Chapter Eleven

She doesn't know what's right
She doesn't know what's wrong
She only knows the pain that comes from waiting for so long
And she doesn't count the teardrops
That she's cried while he's away
Because she knows deep in her heart
That he'll be back someday
The Girl From Yesterday
The Eagles

Callestah and Andy barely spoke a few paragraphs to each other over the last few days but today they’d worked side by side hanging her paintings in the gallery and getting all the last minute details in place for her Grand Finale tonight. Along side the paintings of Kanan and Eros and Ares and all of the other dark things she’d pulled out of her head there as one sole bright spot and she hung it on the wall.

“What is that?” Andy asked as he stepped back to look at the portrait of three of the Jackson family members; Daniel Jackson with his infant son and daughter in his arms. “It’s definitely out of place take it down, dahling.”

“No,” she told him. “I like it. You told me to paint something Beautiful so I did.” Callestah straightened the half-canvas painting on the wall and stepped back to admire it. “I’m sorry it doesn’t go with the rest of the show.”

“Ah! That’s beautiful!” A female voice cried from behind them and they both turned to see the owner, Peggy Guggenheim standing there looking at her work. “And I thought all of your pieces were dark and mysterious.” She cooed and walked closer to the portrait. “So lifelike.” She complimented. “He has beautiful eyes, who is he my dear?”

“Thank you.” Callestah said graciously and there was no further discussion about whether the painting stayed or went. It stayed. “Just someone I used to know.” And love very much. Callestah stepped back to admire it with Ms. Guggenheim, yes it was definitely one of her finest works.

“You should be very proud my dear. This evening has been the talk of the town for weeks!” She cooed with a happy smile. “Now is there anything you need? Either of you?”

“No, Peg, we’re fine.” Andy grumbled as he looked at the painting and knew it would stay up for the duration of the show. Oh well, it was something a little different something to break up the rest of the dark themes surrounding her other paintings. Well fuck it! Daniel received his paperwork back by now and the Yankee bastard could just go to hell. He wasn’t here and he wasn’t coming here, he was done with her and she was done with him whether or not she wanted to admit it made no difference to Andrew Hartley. He’d bet Daniel was just seething over the response he’d gotten. Served him right, little bugger.

Day by day Callestah was becoming more and more of a nussance and a bother to him. Every time he turned around she was asking him to kiss her or cuddle with her or fuck her. Like he could stomach such a thing while having to look at those hideous scars and feeling them rub up against his hard tender cock. Yes she was much more trouble than he’d originally thought her to be. But that too was all right. Yes it was. In two weeks they’d pull into New York and she’d be ‘home’ again. A few weeks after that and the auction was slated to go off. In her present condition no one would bat an eye if Callestah the lovely, sexy, vivacious and talented up and coming painter should die of a drug overdose. Nope no one would. The prices for her paintings would go through the roof! Andrew Hartley was about to be a very rich man.

“Right then,” Peggy put her arms out to Callestah. “Break a leg, my dear.” She whispered. “I’ll see you both tonight.” With that the lovely older woman with the warm smile and kind eyes disappeared the way she’d come.

**

Four hours later the sun had set and the limousine arrived at the hotel to pick them up. Callestah took forever to get dressed but finally decided on a very short skirt with those thin stiletto heels, which Andy liked, and a black silk blouse which he went along with since it covered the marks on her skin and still showed off those amazing new tits of hers. All gussied up with many fabulous places to go and people waiting for them they arrived at the opening a half hour late. Or in Andy’s eyes they were right on time.

Giving her a heavy boot in the car—she was now up to three boots a day and no less than 20ccs at a time-- on their way to the gallery Andrew Hartley then escorted her from the back seat of the limousine while photographs snapped pictures and they posed and smiled for the cameras. Reporters shouted out questions but she didn’t answer any of them. If a question were important enough Andy would answer it for her so she didn’t have to be bothered.

