Page 26 of Totally Played (Love In Play #5)

“You didn’t have one for prom?”

“Nope. My date’s father owned an old Mercedes, so he drove us.”

“Hopefully we get to experience a lot of firsts together,” he says, and I think of all the firsts we’ve already shared. Something tells me the limo will be the least exciting of them all.

He opens the door for me, and I climb in and take a seat next to Red just inside the door. Ash sits on my other side.

“Everyone, this is Calvin,” Red immediately introduces me, then goes around the seats to introduce the rest of the people who’ll be filling out his table.

I immediately forget all of their names except for Jennifer, Red’s sister, and Brad, who keeps looking at where Ash and my hands sit clasped against Ash’s thigh, a frown teasing on his brow.

The seats are a warm, deep brown leather and wrap around in a C shape with a full bar on the other long side. Everyone is drinking something, but I just have water, as does Ash.

“So, you play Banana Ball, right?” Jennifer asks, and I nod.

“Yes. Both my twin brother Tony and I play.”

“Oh, you’re a twin, how nice. Do you look the same? Like, are you identical?”

“Yep,” I say, but Ash leans forward to interject.

“They’re not as identical as they think. I can tell them apart, and not just because Calvin is way hotter.”

My cheeks go warm, but in a good way.

“Okay, everyone listen up,” Red starts, clapping his hands a couple of times to quiet down the conversations. “Tonight is for charity, but we’ll also be working, so no getting sloshed, looking at you, Riggs.”

“Hey, it was one time,” he replies, glancing down at the glass of half-finished scotch in his hands. He reaches over and sets it on the bar side.

Red continues. “If any of you can manage to book a meeting with Foxworth, Levingston, MTPS, or Grange, you’ll get two-hundred-and-fifty shares in RED Tech.”

“And if we secure investment with one of them?” Jennifer asks, and Red shrugs.

“I doubt any of you could do that in tonight’s setting, but sure, how about five percent of the investment amount?”

More than half of them put down their drinks. I lean in close to Ash.

“Is that a lot?”

“My contract with DeVos was for three million.”

“That’s like…one hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

“Not a bad bonus, hey?” Red says, lifting his glass. “Of course, it will be paid out in installments over the course of the contract term.”

“Hey, Red, you hiring?” I joke.

“When you’re done playing ball, come see me.”

Ash releases my hand to wrap his arm over my shoulder.

“I’d love seeing you every day.”

“He isn’t serious,” I say, but Ash laughs.

“Yeah, he is. Red is the most serious guy I know. If you want a job after baseball, he’ll hire you.”

I have a degree in Sports Management, but really never expected I would go into coaching. That’s future Calvin’s problem to deal with. Right now, all I want to do is cuddle up with Ash in the back of this enormous limousine.

***

The drive is over way too fast, but if I thought the limo was fancy, it had nothing on this event. The front of the heritage art gallery where it’s being hosted is lit up in a stunning purple and gold design, and the abstract image moving over the stone surface is a mesmerizing pattern.

“This is nuts,” I say as I clutch Ash’s arm, and he leads me up the front stairs to two waiting doormen.

Red is ahead of us and passes them a stack of black cards, our tickets, and we’re counted and ushered inside.

The purple and gold theme continues inside.

Large gold gates sit open, with faux dark green box hedges guiding us to the main room.

The main room has a stage set at the furthest point from us, and large black-clothed dining tables circling a glistening black dance floor in the middle.

Tall centerpieces of floral arrangements with more purple and gold sit on every second table, and on the others, tall glass tubes hold lights submerged in a gold glittery liquid.

We find our seats, and Ash squeezes my thigh.

“You okay?” he asks.

“This is incredible, but…”

“But what?”

“It has to have cost a million dollars, at least to put this on, why not skip all the effort and just donate the money?”

“I used to think the same way, but in addition to the price per plate, the donors coming tonight will probably raise about ten to fifteen times what it cost to put on the event.”

“Seriously? Wow, what charity is this for again?”

“Scholarships at Georgia U. It’s put on about every three years or so, depending on how much they raise.”

“That’s amazing. So who are these big shots we need to schmooze tonight?” I ask, looking over the other arriving guests.

“I’ll let the others talk up Red Tech tonight. I just want to eat amazing food and dance with my boyfriend.”

