When questioned about her relationship in an interview, J. J. Pearce said it was fate that brought her and Vincent Giallo together. Fate, and her decision to splurge on a professional shoot for her author photo.
Vincent was her photographer’s assistant. Between shifts in lighting, setting, and costuming (she had the photographer booked for two hours, she was going to use him for all he was worth) Jacqueline Pearce and Vincent started talking. He asked her all sorts of questions. Was she excited for her book to come out? What was it about, anyway? How long had she been a writer? Did she want to grab dinner this weekend?
She was really excited about the book. It was about a group of teens trying to cover up a murder together, a very I Know What You Did Last Summer affair. This was her first book, so not very long at all. Oh, that wasn’t a real answer? …her whole life. She’d always been a writer. Sure. Yeah. Okay.
It was March. When they met up for dinner the weather was dark and wet. Somehow, it wasn’t something he’d accounted for when he made reservations. They were stuck at an outside table, the breeze biting her cheek. Normally she would have ordered wine with dinner, but she needed something hot so she had coffee. Conversation was difficult because they had to try to talk through the chatter of their teeth.
She would have written it off as a bad date if it wasn’t for Vincent’s sincere floundering at the situation. He apologized and berated himself over and over about it. He asked her lot of questions about it. Was she okay? It was too cold out here, wasn’t it? Did she want his coat?
Yes, she was fine. It was pretty cold, that was true. Wasn’t it supposed to snow later this week again? Sure, if he wanted to give her his coat she would take it.
And he gave it to her without fuss. It was warm from his residual body heat and very comfortable from constant wear. Vincent wasn’t a huge guy and she wasn’t a tiny girl, but she felt swallowed up in it. It made her feel secure. Across from her in the dim candlelight, she watched Vincent shiver. It was incredibly endearing.
By the look on his face when she returned his coat at the end of the date, he was surprised she asked for a second one.
Vincent Giallo was nothing but calculated. There was no such thing as a surprise. Every aspect of him was meticulously crafted to appeal to her. She had a self centered tenderness to her. For the selfish aspect, he asked about her book and her other successes. He pretended to show interest in stroking her vanity. Then, on the date itself, he exhibited an ineptitude she would find endearing. He was flustered by her and her beauty and success, and in that flustered state he’d blundered on the kind of reservation to make. Then, of course, he offered her his coat to keep away the cold. He played up how cold he himself was so she would be touched by his act of selflessness for her sake. He was cold, but it didn’t matter as long as Jacqueline was warm.
While pretending to shiver, he was worried he may have been overdoing it. Luckily, though, it seemed Jacqueline fell right for it. She kissed him on the cheek and asked if she could go out with him again.
Perfect.
His plan was already coming to fruition.
Jacqueline was usually unlucky in love. She had a hard time opening herself up to people, which was something she knew about herself. This had always been the case with her, but a bad experience from high school exacerbated her condition and taught her that people were not to be trusted. If that meant she would die alone, then that was fine. She had no problem with being alone.
Most of the people she went out with got mad at her reservedness and inability to open up. Vincent, though… he didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he was just as bad as her.
They got dinner together once a week during their first three months of dating. After the disaster that was their first date, Jacqueline insisted it be more casual. Nothing too fancy. If it took reservations, they weren’t going there.
It was the middle of June, and they were at a packed little pizza joint. The slices were cheap, but, Vincent insisted, delicious. He was watching her dab the extra grease from her slice of pepperoni.
“Are you going to keep staring at me?” She asked as she balled the now orange napkin up and put it on the table.
“I wanted to see what you thought of it,” he said, “this is one of my favorite places to go.”
“Oh?” She paused before the slice met her mouth. The tip of it sagged, the cheese threatening to slide off. “Did you grow up here?”
“No. I came here originally for college and I guess I just never bothered leaving.” He shrugged. No other information was given. “You better eat that before all your toppings fall off.”
“Ah!” She took a big bite and covered her face with a new napkin so he wouldn’t have to look at the mess she was making. He laughed and took it away from her.
“Hey! Don’t hide from me.” He smiled, his eyes full of affection. “You’re lucky I don’t have my camera.”
She swallowed. “Why? So you can take a picture and make fun of me for being a slob?”
“No, of course not.” He leaned forward, the laughter gone from his face. “Why would you think that?”
Jacqueline shook her head and took a sip of her pepsi. “Forget it. It doesn’t matter.”
“What I was going to say is because you’re so pretty.”
She choked on a laugh, the pepsi threatening to come up again. “Really? Even when I’m covered in pizza?”
“Especially when you’re covered in pizza. Speaking of, what did you think?”
