pulled off.

"Rowan, I—"

"Stop talking," he growled out, and just from his tone alone, I could tell that he was pissed. Fuck me.

I pulled on my seatbelt and sat completely silent for the whole ride, just staring out the window and trying not to breathe too heavy as he drove unnecessarily fast down the highway. He wasn't driving recklessly or swerving in and out of lanes by any means, but I couldn't help but grip the seat as he toyed with the gas pedal. And every now and then, I would turn my head to watch the speedometer rise entirely too fast before slowly falling as he took his foot off the pedal.

I stole a glance at him as well, confused by his calm demeanor. But I knew not to be too fooled by his façade because on the inside, he was very much fuming with a somewhat controlled type of anger that could make anyone shit their pants. And unfortunately, his anger was directed at me.

I gulped and sighed to myself. I was in deep shit.
.....

Hey!!! I know it's short, but this is where I wanted to stop. Don't forget to vote and comment!!