“I really like it when you call me that,” I say, feeling the warmth swell in my chest at the sound of it.

“This is my amazing boyfriend,” he says much louder, gaining the attention of more than a few people.

“I didn’t say you need to scream it from the rooftops.” I laugh, and he shakes his head.

“I will, though, because every time I say it, I almost don’t believe it’s real.”

“What is?”

“That you’re my boyfriend. I just feel so incredibly lucky to have met you.”

“Me, too.”

***

The night flies past super-fast, eating, dancing, meeting a hundred people whose names I have zero chance of remembering.

They reopen the gallery after the speeches, and I tell Ash I’m just going to go for another short stroll, to get away from the noise for a bit.

He offers to come with me, but Red is waving him over.

“I’m good on my own. I’ll just be a minute,” I say, and he kisses the back of my hand and heads over to join Red and what I expect are potential investors.

None of the team has succeeded in booking a meeting with any of the names Red gave out in the limo. Ash chuckled as we dug into the crème br?lée, celebrating himself for not wasting the night on work. Looks like he might not get out of here completely work-free.

I sit on a bench seat in front of one of my favorite artworks of the night.

It’s an abstract in blue and white, which at first glance you would think is textured, but it’s completely flat.

The artist has created the illusion of textures, and I think that’s what I love most about it.

It looks like something, but it isn’t what it seems. Kind of like me. I laugh and a woman sits beside me.

“I’m not sure my late brother intended humor when he painted this, but I could be wrong. It was so different from his other work. It was his last before…” she says, and my stomach sinks.

“Sorry, I umm, I wasn’t laughing at it. I was…”

“Relax, dear.” She smiles, the lines of many years making that expression deeply etched in her face. “I, like most people, seem to have a sense of sadness from this piece. I’d love to know what you think.”

She looks up at the large canvas, her shoulders relaxing as her head tilts a little to one side. I follow her gaze and try to see the sadness she spoke of, but I don’t get it.

“I’m not an art person, I shouldn’t have—”

“Everyone is an art person. It made you feel something, please,” she repeats, turning to me. “Tell me what you see.”

I’ve been to probably three art galleries in my life, once in junior high, once with an ex-girlfriend who criticized every single one, as if she could do better, and tonight. With Ash.

“I don’t know what your brother was trying to paint, I just…”

“Go ahead.”

“I don’t feel sad when I look at it. I laughed, because I sort of saw me,” I explain, and she returns her gaze to the artwork, as do I.

“How so?”

“I’m a twin,” I start, hoping my explanation comes out in some way that might even be remotely understood.

“We’re identical, and the best of friends, but it’s always been him and me, and while I don’t think people always meant to, they treated us like we were one person.

Like, we didn’t exist without the other.

It was only with each other that we felt really seen.

Tony is my ride or die. He knows me better than anyone.

Or I thought he did. You see, I lived my life up until a few months ago thinking I knew who I was. Then I met Ash.”

“The very tall young man you were dancing with?” she asks, and I smile.

“Yeah. I met him, and suddenly everything I thought I knew about myself changed. I guess that’s what I see in the artwork. It’s like it’s showing us something that it thinks we want to see, but really, it’s something else entirely. That probably makes no sense.”

She stands and takes a few steps closer to the artwork, her head moving slightly as she moves her gaze over it.

“I’ve stared up at this work a hundred different times, thinking I knew it, knew him. But I never saw it that way.”

“I’m probably wrong,” I say, but she shakes her head.

“No, I love what you see. I never really noticed before, but up close, every stroke of the brush is clear, perfectly placed.” She steps back, still watching the artwork.

“The further I am from it, the more the image blurs into textures that don’t really exist. The rough texture there, on the right, from back here looks like shards of metal or glass shining under a cold blue light, but up close, those same lines are soft, rounded tips, warmer hues.

Thank you,” she says, turning to face me, her eyes glassy under the gallery lights.

“Did he create any of the others in here?” I ask, looking at the other works around the room.

“No. And this one is on loan for only another week.”

“I’m glad I got to see it.”

“Me, too. So tell me, how did you meet Ash?”

“How much time do you have? It’s a pretty funny story, actually.”

“Great, I love a good story,” she says, sitting beside me, and I tell her all about the amazing man who changed my life.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Ashley