Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

Jon was in town for most op April, because they had almost a full month off touring but that didn’t mean he wasn’t busy with whatever rock stars could be busy with in their time off. Georgia herself also realised for the first time how busy her own life really was. They spent weeks trying to see each other but in the meantime all they got done was telephone sex and a lot of dirty texts. And even though she had to admit they were pretty good at that, it was far from satisfying. It was therefore extra ironic that they eventually managed to run in to each other unplanned.

One warm afternoon in late April Georgia walked to the subway after satisfying rehearsals and she passed the old sugar factory. A beautiful old stone building that was often used for expositions and art exhibitions that Georgia loved to visit. Her attention was dragged towards a piece of paper on the heavy doors that announced an exposition by New York City’s best photographers. While she read the info she suddenly remembered a voicemail she had forgotten about until then. A friend of hers, Charlie Harvey, was exhibiting a series of portraits he shot of her while she had been rehearsing for Swan Lake, last winter. When he first took the photos he didn’t mean to do anything with it. It was just for fun, because he was waiting for her to finish as they were going out for a drink or something. But then they turned out to be impressively good and he decided that was what he wanted to show on this exhibition. Tonight was the official opening and he invited her a week or so earlier. And she knew she had to show up because it would mean the world to him. The poster told her she was expected at seven. It was now four, so if she wanted to be there on time she had to hurry. Once again.

As she squeezed herself inside the crowded train she managed to get her phone out to call Charlie. She apologized and told him she was going to be there.

“Thank God, I was so stressed out, I would have looked like a complete fool if the star of my portraits wouldn’t even be there to be extremely positive about me,” he said and she felt really guilty. She had always been chaotic and unorganised and it wouldn’t have been the first time that she unintentionally let someone down. She apologised a thousand times more and Charlie kept saying he didn’t care as long as she would be there. She hung up and promised herself she should really try to be a better friend for the few people that she had left in life.

Before she went home she got herself a take-away noodle meal and ate that at the dining table quickly, as she tried to decide what she was going to wear this time. As far as she knew there was no dress code and definitely no Jon Bon Jovi to impress, so she decided a simple dress would do.

She eventually picked a clinging long-sleeved  taupe mini dress and teamed it with a black studded belt low on her waist. She put on black biker boots and straightened her hair. As she looked in the mirror, ready to go at around 20 to 7, she decided she looked artistic enough to attend the event.  

The street in front of the factory was really crowded when she got out of the cab. She stepped aside to let other guests go first as she searched for the invitation in her purse. When she found it, the lady at the door who checked her named on a clipboard, gave her a brochure and a map with artists and matching numbers. Inside Georgia handed her leather jacket to a clerk and searched for Charlie on the map. His portraits had a prominent place on the right side of the first floor of the building and it was impossible to miss it, once she climbed the stairs. Charlie waved at her from a distance as soon as he saw her and she smiled.  She met Charlie in a club years ago, before he admitted he was actually gay and tried to get her attention. He was a really attractive guy though and definitely a little different and mysterious, like most creative people. Tonight he wore black skinny jeans, pointy black varnished shoes and an oversized tartan patterned blazer. He was talking to someone and excused himself. “Georgia, honey I am so glad to see you here, you look gorgeous as always.” Then he turned to point at the man he had been talking to. “And I just sold another of your portraits to that man over there. He’s a fan of my work and his wife used to be a ballerina,” he explained excitedly and Georgia smiled.

They never officially went out because Georgia was eventually the first one he turned to to admit he was gay. In fact, he told her she was the reason why he found out. Because, he said: “If I can’t even get myself to have sex with you, I can’t be heterosexual.” And that had become the start of their friendship. They didn’t see each other a lot but Georgia always loved to meet up with him.

“Am I allowed to walk around, or do you expect me to stand here and smile at your potential costumers all evening?” she said and he pressed a kiss on her cheek.

“No go and be beautiful, but try to tell people about my work whenever you can!” Georgia turned around to look at the people getting together in front of his photos. “Doesn’t seem like you need my help with that, but I’ll try my best sweetie.”

***

She stood only two portraits away from his wife and him when he saw her. She looked gorgeous in a curve hugging dress that showed him a lot of that precious white skin of hers. He knew that it would only be a matter of seconds before she would look up and see him and all he could think of was that his wife was holding his hand. The photos they had been looking at were amazing and he was just about to see if he could talk to the photographer when he found her instead. He excused himself from his wife, who was still looking at their favourite piece and walked over to her.

She seemed mesmerized by a photo of the Northern Lights and didn’t notice him until he put a hand on her shoulder. She turned around with a smile and he saw the shock in her eyes when she recognised him. It was the first time they saw each other in real life since that evening in the car and he now knew he still wasted a lot of timing hoping the feeling would go away eventually. Despite what he told her that night he still tried to fight it silently. He was a slow learner.

“What the hell are you here for?!” was how she greeted him that night and he chuckled.

“It’s nice to see you too,” he replied and she looked down for a second. “Sorry.”

He shook his head and looked at his wife from the corner of his eye. She hadn’t seen him yet.

“It’s okay, this wasn’t exactly the way I imagined our next meeting would be like.”

“So you had fantasies about that, hadn’t you?” she said. He smiled and wisely chose to ignore that comment.

