Straddling the Line - By Sarah M. Anderson Page 0,48

at Crazy Horse. Flattery would get a girl everywhere. “You’re right. And dinner smells delicious.”

“Thanks!” Gina said brightly. “It’s one of Ben’s favorites.”

In the next fifteen minutes, Josey learned where the cups, forks and plates were; how to turn on both TVs; how to start the treadmill; and which mini-fridge had the red wine and which had the white. She learned how to turn the lights on and off and how to change the music. She even learned where the stairway was—“He only uses the elevator when he’s on the bike,” Gina told her.

She heard about how “the girls,” as they collectively referred to themselves, had met Ben about four years ago at a gallery showing he’d attended with a date.

“First and last time we ever saw that one,” Gina said in a conspiratorial whisper. “She didn’t appreciate art. You do something with a school, right? Don’t tell her I told you, but Patrice loves kids. Quiet ones, anyway. Sometimes, we pack our stuff up and hang out in the cancer ward. Those kids appreciate art. Maybe we could come out to your school? That would be cool. Ben didn’t say if you had an art teacher or not, but everyone should throw paint at a canvas at some point in their lives, don’t you think?”

Josey could only nod along. Gina talked fast. As she shot off ideas and plans at tommy-gun speed, Patrice disappeared into a back room again, carrying Ben’s discarded shirt. “Laundry,” Gina informed her. “Ben doesn’t ‘do’ laundry, but if you need to, it’s back there. Otherwise, Patrice does it when we’re here.”

“And how often are you here?”

“Every other week.” Gina hurried back to the kitchen when a timer went off. “He’ll cook eggs and stuff, but I make dinners he can reheat whenever he gets home and we keep the place clean. He doesn’t charge us much rent at all and doesn’t care who crashes. We’ve got plenty of studio space and no nosy neighbors. As long as we don’t set the joint on fire or do anything illegal, we can stay. We love it here.” She turned a surprisingly stern glare to Josey. “He’s a nice guy, although he doesn’t want anyone to know it. Don’t jerk him around.”

Josey bristled under the implication. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

“Good.” The moment passed, and Gina was off again. She told Josey all about how Ben had let them decorate this place. “When we got here, it was still so a factory. He had a big bed in the corner, but it was awful. All gray. Terrible.”

Like his office. Josey looked at Gina and smiled. “Men and color, huh?”

“Totally,” was the answer she got before Gina was telling Josey how Ben held formal parties for people wearing tuxedos and leathers every so often, and how Gina would make the craziest appetizers she could think of while Patrice and whatever buddies they could gather up walked around with serving trays.

“We met Brad Pitt—pre-break-up. He’d ordered a bike and wanted to come pick it up himself. And Pink—she was so nice!—and even Jack Nicholson.”

“Anarchy,” Patrice called out from somewhere.

“Oh, yeah! The whole cast of that Sons of Anarchy show, too.”

Josey couldn’t help but be impressed. She was standing where Nicholson and Pitt had stood? “Wow.”

Gina nodded enthusiastically. “Ben bitches and moans about Bobby schmoozing, but secretly, he’s just as bad. Looks damn fine in a tux, too. If I weren’t a lesbian…” She got a wistful look in her eye. “Well, maybe not. It’d be like boinking my brother, you know? Ew.”

“Um…”

“Did you see the paintings?” Gina appeared to be completely oblivious to the discomfort she slung around. Luckily, Josey’s mortification was short-lived. Gina talked too darned fast. “Patrice, she does the abstract stuff. She’s really good. She had a gallery show in Denver a few months ago.”

“Wow.” That word seemed appropriate and short enough that Josey could actually get it in edgewise. “How about you?”

“Oh—totally different. I do portraits. Takes me months to get them just right. I’m soooo slow!” This last bit came out as a wail.

“She did the one over there.” Patrice motioned to the library as she walked past Josey with a basket of folded sheets. “It’s Ben’s favorite.”

Gina blew a kiss after her. “You’re so sweet!”

Oh, dear. Josey decided that the best course of action was to go look at the painting before those two got all lovey-dovey again.

The portrait was about the size of a sheet of paper, so it blended in with