The opening was just picture perfect as were the Couple of the Moment. Everyone was all smiles and raves for Callestah and her dark paintings. Andy chatted up those in the know while drinking a cask of white wine and Callestah in her drugged out haze wandered around talking with people she’d never met and probably never see again all while drinking down the pricey champagne that was being offered by the Guggenheim tonight. She kept telling herself as she stood there trying to make small talk and trying to make sense, that this was the last stop. In a few weeks they’d be back in the United States and after the Grand Finale to end all Grand Finales at the New York Museum of Art this whole sorry mess would be behind her. The paintings would sell, she’d pay off Andy and the doctors and whatever bills he’d racked up in her name and they’d go their separate ways. Of course none of that brought Daniel back but it was far too late for that.

A waiter was coming around now and there was a lull in the conversation as those she’d been chatting with wandered off to chat with the others and to admire her work. Callestah put the empty champagne glass down on the silver tray the waiter was holding out and took a fresh one from him. “Lighten your load a little bit,” she said with a smile and drank the glass down in one gulp. “And a little more,” she winked at him and put the empty glass down and picked up another one. Gods! She was so thirsty it was unreal. Standing alone off in the corner she looked around the crowd for Andy and spotted him with his arm around some woman as he chatted her up. Looked like he’d picked one to bring home tonight. Lucky Andy. Surveying the crowd some more and keeping her ears peeled for their comments as they strolled by she saw a man standing alone far down the end of the gallery looking at the portrait of….

“Daniel?” She whispered to herself. She knew that shape. She knew that figure. It couldn’t be. Callestah finished the champagne in the glass and set it down on one of the stands next to her. Smoothing out the short skirt she made a weaving path to where the man was standing with his back to her.

“Callestah! My darling!” Peggy Guggenheim squealed with delight as she crossed her path and cut her off from the man standing a few feet down. “This is absolutely smashing! Congratulations my dear! You’ve made it!” Peggy hugged her in only the way the ultra-rich can hug someone. “You’ve arrived my dear! I hope the view from the top is everything you’ve dreamed it would be.” Letting her go Peggy stepped back. “So tell me, tell me, when we can have your work in our little gallery again?”

“Soon.” Callestah said but she couldn’t take her eyes off the man in the dark blue suit, the one with his back to her. “I’m sorry but I have to go say hello to someone.”

“Of course, dear! Go right ahead! I’ll take with Andrew about booking you, how does early January sound?”

“Lovely,” she returned. “Excuse me.” Again she began making that slow drunken drugged weaving pace toward the man. These shoes were killing her! She couldn’t wait to take them off! Well, now, she reminded herself, that wasn’t altogether true. The shoes were tight and they were flashy and they did make her ankles swell but it was the track marks at the bottom of her feet which made them ache and not the shoes. That just couldn’t be Daniel standing there. It just couldn’t be. It was just a man who’d come to admire her work and he only reminded her of Daniel because she was drunk and stoned and strung out as always. Still slowly she made her way closer to him. Through the alcohol the heroin and the enormous amount of pills she’d swallowed a familiar scent came to her as she neared him. Daniel’s cologne. “Pardon me, I don’t meant to disturb you,” she said quietly as she came up behind him. “It’s just that I thought…maybe….”

The man turned around.

“Daniel!” Calla closed her eyes. When she opened them she expected him to be gone but he wasn’t. “Is it really you, Beautiful?”

Now he could stand there and he could lie to her and in her condition she’d probably even believe him but he hadn’t come all this way to blow it. “Hey, Callie, gud ta see ya.”

“David?” Covering her hand with her mouth and taking a step back she continued to stare at him. “Where’s Daniel?” She looked around to see who might be watching or listening. “What have you done with my husband?”

The End
Tarnished Heroes: Life in the Fast Lane--Calla's Story
By Moon Mistress
a/k/a Lisa Beth Darling

The Tarnished Heroes series is now continued in the Kisses in the Dark Library Vol. II
Or you may go to the next story. Tarnished Heroes: Broadway is Dark Tonight--Daniel's Story

This story and all stories in the Tarnished Heroes series are copyrighted to Lisa Beth Darling these stories may not be transferred outside of this URL in any fashion.