Pictures and Some Memories

The thing about being hurt over something that shouldn't hurt you is that it still feels like the biggest punch to your gut, even though your brain is screaming that you shouldn't feel this way, yet also reminds you about the ordeal over and over.

I mostly put my last exchange with Zacky out of my mind so I wouldn't ruin the very reason I was even back in California, because I finally got to see my two friends make the ultimate commitment in a beautiful ceremony and reception. I wore a mask of smiles for the day, and swallowed my anger long enough for the many, many pictures and how long I absolutely needed to stand next to what was truly the stranger beside me, and fled the minute it felt appropriate. After all, running was what I was best at it seemed, and this time was no exception.

I kept to myself for the remainder of my stay in California, though, save the few outings I had with Charlotte and Violet whenever they would randomly pop over for a visit. It almost felt like it did when I was preparing to leave the last time. I wholeheartedly loved my time here... Jogging on the beach, visiting my favorite hole in the wall places, spending time with my brother... I would be lying if I said I hadn't missed it. It was still just that cloud seemed to follow behind, no matter what I did to extinguish it.

This same longing for California never really ceased after I returned back to New York, though. I knew I'd miss it for a week or two at the most—that's how it usually happened whenever I passed through on tours, anyway—but I found it still rooted deeply within me on Christmas Eve whenever I skyped my Father and siblings while I nestled myself within my duvet, alone in the loft as Carly jumped at the opportunity to visit Baltimore for the holiday and wouldn't be back until the 29th (despite herself and her family and Alex's inviting me to spend it with them, since Larkin was abroad with his father for business). I tried to stifle it—after all, my career was here, and that was my main priority at the time.

However, that all came crashing down the same day Larkin returned from his business trip abroad, scoping out other works and spending time with his grandparents who'd recently returned to their mother country. The day was filled with a Skype meeting with Flyzik and other management before I went to meet with my "gallery camp" as Carly referred to them as at our brief coffee break before I left to meet with them. Still, I had no idea what I'd be walking into as I set off for the space, since Jen and Ramone usually had weird themes for their joint galleries, and it was the time of year for them to put one out again, anyway.

Once I arrived at the gallery, I noticed that they changed the entire interior. Instead of being the large open space it was supposed to be, someone added partitions that folded easily for storage, but were currently bolted to the floor.

"Who's idea was this?" I asked Jen, but the dull blonde haired woman didn't turn to answer, instead ignoring me for Ramone. This was regular occurrence, since she hated that I was hardly ever in the city for too long, and it always came up in our meetings.

"Hello?" I called, annoyance tinging my voice.

"You're late," Jen murmured, narrowing her eyes at me.

"Yes, but I called and left you a voicemail about the accident on the bridge that left one lane open."

"I don't care," she rolled her eyes.

"People died in that accident," I muttered, sitting down at the table with the two of them. "Three, as a matter of fact. Two children and their mother. Have some respect."

"Listen, Andi, we're going to be frank with you," she said in a blunt tone. "You're not pulling enough people into this place whenever you're actually in the city long enough to show. I don't care if you own most of this place, we can find someone else or more people that are more dedicated than you."

"Are you trying to get me to sell my share?" I asked incredulously, taken aback.

She looked at Ramone, the tanned fellow always awfully quiet. She then returned her beady eyes to me. "Yes we are, Andria."

"How are you going to say that I don't bring enough people when Larkin and I had over 100 people our first night, had my first real critique written in the Times, and I sold my first high dollar piece here. I'm still trying to establish myself, after all, and you'd be lying if you say that wasn't a good step in the right direction."

"Those are all good things, Andi, but there's also a conflict of interests here. I really think it'd be best if you showed at another gallery."

"Really? That's what you want?" I asked rhetorically, yet I actually felt an immense amount of relief at the fact that I'd never have to argue about shares with her again.

She shrugged.

"Fine. I'll let Larkin know and you'll have my share before noon tomorrow."

"Thank you for understanding."

"Oh, it's not a problem, I understand that you're a selfish bitch and Ramone is too afraid to challenge you, but have fun with this gallery. By the way, the partitions section the place off too much and give off a weird maze vibe. But, what do I know? It's not like I got a fucking degree for this or anything. You just went to 'Painting with a Twist' enough times to make you glorify the magic of acrylic craft paint."

"Get out of our studio," she sniffed, almost completely unfazed by my remark save the glistening in her eye.

"Way ahead of you," I called as I pushed my sunglasses onto my face and stepped outside, the icy chill sobering me as I began to navigate on the snow covered sidewalk. My mind flashed back to when I was a naive seventeen year old who romanticized snow and crunchy leaves under my boots. Now I despised the snow with a passion. It was too cold, too wet, and such an inconvenience, because although New York had experienced its fair share of snowy weather, some of the people seemed to forget how to function in such conditions.

This, in turn, only seemed to make my mood worse. I had just lost my gallery, or my share of it anyway, and now I had nowhere to showcase any of my work before the tour began once again. Which, by the sound of the arguments being made by both the band and the label, were being pushed back once again until an agreement between both parties could be reached. I don't think the new label liked how All Time Low would rather get their former producers (and only a couple at that) rather than work with the dozens upon dozens of writers they were throwing around- all of which the guys had either never heard of, never worked with, or never, ever wanted to work with. There wasn't much Flyzik or I could do since we only really dealt with making sure the band got from show to show unscathed, but I wished desperately that I could help in any way.