She didn’t know what else to say but who could blame her for feeling just a little overwhelmed. The fact that he showed up in public, completely unexpected had shocked her to say the least. It was weird to be with him amongst all those people while there was so much going on between the two of them that nobody could ever know of. This wasn’t Chicago where hotel walls could keep them safe and neither would the blinded windows  of one of his expensive cars. This was real life. And before either of them could say another thing a tall dark haired woman showed up beside him.

Georgia didn’t need any introduction to know who she was, and as she looked at him she knew she was right.

Alright, she thought, you said real life? Here you have it. Meanwhile she told herself to keep breathing and she smiled at the woman. Georgia didn’t know what to think of her, when she googled his pictures she hadn’t paid attention to what his wife looked like. Too painful, but she was definitely pretty although also certainly of his age. She had long dark hair and wore a decent modest dress. Somehow not what she expected to be his wife, but on the other hand, it would have been really creepy if he was married to a look-a-like of herself. And she had to admit they looked great together.

As she thought all those things nobody said anything and then Jon seemed to have gotten himself back together. He straightened his back and looked at his wife.

“Dorothea, this is Georgia Wilde, Georgia, this is Dorothea my… wife.”

Georgia felt sick to her stomach as the tall woman reached out her hand and made her grab it.

“Nice to meet you,” she managed to say and when Dorothea looked away then, she pulled a tortured face at Jon. Judging on the look in his eyes he didn’t seem to feel much better about himself either. However, while all Georgia wanted to do was disappear, Jon decided he had to keep the conversation going.

“So, Georgia, what are you here for? Any particular artists?” She hated him at that moment. And she hated herself. This woman had no clue, who did they think they were?

“I love expositions in general,” she said, “but I am here on invitation tonight. One of the photographers exhibits a series of photos we did together.”

When Jon looked at her she saw the surprise in his eyes. If they were alone she would have definitely made a comment about it but now that would have only been inappropriate. As far as Dorothea knew she was just one of those thousands of people he happened to know, and although that hurt, it was better to keep it that way. Meanwhile Dorothea decided to make it worse.

“I would love to see those,” she said.

“It’s right across the hall, the name of the photographer is Charlie Harvey, he’s a friend of mine,” she said wishing they would at least leave.

“We are here on invitation as well. One of my friends has an exposition too,” Dorothea continued, while meanwhile Georgia could no longer ignore the tension rising to a whole different level between her and Jon. It was almost impossible that the wife didn’t notice anything, but nothing on her betrayed anything. Georgia was really disgusted with herself at that moment. The brunette seemed so happy with that man while she had fucked him like she never fucked anyone before.

“Oh really, who is it?” she said and promised herself she was going to kill Charlie if he happened to be that friend of the woman who was still holding the hand of her…

… she stopped herself. Yes, Georgia, your what? Stay focussed for fuck’s sake.

“Patricia Adams,” the wife answered and Georgia sighed relieved while she reminded herself  of the fact that this wasn’t some kind of cheap novel where coincidences like that could happen all the time.

“Alright well,” she said then, “have a great time. I’m gonna go downstairs to check out some other artists. There are some very talented photographers exhibiting this time, don’t you think?” she said and wondered why the hell she was talking so much, out of a sudden. The wife agreed with her, Jon just stood there and nodded.

“Nice to see you Georgia,” he said and was able to give it a little more meaning than anyone else would notice.

She watched them walk away and turned around to go downstairs, straight to the bathroom, to lock herself there.

While Jon and his wife made their way over to where Georgia’s photos were, Dorothea looked up at him and asked who she was. “Georgia Wilde,” he repeated and thought it was best to only answer the questions she really asked. “Where do you know her from?”

Jon wondered if he was allowed to wonder if Dorothea was being suspicious. The answer would probably be no.

“We met at the benefit in Chicago, you know for the Soul Foundation she is a ballet dancer and we had a little chat.”

Alright so, that wasn’t a lie, but just not the whole truth either. It were just the most important and disturbing bits that were missing.

While they stood and looked at an impressive series of black and white photos of her, he decided there was no chance of him going to heaven anymore. He took his wife to an exhibition with photos of his mistress, and whatever else she was to him at that point. He couldn’t even find the words to describe how wrong that really was.

“These are amazing, she must be talented,” Dorothea concluded and looked at him. All he could do was nod, uncertain of what his voice would sound like if he spoke. He stared at the picture they were standing in front of at that moment. She was dressed in a leotard and a tutu above wool legwarmers around which she had wrapped the silk ribbons of her shoes. She curved her back and balanced on the tip of her toes while her arms were arched above her head. She was looking away from the camera so all he could see was the messy bun on top of her head and the outlines of the face he already knew so well.

Even looking at the picture was enough to make him long for her. It had been weeks since he last touched that body. He felt the pressure of Dorothea’s hand in his.

“Her gracefulness is impressive, we should go see her perform sometime?” his wife dragged him back to reality and he looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t even like ballet,” he mumbled and she looked at him. “You seemed to do when Tico and Alejandera took us to see Swan Lake last year.”

Tico was that kind of man. He loved every kind of art and was always interested in discovering the undiscovered. When Jon eventually accepted his invitation for the NYC ballet it was the music that made him do so, but now he thought about it, there was a good chance that Georgia had performed in that piece.

“I only said that to please them,” he mumbled and pulled at her hand.

“C’mon, let’s see some more.”