“It’s good-”
“Just good?”
“-great, then. I was just thinking, you showed me one of your favorite places, one of these days I’ll have to show you mine.”
“One of your favorites from here?” He asked, finally indulging in his own slice, “That would take a load off my plate, so to speak. I have a really hard time trying to think of places to go every week that aren’t expensive but are still romantic enough to be considered a date.”
“Really? I think you’ve been doing a bang up job so far. No, I was thinking that maybe someday we could go on a trip to where I went to college. They had this great little seafood bar that had the absolute best clam ch-”
“I hate to be a downer,” Vincent interrupted, “but I’m actually allergic to seafood. Sorry.”
“Hey, that’s fine.” Jacqueline laughed it off. “What’s there to be sorry about? Not like you chose to be allergic to seafood.”
He didn’t laugh. Something about his reaction was disquieting, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. “Yeah. Still, if there’s anything else you’d wanna do…”
“Don’t worry about it, it was just a thought. Still, though, if you want I can plan next week’s date. Find someplace special for us.”
Vincent smiled at that and tapped her nose with his pizza crust. “I look forward to seeing how you plan to romance me, Miss Author Extraordinaire.”
Apparently Jacqueline’s idea of a romantic dinner date was inviting him over for pizza and beer while they watched a movie on her couch. Very juvenile. But, he relented, it finally meant he was in her apartment. The fortress of solitude he had yet to penetrate.
Seducing her was proving more difficult than he thought. His plan was a bit behind schedule. Things like that were bound to happen, though, once the planning stages were over and the game began. Personally, he was still mad at himself about his reaction to the clam chowder. He thought he was over it. Clearly, that wasn’t the case.
He knocked on Jacqueline’s door. She threw it open and grinned at him. She had her hair up in a messy ponytail and there was a light sweat on her forehead. She’d been deep cleaning her apartment, he could tell. The chemical smell was still fresh.
“Come on in!” She moved out of the doorway and ushered him inside. “Pizza should be here soon.”
“Thanks. Nice place you got here.” Looking around, he meant it. While the furniture was eclectic (very “I don’t care I just need a place to sit”) it all worked together pleasantly. It was also particularly clean, though he wasn’t sure how much of it was normally clean and how much was effort for his visit. “You ever thought about becoming an interior decorator?”
“Ha ha. Maybe if the writing game doesn’t work out for me. You want a beer?” She was already going to the kitchen.
“Sure. But no, I’m serious! This place is way nicer than mine.” She handed him a beer, ice cold from her refrigerator. They both opened their cans and drank. Cheap stuff. Disgusting.“Thanks.”
She laughed. “Oh my god, you hate it!”
“No! No, I don’t… hate it. How could anyone hate free beer?” He took another sip and gave her a thumbs up. She laughed again, practically doubling over.
“I didn’t realize you were such a lousy liar! Oh man, I’m crying.” She straightened herself back up and took a deep breath in and out. “Sorry, I didn’t tell you this but I kinda went for a theme for this date.”
Vincent tilted his head. “A theme?”
“Well, last time we went to your favorite pizza place from college, right? And that got me thinking, wouldn’t it be fun to do a sort of like, college style date?” She gestured around at the apartment as if that explained everything. It was only then that he noticed she was wearing a sweater with her alma mater’s name on it. “What’s more broke college kid date than cheap beer and pizza? Not to mention a movie on in the background to makeout to?”
She wagged her eyebrows suggestively, and he couldn’t help but laugh at her.
“Clever! Tell you what, next beer you bring me? I’ll shotgun it.”
Jacqueline jumped up and down and cheered, spilling some of her beer onto her sweater. “Yay! This is gonna be so much fun, Vincent!”
He took a swallow of his beer and lied. “My college friends just called me Vin.”
“Oh, really? Vin?”
“Yeah, well, what they actually said was “Vinner Vinner, chicken dinner, but that was long and kind of silly so we shortened it to Vin.”
Jacqueline laughed. “My college friends just called me Jackie. Nothing too fun to work with there.”
“Well, Jackie, I’m gonna wait on the couch for pizza and see if I can find a good makeout flick. Care to join me?” He held his arm out to her.
She took it. “With pleasure, Vin.”
It ended up being a night of firsts for them. His first night inside her apartment. Their first time watching a movie together… not that they really watched it. They spent most of it making out and heavy petting.
He’d thought that was going to be the end of it, but in true college style, Jackie got herself wasted on the cheap beer.
She was straddling his lap and drinking his beer when another first happened.
She took off her shirt.
