Page 9 of Hide From Me

Valet? Cali’s words came back to me. Right. Invite only. Super rich. I rolled my eyes and got out.

“Oh wait,” I said as I reached back in for my bag. “I can’t leave my camera, now can I?”

He nodded, but I was already trying to focus on not tripping in the shoes. My downstairs neighbor, the old lady who ran the Dove coffee shop next door, had brought up a package that had accidentally been delivered to her. It had led to a lot of tsks and offering to get me ready. And now, I was grateful for her help with my hair. For being so old, she seemed to have steadier hands than I ever did and had tendrils framing my face. Her work made it to where walking into this place, I didn’t look out of place, regardless of the trembling that accompanied every step.

Tonight was a pile of firsts. And it wasn’t just this place. My aunt had never been a warm woman, always mad that she had to raise a teenager. I’d grown used to relying on myself. It had to be a sign to have a total stranger show me kindness. I needed this to work out. I needed the money. The raging storm of nerves in my stomach forgot all about the kindness though, as I click-clacked my ass up to the massive doors. Before I could reach out though, the door opened, giving me a view of the dark vestibule.

“Miss Klein, right this way.”

I turned to the voice and saw the guy who had opened the door. He was tattooed and menacing looking, but in a suit. I wondered if the Spectors hired out themselves for services like security because this guy, for sure, was the matching half to the guy out front.

“Uh, okay. Thanks?”

He led me through another set of doors, out of the dark, and opened into a properly lit gallery. Or, well, properly lit if you were the artwork. The lights were otherwise odd colors and placed at odd angles. Eccentric was the only word I could come up with. I watched a server with a tray of champagne. I’d defiantly stepped into an alternate universe.

“So, do I just take pictures of the art? Any specific requirements? Are these being submitted to anything?”

The guy that had accompanied me stopped at a particularly haunting piece of work.

“The boss said to give you free rein. He will require you to sign this NDA, but otherwise, you are free to photograph the art and the event itself. Our clientele requires anonymity, hence the masks.”

It was then that I looked around and realized everyone, and I mean everyone, had on a mask. Everyone but me.

“Oh, I forgot. Hold on.”

I reached into my camera bag. I’d at least tried to be somewhat organized. I couldn’t drive with the thing on, but I also hadn’t expected to have my car parked for me. Happy coincidence, I guess, that I’d tucked the delicate lacy thing in the front pocket.

I gently tried to flatten it and straighten it all out before I brought it to my eyes.

“Hey, can you?—”

I broke off when I realized the guy was gone. Of course he was. Right.

I looked around and realized this place had lots of nooks and crannies, and I wasn’t sure, but it was probably for the whims of the artists.

I shuffled to the side and put the bag down at my feet as I tried to tie the mask without ruining my curls.

I jumped as a warm hand lay over mine, stopping me.

“Allow me.”

I shivered at the sound of his voice.

“Sure. Thanks.”

I dropped my hands and let the man tie on the mask. The dress seemed rather thin. His body so close, his heat seeped in through the fabric. I swallowed at the idea of a stranger so close that I could practically feel him against me. He wasn’t though. He was just closer than any man had gotten to me without up and disappearing the next day.

“Beautiful.”

I couldn’t remember how to breathe as his warm hand slid down my neck, over my shoulder, down towards the fabric?—

“Wait, no, stop that.”

I turned to slap him, but he caught my wrist. We were already in a darker space of the gallery, and no one could see that I was here, let alone in distress. His hand squeezed my wrist just this side of hard, and the idea of what that strength could do had my mouth going dry. I took in the mask that he wore. White, with a cutout just for his mouth. Black and red streaks ran over it in patterns with no purpose. He was different from the others I’d only glanced at. He seemed edgy, dark. And then I met his eyes.

Those eyes were so familiar.

Before I could ask more questions or say anything at all, he used that strength and pulled me closer, twisting me to his will. My ass was flush against him this time, my back pressed against a hard body, my arm pinning me to him as he held me tight. It wasn’t painful, but I was at his disposal. I should be panickingright now. I should be really, really worried that this was going to suck, and I wouldn’t get paid, and I’d be going home with a few more memories than I’d expected.