Mafia Desire (Erotica)

Theron was laughing so hard that his face was nearly purple. Margaret was cackling as well, trying to keep her tears of laughter from streaking her makeup.

“You are hilarious when you start ranting, you know that?” Theron gasped.

“So I’ve been told.” I replied, still looking at the article and wondering what the hell these critics saw that I didn’t when I painted. I suspected that they were making things up in order to justify their jobs.

“The point is, things are gonna start happening. You don’t see this many positive reviews without calls starting to come in from other galleries. You’ll see.” He gave me a knowing grin.

“Yeah, right.” I replied, sarcastically. There was less conviction in my voice, and they both picked up on it. The reviews were very positive, and I was beginning to seriously wonder if I was might have a real shot at making a living at an artist. I was still far from convinced, of course.

That night I tossed and turned in the hotel bed, unable to get comfortable. I stared at the ceiling waiting impatiently to hear that she had landed safely in the US. Frustrated, I raided the room’s minibar and was pouring myself a rum and coke when my cellphone chirped at me with a text from Amy.

“Just landed. Missing the hell out of you already. Love you.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, I sent back my reply. “We’ll be together again soon. Just not soon enough. Love you, too. This is going to take forever.”

“Did you find my present?” Present? I glanced around the room. Was I missing something?

“Present?” I sent back.

“I left a memento in your suitcase. ;)”

I walked over to my suitcase and dug around in it for a moment. I didn’t see anything that shouldn’t have been there. After a little reflection, I did notice something missing though.

“Did you steal my dress shirt?” I sent.

“… maybe.” I started chuckling when I saw her reply.

“Brat.”

“I left something in return. You didn’t see it?”

I went back to the suitcase and dug some more. I found the black pair of panties she’d worn the night before shoved in the pocket of my dress slacks.

“Found ’em.”

“Just something to remind you of me until we can be together again. ;)”

“Tease.”

“Yep. Guilty. Not sorry, either. I’m going to sleep in this shirt every night. I won’t ask you to do the same with my underwear. Unless you want to, that is.”

“Not happening.” I smirked as I sent my reply.

“Damn. A girl can dream.”

“New fetish?”

“Nope. I’ve got plenty of those already. Funny thing is, they all involve my big brother.”

“You’re going to make this last bit of time apart as hard as you can, aren’t you?”

“I like making it hard.”Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

“Still a damned tease.” I smirked as I sent the reply.

A few moments later, an image arrived. Chuckling to myself, as I remembered her photos that she had sent me from Rome, years before, I clicked the image file to open it. It was a photo taken in what appeared to be a bathroom. Her torso was in the photo, covered only by my dress shirt which was left unbuttoned. The curve of her breasts and the space between them was clearly visible in the photo, but her nipples remained covered by the shirt. It was sexy as hell.

The phone vibrated again with another text.

“Feeling teased yet?”

“Definitely.”

“Good. I’m at my car now, gotta drive home. Goodnight, love.”

“Goodnight, beautiful.”

I plugged my phone into the charger on the nightstand and double checked the alarm. Swallowing the last of my rum and coke, I kicked back on the bed to try to sleep. It took a while, but I eventually drifted off.

* * *

By the time we got back home in Milos, the London gallery had sold several of my pieces, even at the insanely inflated prices. Theron gave me a smug grin at the news and I had to admit defeat on the pricing argument. The gallery also had multiple requests from other galleries trying to reach out to me for possible shows, just as Theron had predicted.

Theron pointed out that I was now in the kind of position as an artist that I needed to get representation. He offered to set me up for a meeting with his agent, and I gratefully accepted the help. I had no idea how to even begin to navigate the intricacies of arranging showings and contracts with galleries, much less when dealing with them in multiple countries. Offers were coming in from Germany, Italy, and France already. It had not even been a full week yet. How the hell was this happening? My mind boggled.

Theron and Margaret just beamed at me like proud parents while I stared at them incredulously.

“I told you that it was only a matter of time, Adam.” Theron grinned over dinner that evening.