“I’ve been… I’ve been thinkin’ Vin-” She paused to take a deeper drink of his beer and ended up finishing it off. She crushed the can and threw it behind her, giggling. “Vinner Vinner chicken dinner!”
“Yup, that’s me.” Vin was buzzed, but definitely not as far gone as Jackie. “Hey listen, Jackie, I think maybe you’ve had enough fun for one evening. Don’t you think?”
“No! I don’t! We haven’t had near enough fun!” She leaned all of her weight onto him. He felt her breasts pressed into his chest. Her breath was hot in his ear. “I think we should fuck.”
Vin wasn’t sure where to put his hands, so he settled them on her waist. Thinking this was agreement, she rolled her hips. Vin took a deep breath.
“Jackie, don’t take this the wrong way, but… I don’t think we should do this right now. I feel like I’d be taking advantage of you.”
“You're not! I want this! Please please please, Vin!"
“Well, I don’t want to! Not like this!” He pried her off him as gently as possible. Jackie fell against the couch and stayed sprawled there. He took another deep breath and ran his hands over his face. God, what had he gotten himself into?
“I bet you can’t even get it up and that’s why you don’t want any of this Vinner Vinner Jackie dinner.”
She was just taunting him, he knew that. Still, he felt his rage flare up. There wasn’t anything he wanted to do more than have sex with Jacqueline, it was a major step in his plan.
But this wasn’t how he wanted to do it. He wanted her sober and fully consenting. Like this, it was just gross.
He picked her sweater up off the floor and threw it at her.
“Goodnight, Jackie.”
As he walked out, he heard her yell “Impotent fuck!”
He closed the door just in time to block the beer can flying at him.
Jacqueline’s head was pounding, and her insides felt delicate and slimy. The orange juice in front of her was sitting untouched, and it would continue to be so until she was sure she wasn’t going to throw up or die. She groaned and held her face in her hands. What was she thinking last night? Why would she do that? She wasn’t much of a drinker, what had possessed her to go so overboard last night? Was it just nerves because Vincent was there?
God, Vincent. Was he ever going to forgive her? She’d acted like a total idiot last night. Sober, she was grateful he hadn’t taken her up on her proposition. Drunk, she’d been so angry and belittling. What if he broke up with her over this? She wouldn’t blame him if he did.
What if he didn’t even show up? What if he fully ghosted her?
That would be just her luck, wouldn’t it?
The diner’s bell jingled, spiking her headache with its pleasant ring. There was the sound of footsteps approaching her. Probably the server to ask if she was ready to order yet. She prepared herself for speaking politely but didn’t look up.
“You don’t look too good, Jackie.”
She was so relieved at the sound of his voice that she slumped forward on the table. “I don’t feel too good either, Vincent. Sit down?”
He slid into the booth across from her. "Kind of a day of firsts, huh? You've never invited me to breakfast before.
As much as she appreciated his attempt to avoid the conversation, she couldn't let this slide under the rug. Not like this. She spoke again into the table. “I’m sorry.”
Vincent shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It’s fine.”
“It’s not.” Jacqueline slowly pulled herself upright. “I shouldn’t have done that. I feel like such a prick.”
“Well, it was definitely a side of you I wasn’t expecting.”
Jacqueline’s guts were crawling. It didn’t help that despite Vincent’s claims that all was okay and that it didn’t matter, he wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t looking at her like he usually did. There was no warmth in his eyes or tilt to his mouth.
She swallowed nervously. Her throat was dry. Should she risk the orange juice? “Are you mad at me?”
“No! No,” he paused, his eyes downcast to the table and his hands squeezing each other. He was giving this more thought than she expected. Jacqueline sipped her orange juice. Vincent continued, “I was mad, which was why I left. I’m not mad now, but I am… concerned.”
“Concerned?” The orange juice felt acidic in her throat.
“You threw a beer can at me, Jacqueline.”
It took all she had to keep the juice down. “I did?”
Vincent nodded. She understood what was going on. He was going to break up with her, and for good reason. Clearly, last night wasn’t a good time for him. That was the closest they’d gotten to intimacy and she’d practically forced herself on him and then got violent. She wouldn’t stay with someone who did that to her, either.
“You don’t remember?” He asked quietly.
She felt like she could cry. If it weren’t for her headache, she probably would have let herself. “No, I don’t. Vincent, I’m so so sorry! I’ve never done anything like that before. I don’t know what came over me.”
“I had a feeling,” Vincent sighed and slumped back in the booth, “which is why I debated about bringing it up. You don’t strike me as the naturally violent type.”
“How could you be sure? We haven’t known each other very long.”
