Something Gained

Chapter 7

Damien:

Listening to Derek prattle on about margins and good business, I began to wish I had left him behind. He was good at the numbers stuff and was usually a decent enough sounding board when I needed to bounce ideas, but god was he boring. I often wished I had someone a little lighter around, someone who could live a little without always having to worry about the next matter of business to attend to. Someone like her. She hadn't given me a name, real or fake. She had just vanished back into the party like a whisper in the wind, leaving me to wonder if she was even real. Maybe she was just a figment of my alcohol-addled brain dreaming of something other than what my world had to offer me. I could have women, sometimes more than one at a time, but her... she was different. The way her body moved against mine, as if just for a moment she had allowed herself to be free. The way those eyes fluttered closed as her release washed over her. She was a sight. A sight that, since that night, I had replayed over and over again in my mind, as though if I thought back hard enough, she might appear. That night, I had called her an angel and she was. I had seen many dark things in my life, things that, if I allowed them, would torture me to no end, but that wasn't an option. Not in my world, not in my business. You had to be cold, uncaring, willing to do whatever it takes. My father had been Colton Shaw, the head of the biggest underground crime syndicate in the city, although some would argue his international connections ran just as deep. Five years ago, he was found dead at the scene of a backstreet poker game with a single gunshot wound to the head. Nobody really knew what went down that night and anybody that had an idea knew better than to open their big mouths. Now, as my father's only son, I ran the show. Times had changed, and I had made a lot of changes to how the organization was ran. People that weren't in the scene simply knew me as Mr Shaw, a big-time investor and clever businessman. I was respected and treated as such. Even in the legitimate world, no one dared go against me. In the underworld, as I called it, people didn't just respect me, they feared me and rightly so. I may have made changes to the way the business appeared to outsiders and added a little class to how things ran, but business was business and people knew I heavily enforced that rule. I'd had a few advisers before Derek, but they lacked either the brains or the ability to keep their mouths shut, so they had to be let go permanently. They had no families, no one that would miss them or search for them, so eventually they just ceased to be. It wasn't a part of my job I particularly enjoyed, but it was how things had to be if I wanted to be the one to survive without a bullet in the back of my head. Derek was simple. He had been a long-time friend of my father's, he knew how things ran and, despite the things he'd seen or even been a part of he never looked like a ruthless thug. He carried an air of class that helped to polish off the legitimate look of things. Boring or not, I needed him. Tonight was the night of an investment meeting I had prepared for a local gallery. I had heard that they had lost other available funding and were close to having to close down. With my funding they would be able to stay open, and I would have access to potentially valuable pieces of art as well as a sealed and vaulted basement and a collection of trucks and vans used to collect and distribute gallery property. It was an easy return both legitimately and criminally and would add another pin in the map that belonged to me and my organization.

All I needed was to meet with one of the gallery's co-ordinators to view some of the latest works and that would determine whether it was a place I wanted to put my name to. From the outside, the place looked a little drab and for a moment I had to double-check with Derek to make sure we were in the right place. Didn't they know I was coming tonight? Whoever this Miss Bellamy was, she surely hadn't overseen the outside promotion of this place to a standard that was good enough for the general public, let alone potential investors. Maybe I was making a mistake.

As I stepped inside the venue I found that I was beginning to eat my words. The decor brought a twenties glam to the room that conveyed a certain warmth throughout. The lighting had been kept soft and golden, which left room for the focus to be kept on the actual artwork. Hmph. Not so bad after all, I thought. Looking at my watch, I noted that I had a few minutes before the meeting began, so I decided to enjoy the current exhibition to kill the remainder of the time. My eyes scanned the room, struggling to find a piece that really stood out to me. There was no passion in these works, like they had been painted purely for the sake of them being here. I was about to give in and head for the door when one piece caught my eye. It was simple with just two subjects. A man and a woman standing on a bridge. There's nothing bold about it, no one else seems to pay it any mind, but to me, it holds a familiarity. The woman stands higher on the lip looking over, but there's no excitement behind her eyes. She looks almost... sad. Like even with the man next to her, she feels alone. Just as I'm about to take a step closer, I feel a hand on my shoulder forcing me to turn. "Just couldn't keep away, huh?" she smiles. Confusion laces my features as I wonder what she's doing here. Of course, she's the type to appreciate such beautiful things. She's here, and more importantly...

"So you are real", I chuckle and now it's her turn to be confused. She listens intently as I explain that I was pretty out of it that night and I watch as her cheeks redden at every compliment I lay upon her. So sweet. So sensitive. She seems disappointed when I tell her I'm here to meet someone and I consider clarifying my position. She thinks I'm here for a date. As if anyone could compare to that beautiful face. As soon as the smile has disappeared from her lips, I find myself wanting to bring it back and so I decide to introduce myself. A strange thing since she already knows me more intimately than most.

"Well Damien, it was nice to officially meet you" she mutters, and just like that she's gone again, weaving her way through the crowd until she's out of sight. I want to follow, to demand a name, to ask how she could just forget me when she's been nothing but the bane of my thoughts since that night. Instead, I forced myself to walk the other way. It's time for my meeting and I despise tardiness more than most other indiscretions. When I step into Miss Bellamy's office I'm irked to find it empty. I want to get this meeting out of the way and get back to the exhibition. Back to her. I didn't know when my priorities had shifted, but what I did know more than anything else was that I had to know her...