Attractions

“So why are we going to this exhibit opening again?” someone from the back asked.

“Publicity,” Tazer answered gruffly. “So pretend that we know what we’re looking at.”

I almost didn’t want to admit that his work was brilliant, this artist. It captured so many feelings into one photograph and his model was hot. Not as hot as Star though, but still. Rivaled pretty close.

“Kaner knows all about this work, so you can just ask him,” Sharpie ruffled my blonde hair.

I grinned. “Aw come on Sharp Shooter. I need to have one smart looking hobby for the ladies.”

“He means for Star,” Stally snickered, walking past me and up into the building where Taylor’s exhibit was opening.

We wandered throughout the different photography and I smiled at one in particular. It was a black and white and there were three people in a field in front of the Eiffel Tower. The model was present as she was in every photo, as was a boy who was tugging on a third girl who was blurry because she was turning away.

“One of our best pieces,” a lady walked up next to me. “The only piece where our artist is present in one of her photos.”

I turned to her. “I always thought Taylor was a guy,” I admitted.

She chuckled, walking the other way and I followed, eager to know more about the artist. “Patrick Kane, isn’t it? Taylor is anything but a guy. Would you like to meet her?” she asked.

I nodded. “That would be great.”

“Last I saw her, she was hiding away with her camera boy. She isn’t overly fond of publicity,” she explained. “Jonah!” she snapped. “Where is that girl?”

The kid looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “Belle knows where,” he muttered, hurrying past her, but his eyes lingered on me a while longer, even as he scurried away.

The woman rolled her eyes and caught another girl by the shoulder. “Belle?” she asked, slightly nicer. “Where is she? We have someone who wants to meet her.”

The petite model took a good look at me and then at the woman. “Sylvia, she doesn’t want to meet him.”

Ouch.

“And why not?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Anonymity,” she answered plainly and unafraid of the woman.

“That doesn’t happen with me,” Sylvia said and smiled. “There she is!”

There was a girl in a short plum colored dress trying to sneak out the window with her camera boy, her shoes in hand.

I heard her swear as Jonah whispered to her. He looked at me again and nodded gravely.

I peered closer and I knew that dress. Star had a dress just like that one. Except hers had roses pinned to the front.

“You’re not leaving your own exhibit,” the woman said and essentially pulled her back in the window, facing me.

“Oh my God,” I said.

Star looked pissed, brushing her blonde hair back over her shoulder and straightening up her dress from her attempted escape. She slipped her black heels back on her feet. She didn’t make eye contact with me as she stood there awkwardly. Star was never awkward.

“Star?” I asked.

“Hey,” she said quietly, making eye contact for the first time.

“You’re the artist behind all of these?” I asked, shocked. “This is what you do?”

She sighed, rubbing her hand over her face and nodded. “This is my life. I go places and take pictures of things I find beautiful.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, anger bubbling up by her huge life secret.

She shrugged. “I don’t tell many people what I do.” She said it so simply like she was stating what her favorite ice cream flavor was.

“And who knows?”

“My parents and Natalie. And now the whole team knows,” she said slowly, looking over my shoulder to see the guys looking at both of us. “It’s not something I usually disclose.”

“Why?”

“Because Pat,” she said. “If no one knows what I do, I don’t have any expectations to meet. I can just do what I want without someone peering over my shoulder, judging me! It’s so much easier to by anonymous.”

I blinked, shocked to hear those words coming out of her mouth. I always pictured Star to be this perfect being who didn’t two shits about what other people think. And there she was, admitting that she did care. “I don’t judge you,” I said quietly.

“And I didn’t want you to start,” she said. “All people do these days is judge and say how someone could have done it better. You of all people should understand.”

I looked up, confused. “Why?”

She shrugged and looked around. “You get judged every day. For your drinking, your partying, your playing. Every aspect of your life is being examined and judged. I don’t want that.”

I opened my mouth and closed it again, trying to collecting my thoughts. Finally, I had a sentence ready to say. “Star, I wouldn’t have judged you.”

“Really?” she looked skeptical.

“Yeah, of course!” I threw my hands up. “Star, why would I judge you? You’re freaking amazing and there’s nothing to judge.”

I must have said something right because her eyes sparkled, her mouth was slightly ajar, and she looked fiercer than I had ever seen her.

“You’re right. There’s nothing to judge. And I’m tired of being judged by those who do know what I do. Well you know what? I take pictures for fun!” she turned to Sylvia. “I quit!” she shouted. “Take my art down!” she ordered, throwing her arms up, stalking back to collect some pieces off the wall.

“No,” Sylvia said. “I will not.”

“We will,” Jonah said, Belle standing next to him. “Bitch,” he mumbled, stalking past her and taking down some of the art work.

I had a choice right then. I could have left, pissed for Star lying to me about what she does and keeping everything a secret. I could have walked away from our relationship. I could have just given up.

Or. I walked over to a wall and started removing things from the walls. Because I understood what it was like to try and live up to everyone’s expectations and being scrutinized at every turn I made.

Soon, with everyone’s help, all of her photos were in the back of the cars and she was taking her last paycheck from her old boss.

“No one will take you,” Sylvia snarled. “You aren’t good enough for anyone out there.”

“I’m good enough for me,” she shrugged it off. “I hate authority so I feel like it’s only right to be my own boss,” she said and stalked off, slamming the door of the trunk. She slid in the passenger seat and caught me staring at her, completely baffled by her show of ferocity. She sighed, rolling her eyes. “I am aiming for a dramatic exit, so if you could speed this up. . .”

“Sorry,” I smiled. I threw the car into Drive and did the best peel out I’ve ever done. “How’s that for dramatic?” I asked, grinning from ear to ear.
She let her hair loose, sticking her head out the window. “Perfect. Absolutely photo worthy.”