“That’s true,” he chuckled halfheartedly, a twitch of a smile on his face, “but I have a good sense of these things.”
Jacqueline took another sip of her orange juice. She was feeling a bit better now. “That’s cryptic.”
“Being cryptic is one of my charms,” he said, “writers love a good mystery, don’t they? If I'm not some enigma you have to work hard to decipher then what's even keeping you interested in me?"
It didn’t sound like he was breaking up with her, but she needed the confirmation. She needed to hear him say it. “So you still want to date me?”
Her hand was resting next to her orange juice. He took it and squeezed her gently.
“Of course, it’d take a lot more than that to scare me away.” He grinned, but there was still something troubling him. She could feel it in the way he played with her fingers. “As long as you hold off on drinking when you’re with me.”
She laughed. Her head pounded. “That won’t be hard to do.”
He had a panic attack.
Thrown right back into his childhood by that familiar movement and sound. He’d blocked many a beer can with a door in his time. It was so long ago he hadn’t even thought about it in years.
But there he was. Right outside Jacqueline’s door with his chest tight and his heart about to burst. He couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He was rooted to the spot, the only thing keeping him upright was his grip on the doorknob.
Vincent leaned his head against the door and closed his eyes. He breathed through his teeth and waited for it to pass.
Eventually it did. When he could finally breathe freely again he was startled to find his face was wet.
He’d stood here in front of Jacqueline Pearce’s door and fucking cried. God, he was just reliving every horrible moment in his childhood tonight.
He wiped the remnants of his disgusting actions from his face. Hoping that he was just as invisible now as he’d felt when he was a kid, he kept his head down and left.
Jacqueline returned to her apartment after buying a bottle of ibuprofen and a slushie from the gas station across the street. At the diner she’d ordered breakfast, but was only able to choke down a piece of toast. The rest she’d pushed over to Vincent who was more than happy to polish it off.
She was in a strange state at the moment, still hungover and feeling like absolute shit but also walking on air and elated. She’d made an absolute fool of herself, even worse than she’d originally thought, but in the end Vincent still wanted to stay with her. Over breakfast they’d made plans for their next date. She wanted to make it up to him. He admitted he wanted to do something other than a meal for once.
They’d settled on visiting an art gallery next weekend with some exhibits Vincent was interested in seeing. He loved checking out shows, especially local ones, but he didn’t like going alone. It was nice to have someone to talk about the art with. Seeing as she was an artist in her own right, Vincent really wanted to hear what she thought.
He called her an artist. Just thinking about it made her blush.
Soon as Jacqueline started digging for her keys, the door across from hers opened. “Wow, Jacqueline! What a surprise to see you out in the hall. Total coincidence!”
Jacqueline found her keys and stuck them in the lock. She didn’t turn to look at her neighbor. “What do you want, Irena?”
Irena approached so she had no choice but to look at her from the corner of her eye. The woman looked exaggeratedly down both ends of the hall then whispered conspirationally with her hand blocking sideview of her mouth. As if anyone would want to listen to her stage whisper. “I think it would be better if we talked in private. Can I come in?”
Jacqueline pushed her door open, but didn’t move into it. “That depends on what this is about.”
“You had a guy over yesterday.”
“I did, yes. My boyfriend.” Jacqueline finally turned around to face her neighbor. She leaned against the doorframe and slurped her slushie. It was melting fast. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Irena was a cliche if Jacqueline had ever seen one. Pursuing a dream of stardom after a dazzling career of local theater, she was naive and unworldly and disgustingly pure. Jacqueline didn’t mind any of these things on their own, but something about her young neighbor just rubbed her the wrong way. It didn’t feel real. It was like even now, Irena was acting.
“No. I was just wondering…” Irena looked down at her shoes and fiddled with the hem of her shirt, “is he okay?”
Jacqueline froze. When she was able to move again, she pushed her door all the way open. “Come in.”
Irena scurried in. Jacqueline was extremely thankful she’d taken the time that morning to clean up after herself. If there was anything she could be shamed with out in the open, she would have never invited her in. Jacqueline indicated a spot at the kitchen table for her to sit.
Irena obeyed dutifully, waiting as Jacqueline tossed the last of her slushie into the garbage. When Jacqueline approached her at the table she almost felt like this was an interrogation.
In a way, it was. “I was asleep when Vincent left yesterday. Did it look like something happened to him?”
“I was going to go out to get some fresh air last night, but then I saw him standing at your door. He was leaning against it and holding the doorknob, but otherwise he wasn’t moving. I was a little scared at first and I was going to wait for him to leave but he just… didn’t. He stayed there for a really long time. Eventually I stopped being scared and got worried instead.”
