Art Girls (Lesbian Story)

Chapter 3

After my night last night in California I found myself back in my studio in LA. I was here on the regular and I lived with the only guy that was in my life more than my father.

Kyle.

I was dressed in the complete worst, old shorts and a dingy tanktop that had enough paint spots on it, and my hair was up in a ridiculous bun that I managed to do while It was still dark in the room.

"Are you okay?"
I heard him toss his Keys on the counter.

I turned to him, I obviously looked like a mad man standing here and I didn't want to get his suit ruined by hugging him so I just shook my head and threw my paint brush at the canvas.

"My father, I haven't hugged my father in over a year, and now it's going to be longer"

"He bought us off with money again"

He walked too me gently taking my face in his hands.
"Katie Copeland, that man will never understand, please don't drive yourself mad"

"I - I have no choice, he is my father but where is he?"

"With his husband, and his money and his lifestyle"
Kyle spoke so bluntly.

I pulled away from him and stared out  into the city.
"Leah didn't even get to see him"

"I bet she feels worse than you"

I shrugged
"Cameron , I feel like she doesn't feel accepted"

"Why?"
He asked, sitting down on the couch growing curious.

"expeditions, going on safari's huge adventures, he doesn't see money value so he feels like it's a waste of time"

"Money and values can't buy memories and friends and faces you've met all over the world"

"I know"
I huffed, taking a seat next to him.

"If I was a father I would be so much different"

"But your not a father, your a 17 year old art girl who is caught up In a world that was laid out for her"

"Don't make me sound like I'm a drama queen"

Kyle shook his head fixing his hair
"Your not, your just, your struggling with things that aren't heard of"

"What exactly?"

He bit his lip.
"Your dad can't spend quality time with you so he hands you 4 million dollars and tells you to go wild with it"

"That's not unheard of!"
I shouted

"What 17 year old gets mad because there father gives them 4 million dollars"

"Me"
I spoke slowly, just above a whisper.

Kyle laid out the truth to me. He made me see things. He was the closest thing to a family outside of my sisters and my mother, but even then I didn't see Leah or Cameron everyday, much less my mom.

"How was the art exhibit last night?"
He finally asked.

I sat back in my seat remembering Reagan and the painting.
"It was great, I met a writer named Reagan, I bought her artwork and she blushed more times than I can count"

Kyle smiled lifting his fingers to his mouth as he tried hiding it.
"That's cute"

"Shut up"
I laughed, tossing a couch pillow at him.

"Maybe you'll see her again"

"Reagan Armstrong was her name"

"Never heard of her"
Kyle stood, shaking his head

"Aspiring writer I told you, give her a few years and maybe we will see some novels come out or something"

He nodded pulling out his phone.
"I have to meet my uncle at the mansion in 10 minutes, call me if you need me"

I nodded staring over towards my artwork.
"Have fun"

He shut the door quietly and I was left to my silence. I picked up the wet paintbrush an realized I was creating a image that reminded me of the past few nights. Between my sisters an my mother an my father I had created a mess.

We weren't ever going to become who we were meant to be an live happily as a family. Just like my mother was never quite able to forgive my father for cheating on her for almost two years with Nicholas.

My family was a mess, and I could smear paint all over an in the center in fancy luxurious cursive handwriting id write my family.

You create art through madness.

I was just as broken as Reagan seemed to be last night at the gallery.

She wanted to see the world, and felt like it was at her fingertips, right at her reach and something was holding her back. And if I ever seen her again I would make it my point to understand the story an the meaning behind the painting I bought for her.

Because she would say she wanted to travel, and I would say I was driving the car home, away from the world because I had already seen everything, I had seen the oceans the deserts, I had seen the world an all I wanted to do was go home.

Art had stories.

Reagan an I were two different people but somehow she intrigued me.

I stared at the paint as it ran down the canvas, I was going to leave it how it was.

A mess.

____

Authors note :

In each of the next few chapters I'm going to be showing pictures of the cast.

In the multimedia you will find Reagan.