“You did. But it’s just crazy. I mean, damn. Surely, they’ll figure out it’s a fluke and pull the offers, right? I mean, there’s no way my stuff’s going to be hanging all over Europe like that.” I was still mystified by the whole thing.

“It doesn’t really work like that. The real trick is, you can’t let it go to your head when things get rolling. Don’t go spending all kinds of money on stupid shit. Save it. Invest it. Don’t be that guy that starts making money and spending it just as fast, you know?” He advised.

“If it came to that, Amy could probably help. She’s got a degree in finance. I’m sure she would have some investment ideas. I don’t know anything about that kind of stuff. If, by some chance, I wind up making decent money at this, I don’t see myself blowing it all anyway. But I do hear what you’re saying. I appreciate the advice.”

“You’ve already made more from the London show than the last three years combined and it’s only the first week. Things are going to start happening faster now. You need to be ready for it.”

“Jesus.” I needed a beer.

Theron and I met with his agent, Damian, in Athens a few days later. After going over the details of what help he could offer me, we argued a bit over his percentage. I signed some paperwork and we shook hands. I walked out of the meeting with an agent. I was now an artist with representation. Damn.

I messaged Amy that the meeting had been successful, hoping that I didn’t wake her up. The ten hour time difference meant it was still in the middle of the night in Portland.

I spent the next couple of days cleaning up the apartment and repainting over a failed mural attempt that I had been tinkering with on one wall of the living area. Margaret was a little upset with me for painting over it, knowing how many hours I had sunk into the project. She was amused at how much work I put into trying to make the small apartment look less like a bachelor pad.

“You think Amy is going to care one bit about what the place looks like after so long apart?” She asked me.

“Probably not, but I’d like her to at least be comfortable here. I checked out the rent house at the end of the block again yesterday. I think it may be a real possibility if all goes well.”

“Talking about moving out again? We’ve told you that you are more than welcome here as long as you like.” She sounded exasperated.

“My stuff fits here just fine right now, but once I get the rest of my stuff shipped from Texas as well as Amy’s stuff, it’s going to be more than cramped. Trust me. You’ve never seen her closets. We’ll need the space.” I was being serious, but couldn’t help grinning at Margaret’s smirk.

“You may have a point there.” She conceded as she glanced at the lone closet in the apartment. “It really isn’t a very big space.”

* * *

I finally returned to my home town a few days later. It was a short, overnight trip to pack and ship my remaining possessions from the storage building that I had been sending Dr. Miller money to maintain for me while I was away. I did not expect to see Austin again after this, having no further reason to be there in my estimation. It felt really strange to be back, but it didn’t feel like the horror show of an existence that it had been when I left. Unlike before, I didn’t feel a cloud of doom over me with every step. Amy and I discussed going to Austin together to talk to our mother about her leaving the country to be with me, but had decided against it.

I originally planned to rent a car, but realized that my driver’s license had expired while I was abroad. Resigned to my fate, I took a cab to a favorite diner to grab some lunch before I got busy with the things I needed to take care of. I was midway through what I thought might be the best cheeseburger I’d ever had in my life, while answering an email from my new agent about a possible show in Berlin when I saw my mother walk into the diner with two of her friends. I had been in the country for all of three hours and I had already managed to step in shit. God damn it. I stared down at my phone, hoping she wouldn’t see me.

“Adam!” My mother exhaled, excusing herself from her friends to walk over to my table. Screw every possible moment of my life, I thought to myself. I had no idea what I was going to say to her.

I looked up at her, genuinely unsure of what to say.

“Hi.” I said, with a little apprehension. To be fair, she looked as apprehensive as I felt.

“How have you been?” I asked, feeling about as awkward as one could.

“Um.. Okay, I suppose. And you?” She asked.

“I am… Probably the best I’ve been in a long time,” I paused. “This is really weird, mom. Do you want to sit?”

I pointed at the red chair across from me.

She sat in the chair and looked me over. She looked like a sea of emotions were boiling behind her eyes. I was suddenly glad that we were in a public place.

“You have gotten really tan. Are you working construction or something? What do you do?”

“I mostly paint.” I looked at my arms. Had I really gotten that tan? Amy had told me the same thing. Weird.

“Houses?”