His chest heaving, Cosmo backpedaled, a hand to his throat. Not here too. Was there nothing Zedd couldn’t taint?
He couldn’t get into a fight with Zedd in a new place of work. And he sincerely doubted Clarence had the fire and defensiveness Royce did to drive his ex away.
Cosmo’s stomach dropped. He didn’t want to think about Royce.OrZedd.
The envelope crinkled as Cosmo felt for it. He thought of the hickey on his neck, of Micah whispering that he wanted Cosmo to leave tracks all over his heart. Zedd wasnotgoing to ruin this, no matter how angry he was. This was Cosmo’s life, and he wasn’t beholden to anyone.
Stepping around the corner and steadying himself against the wall, he strained for the tell-tale clomp of Zedd’s leather boots, but was met only with the soft chatter of visitors admiring an exhibit. Maybe he wouldn’t show. That sense of presque vu meant something had changed slightly. Zedd had confronted Cosmo on the original timeline, but maybe he wouldn’t show in the parallel one here. Or maybe, like the first kiss with Micah, the events would arrive at a different time, and Zedd would pop up tomorrow. Or the next day. Or the day after that.
Cosmo made a noise in his throat. Why was Zedd so upset anyway? Over the Flashbulb pictures? He reached harder into the adjacent memory, fishing for the words Zedd hurled.
Zedd’s hot breath buffeted his face, his eyes watery and jaw tight as he pressed Cosmo into the wall.Just stop. Tell him to stop, and I’ll leave you alone. I swear to God.An involuntary shiver ran through Cosmo’s body as he tried to shake away the memory of his other self. This again. Goddamn it. Screw him! Micah wasn’t going to stop seeing Cosmo, and that was a fact Zedd would have to deal with.
A hand grazed Cosmo’s elbow, and he screamed. The sound echoed, and visitors turned his way.
Clarence frowned at him, then pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “If you’re quite finished, er, standing in the hallway, we have work to get done.”
18
ARTISTS ONLY
Micah - Snagged Thread
The phone rang for a second time. Normally Micah never hesitated to pick up – a call meant someone on the other end to talk to, no matter who it was. But Cosmo had known this call was coming, and Micah didn’t think it had anything to do with presque vu.
“Important” could mean any number of things. Cosmo had so many connections to the art world; it could be a potential new commission. His stomach clenched – or maybe it was a therapy appointment.
He couldn’t just let it ring. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Micah Wildsmith?”
“Yes.”
“Micah, my name is Simone Green, gallerist of Night Gallery. How are you today?”
Oh god. Did something happen? “I’m– I’m good. Is Cosmo okay?”
“What? Oh! Yes, he’s fine. I hope I didn’t give you a scare. I’m calling because I’ve reviewed your portfolio and love your work. Cosmo showed me additional portraits on your Flashbulb, and they’re fabulous. I’d like to offer you representation. Night Gallery has a loyal…”
A gallery wanted to represent him. Finally! Simone mentioned the particulars of their clientele, commission profits, how his art would be displayed and the exposure and supporthe could expect, but all Micah could think was that he should have sent Cosmo a hundred-dollar gift certificate instead.
Knowing Cosmo had talked Micah up and influenced Simone’s decision added an extra layer of anxiety to seem impressive, and he’d already creeped out his landscape client today.
“Does that sound like it would be a good fit for you?” Simone asked. “If so, I’d love for you to come down at your earliest convenience and look over the contract.”
“Uh, yes. That sounds great. I can be there today.” He couldn’t remember what cut of the commissions she’d said the gallery would get, but it was likely standard, and galleries marked up artwork much higher than a freelance artist would, so even after fees, the artist often made more than they would on their own. It would all be in the contract anyway.
“In addition, we have an artist reception next week that Cosmo thinks you’d be perfect for. I would love to have you live draw me during the event, and this would be a paid commission of–”
Micah dropped the phone. It hit the desk and tumbled across the carpet. His heartbeat crashed in his ears. He couldn’t draw live models anymore. Hadn’t he told Cosmo that? Surely he did. Why else would Micah be on the phone, begging random people to describe themselves? It was true that he hadn’t actually tried to draw an in-person model again since the assault, but the very idea made him break out in a cold sweat.
Simone’s voice drifted from the phone. “Micah? Are you still there?”
He picked it up, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m here, yes. Sorry. Listen, I appreciate the offer, but I think drawing you in a public setting is going to be a little out of my comfort zone.”
“Oh…” Her voice sank. “That’s too bad. I don’t want to pressure you at all, but perhaps we can talk about it more when you get here? All of our clientele are lovely and laidback, and I’m sure we could work out something to make it as stress-free as possible.”
Shit. Shit. Cosmo had told Simone that Micah was perfect for this, and now he was making himself look like a bad fit. He might not lose the offer of rep, but he didn’t want to doanything that would reflect poorly on Cosmo. He’d only just started there. Micah had never been one to believe in a predetermined destiny, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t how the universe worked. They shouldn’t have been able to make a parallel universe – a snagged thread. If that thread was trying to course-correct, and Cosmo wasn’t supposed to be working for Night Gallery, destiny might try to pull him back to working under Royce, no matter how hard he tried to leave.