So, although the touring cycle following a record was being pushed back, it still didn't feel like much of a benefit to me. The only person that could help me with my situation was Larkin, and I gladly started making my way the seven blocks to his office, stopping to grab another cup of joe as I went. I knew the caffeine would only make my nerves worse, but I needed something to keep me on my toes in this weather. Plus, a cup of coffee never failed to comfort me, much like the rushed caramel machiatto from Starbucks I had picked up right before I faked my way through Jimmy and Cara's wedding.

It was finally time for me to be honest with myself after my final encounter with Zacky. It had been years, and yet all of these feelings for him had come rushing back the instant he and I saw each other again. But I finally learned that it was foolish to even think about him in that way again. I had a completely different life-- hell, I had a new boyfriend for crying out loud. Leaving him behind was hard, but I'd done it once, and look at where I was now. At least now it didn't feel awkward to talk to my old friends again. Now that Nicholas was no longer a secret that wasn't theirs to share, they could be completely candid with me. After the wedding, Carly sent me two large boxes filled with new supplies, thanking me for my help and being in her wedding, and to also ensure that I'd start coming around more often. I called her while she was on a lounge chair by whatever beach she and Jimmy were staying by on their honeymoon and told her that bribing me was great, but she should know that it'd be hard to keep me away from Orange County, even if he was there too.

Speaking of Orange County, I looked at my weather app on my iPhone and sighed. It was 21 degrees here in New York, stereotypically covered in snow right after Christmas, and I hated it. Meanwhile, in Huntington Beach, it was 57 degrees with a low of 51. It sounded like heaven on Earth... second to my fresh cup of joe, anyway.

10 minutes later, I arrived at the sleek building that housed his office and the doorman let me in with a familiar smile. I tossed a grin to his receptionist Allison, whose usually sleek and perfect blonde hair seemed windblown and in disarray on this terribly cold day. She seemed surprised to see me but otherwise waved and let me past the divider into his office.

"Mr. Deyes, you've a visitor," I called in my best impression of Allison, to which he jumped from the bathroom adjacent to his office. He, too, seemed to be in a bit of disarray, but his was because he never actually brushed his thick brown hair most days after he showered. Today was one of those days, it seemed. In fact, he looked a bit more disheveled than he'd normally allow. Usually clad in tailored black trousers and a nice fitting button down, his button down was wrinkled, and his trousers weren't looking much better. Then I remembered he'd just arrived back earlier this morning and I knew how it was to be in a clustered frenzy as you tried to get back to work and let it go immediately.

"Andria, my love, how are you?" he asked, pecking me on the cheek and taking his coffee out of the drink carrier I'd thought to grab for once. "You've no idea the day I've had."

"Forget to go to the cleaners?" I asked. He nodded earnestly. "Amongst other things."

"Well, I hate to make it worse, but we have to sell back my share of the gallery," I sighed, perching myself on the edge of his large wooden desk. There wasn't much on it, which was odd, except that he seemed to be in chaos from the get go, so I didn't press it like I usually would-- we all have bad days, after all.

"Jen finally get on your last nerve?" he asked. I nodded, making him grin. "Finally we eliminate the bitch!"

"Well, it was only a matter of time... Only now I don't have a place of my own to show anymore," I sighed, then sipped on some more of my latte.

"Well, I have a meeting starting in--" he checked his watch and grimaced "Ten minutes, so after I finish up here for the day, we can discuss your next move over dinner perhaps? It's a Friday, after all, and I'm finally free on a Saturday for the first time in forever, so maybe we could do something tomorrow as well?"

"I'd love that," I replied, giving him a smile before sharing a loving kiss with him. After a couple of steamy moments, I felt my iPhone singing out in my coat pocket, a phone call waiting to be answered. "To be continued, 6 o'clock, our usual place?"

"Wouldn't miss it for the world," he replied, stealing another kiss before I finally answered the phone.

"Andi, its Ramone. Listen, I just want to say that I hate what Jen did earlier. If I could leave, I would, but I have no way of getting back home unless I take an extra job on top of helping her run the gallery. I really admire you for standing up to her, because she deserves it."

"Wow, um, thank you, I guess," I replied awkwardly. Ramone was a short Latino man from the LBC, covered in dragon tattoos and had the largest gauges I'd ever seen. However, he didn't talk much-- this was the first conversation I'd had with him in nearly two months.

"This isn't the only reason why I called. I have a buddy named Erik in Orange County that's looking to open a gallery to show off his tattoo catalog, as well as display local artists. I know you don't live there anymore, but he's looking for really cool and talented artists to display. If this is something you're into, I can give him a call and talk you up to him, show him a couple of pieces you left here before getting them back to you. Are you interested?"

Flabbergasted, I had nothing to say. Yes, I was into it!!! I wanted to shout from the rooftops. Despite my longing to go, I still felt a pang of hesitation. I looked toward Larkin, who was beginning to button his trench coat and put his gloves on right next to me. How badly I wanted to stay here with him, and how badly I wanted to be back in Orange County was already tearing me in different directions.

Still, I surprised myself when I acted on a whim and said, "Let me know what he says. I definitely would be interested in that. Thank you, Ramone, seriously. You've no idea how much this helps me out."

I was staring at Larkin as he left the room while Ramone answered, "No problem, Andi. I'll call you tomorrow and let you know what he says."