“I bought them from a gallery showing, probably eight or nine years ago.” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and admired the art alongside Donny.
“Who painted them?”
“Oh, a young kid. I haven’t seen much from him lately. Roland Wilson, I think his name was.”
Donny choked. “I’m sorry. Who?”
“Roland Wilson." Gabriel pointed down at a tiny RW in the corner of the canvas.
There was no way. There had to be more than one Roland Wilson. If this was whathisRoland was trying to get out, no wonder he was so angry and frustrated. These canvases were near perfection, and evoked a visceral feeling inside of Donny— and wasn’t that what every artist hoped to accomplish? To communicate with someone through their art? To touch them and speak to them…
“You okay?” Gabriel asked, tapping him on the back.
“Yeah, yeah. I just… I think I know him,” Donny choked out.
“Hmn.” Gabriel pushed his lower lip out slightly, then turned and went back to the kitchen.
Donny lingered, doing his best to commit the colors to memory.
“Donny! Lunch!” Athena hollered from the kitchen.
He finally made his way into the bathroom, and he then ventured to the kitchen and pulled out a chair to sit. He didn’t hear a word of what was said between Athena, Joel and Gabriel. All he could think about was Roland’s paintings. The art spoke to Donny and obviously Gabriel too, since he’d bought them. Until now, Donny had just wanted Roland to sort himself out for selfish reasons, but now it was for a greater good. If this was what Roland was capable of creating nearly a decade ago, if he could just break through himself now…
After they ate, Donny made it through Beverly Hills in record time, and pulled into the guest parking at Roland’s penthouse. He saluted the doorman as he passed, then keyed Roland’s code into the elevators. Donny was nearly jumping out of his skin. It felt as though it was imperative he talk to Roland, to find out what inspired him, what he saw in his head when he created those perfect fucking sunsets. Donny wanted to know why it used to be easier for him.
The elevator doors opened and Donny raised his hand to knock on Roland’s door, but as his knuckles connected, the door fell open.
“Roland?” Donny stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
“What?” came a slurred reply from the other side of the kitchen island. Donny looked over and didn’t see anything, but then saw the end of Pete’s glitter fish cat toy dart out and swipe back along the floor. Pete came sliding out from behind the island, far too late to grab the fish between his paws, then he scampered back out of sight.
Donny walked around the island and found Roland on the ground with Pete bouncing back and forth between his legs. Roland looked up and saw Donny, then his hand reached out to his left as he tried to obscure something from Donny’s vision.
The something, Donny realized, as it fell and clattered on the floor, was an empty bottle of vodka. Roland was drunk. Again. And it was barely after noon.
“Seriously?” Donny was furious. “I gave you another chance, Roland, and you go do the same fucking shit again?”
Roland looked up at him with a level of incredulousness specifically reserved for people who were three sheets to the wind.
“I didn’t do the same shit. What do you mean?” Roland slurred at him, dangling the cat toy in front of Pete who eagerly jumped up to swat at it.
“You’re fucking drunk, Roland!” Donny fisted his hands at his sides then folded his fingers together and raised them to his mouth, tapping his thumbs against his lips.
“Maybe, but Pete’s fine, so it’s different,” Roland replied, smirking like he was fucking brilliant.
“Pete’s fine, so it’s different,” Donny repeated, dropping his hands to his sides.
“Yes.” Roland nodded. “You were gone and so he had his medicine then he ate and we’ve been right here playing. I’ve been taking good care of him. Haven’t I, Pete? You tell him.” Roland looked proud and he patted the cat on top of his head.
Donny scrubbed his hands over his face and grunted out a frustrated noise before turning around and stalking onto the balcony, slamming the door closed behind him.
Chapter 15
The Last Promise
Roland is sittingon the floor of his apartment, his back to the wall and his head is cradled in his hands. He is painfully aware of the sounds that every door in his apartment make when they slam closed, thanks to Cody tearing through the apartment and slamming them all closed as he comes and goes.
“Are you just going to sit in there and pretend this isn’t happening?” Cody yells down the hallway at him. Roland looks up but doesn’t move away from the wall.
