Days after Marc Swift stumbled into his cabin, going at it with Irene Nedwick, both of them falling to the floor, tearing off each other’s clothes while Carla waited naked in Marc’s bed, Brian still hadn’t decided how to approach the video maker or what exactly he should say.
What were the rules here? Only decency—the set boundaries even a group of free-wheeling artists assumed. Except Brian wasn’t about to call out Marc as unfair. After all, Brian had grown up in an acutely unfair home. Much, he soon learned, like the world at large. So he had always found laments regarding “fairness” laughable. Yet as the Art Consortium’s director, he needed to tell Marc to stop.
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The situation wasn’t shocking. Brian had known Marc’s reputation when he invited him to teach. He had not anticipated, however, that Marc would whisk away Carla, Brian’s girlfriend. Or that three weeks later he would inflict upon her a scenario (Brian wondered how many video cameras were on) that humiliated her so much that bold and haughty Carla had dashed naked and crying to Angelina’s.
That afternoon, Trevor had knocked on the second-floor bedroom where Polly had tucked Carla in to recoup. She was sipping green tea, the bedcovers at her waist.
Trevor stood still while she put down the tea and pulled the quilt over her heavy breasts. Then he sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed and listened.
Carla had been vain and selfish and wished she could go back to Brian. Trevor told her no. Carla and Brian had already changed directions before Marc Swift arrived.
While sobbing, she managed to say, “You always know what’s going to happen ahead of time. Maybe you have a sense, Trevor. But that’s all. The rest is guessing.” She pressed a tissue against her eyes. “Important stuff? Nobody knows.”
Trevor asked if she wanted to cry on him. He scooted up and held her so that her tears wet his t-shirt. “You want me here, nuh true? Just until you’re through the heartache.” He kissed her forehead and the tip of her nose.
“Everybody’s gossiping about how fat I’m getting and it’s not because of cooking for the arts college. It’s because after Marc and I have sex, I’m always starving. Like I’m going to die if I don’t eat two breakfasts and three dinners.” Carla turned away to blow her nose.
“You’re voluptuous now, Carla. Don’t worry ’bout your beauty. Size makes no difference.”
She sniffled back tears. “Nice to say so, Trevor. Marc laughs at me. I hate to think how Brian sees me. And what will he think if I’m confiding in you like this?”
“Confiding in me, Carla? I wanna make love to you so you don’t feel hungry. So you brim with happiness. And Brian? Brian saw how you felt towards me first thing.”
“I don’t think so.” Carla said, tears still running down her cheeks.
“If not first thing then soon after. I could see him see it. An’ Andrew saw it, too.”
Carla sobbed and trembled. “So embarrassing.”
“No reason to feel that,” Trevor said, shedding his clothes.
Afterward, Carla wept but without sorrow. She wept ecstatic tears. And Trevor studied every part of her, his eyes wide and appreciative. She tasted like the desserts at the Eden Café, he said. Her fingers were key lime pie. Her breasts reminded him of caramel. And between her legs? Wait, it was on the tip of his tongue, and so clear in his mind—berries and sugar.
The same hot afternoon, Brian showed Hailey where they would build the geodesic dome for the next session. “Next semester. Kaya’s certain the UNC will designate us the separate but official arts college.”
They lay on their stomachs facing each other. How exactly this alignment developed between them Brian couldn’t say. Yet face to face in the bright sun, Brian stared at Hailey unabashed. For once he didn’t feel shy. They talked and squeezed each other’s fingertips.
“Does it feel strange being with me when you were Trevor’s girlfriend, longer than almost anyone?”
Hailey fluttered her fingers away from his. “Trevor loves you so much. He doesn’t talk about you at all; it’s one of those things he mysteriously communicates. Brian the Lion.” She laughed and looked up. “So naturally, I was interested in you.”
A shadow crossed Brian’s face. He saw it reflected in Hailey’s eyes. “Trevor must have known that. Remember when the two of you disappeared for five days? He must have wanted you for himself.”
“Trevor?” Hailey laughed. “Since when did he do anything selfish or competitive? If ever only you would know.”
Brian smiled. “No, Trevor has his faults. But selfishness isn’t one of them And competition? I don’t think he has any idea why other people are driven by it. I think he was born without it.”
Hailey split a grass glade between her fingers and gazed directly into Brian’s eyes. “Those five days were spent searching for my brothers. Trevor had heard about Marvin and Leon at the café and spent all that time convincing them he could front a band if they backed him.”
A bigger, unmoving shadow fell over Brian, and over Hailey, too, causing Brian to turn his head. Marc Swift buried his fists in his oversize shorts. “Sorry to interrupt. I’m sorry about what happened.”
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