“Because he just kept standing there?”
“No, because he was crying.” Irena said. Jacqueline felt her heart break and plop into her roiling stomach acid. “I wanted to go out and ask him what was wrong, but before I got up the nerve to open the door, he ran away.”
“Oh.” Jacqueline fell into the empty chair across from Irena. She felt even worse now than she had at the diner.
“What happened last night, Jacqueline?”
“I… I messed up.” She was always messing up. “Don’t worry about it, though. I’m making it up to him. We’re working it out.”
Irena stood up and pushed her chair in. It made an ungodly noise against the floor that stabbed at Jacqueline’s still throbbing head. “That’s a relief to hear. Can you introduce me next time he comes around? I want to meet him.”
“No offense, Irena, but we’re not exactly friends. You're not really on the top of my list for people I'd introduce my boyfriend to. You’re just my neighbor.”
She didn’t take offense to this. “What’s a neighbor but a friend a few feet away? You should get some rest, you don’t look so good.”
Irena crossed the room. The squirming feeling in her stomach made it hard for Jacqueline to speak, but before Irena left she was finally able to reply.
“Thanks for the advice. Good bye.”
She didn't see her out.
The exhibition had become a key factor in his plan. If everything was going to work out how he wanted it to, he would have to execute this perfectly.
He met her at her apartment. She came out in a sleeveless dress, black and sleek and casual formal. She was wearing her hair up, but a lock of it kept coming undone and she had to push it back behind her ear and into the mess of pins keeping it in place.
“How do I look?” She asked, feigning shyness.
Jacqueline looked how she always looked. “Absolutely beautiful. Shall we?”
Vincent held out his arm to her, and she pressed herself against him.When they got to his car, he opened the passenger door for her and ushered her inside. He did the same when they reached their destination, opening her door and helping her out of it. He was determined to be nothing but a perfect gentleman tonight.
The exhibit they were going to see tonight was the debut of an old college friend of his. Vincent had focused on photography specifically, but his friend Aubrey Ross specialized in mixed media. While the photos she took she developed monochromatically, she sometimes used paint, markers, or even dollar store craft supplies like sequins to give her work a pop of color and as a way to explore whatever thematic elements she was playing with.
Aubrey’s exhibit this time was on family, love, and nature. The centerpiece was a collage she’d made of her family tree, using photos she’d taken of all her living relatives and connecting them all together with driftwood she’d recovered along the banks of a river she’d lived near in her childhood. There were other embellishments added to some of the photos, things that Vincent pointed out to Jacqueline, who nodded along in fascination.
Her eyes, he noted, had a shine to them.
He already knew how hard a subject family was for her. It was hard for him, too. The circumstances were different, of course, but still, it was one of the few things they had in common.
One of the few things that made him question if he wanted to go through with this or not.
But he would. He’d made up his mind on it and he was this far, already. If he gave up now, what was the point?
He asked Jacqueline what she thought of the collage and some of the other pieces. She said she liked them, but she didn’t know enough about this particular artform to really talk about it. He told her that didn’t really matter. Her reactions to the pieces were what was important here, not any sort of technical knowledge. She seemed to take comfort in that and spoke more openly.
The photo of Aubrey’s parents recreating their wedding photos for their fortieth anniversary was Jacqueline’s favorite. Aubrey had scrawled their vows into the background and hand painted the flowers in her mother’s bouquet.
“Have you ever thought about getting married, Jacqueline?” He probed the subject cautiously.
She was silent for longer than he expected, the answer lost in her head somewhere. “I’ve never really given it serious thought.”
But now that he’d planted the seed, he was sure she would. The thought would be nibbling away at the back of her head, and so, by virtue of being her partner, would he.
Vincent introduced her to the artist. He complimented her on her work with genuine praise. Jacqueline, out of her element but trying her best, agreed with everything he said.
It was nice to see her reduced to parroting him.
“Thanks, Vin,” Aubrey gushed with warmth, clearly buzzed from the free flowing compliments and champagne, “you know, I was actually a pretty big fan of your work in school, too. How come I haven’t seen any of your photos anywhere yet?”
“Honestly, even after we graduated I still felt like I had a lot to learn.” He shrugged. “I’m working as an assistant to a professional photographer right now. He’s been really great about showing me the ins and outs and getting me connections. Stuff like that.”
“So what, you’re gonna go into like, business photography?” Aubrey scoffed. “There’s nothing wrong with that but, like, that’s such a waste of your talents. You’re an artist, Vin. Have you ever seen his work?”
This last question was directed at Jacqueline, who jumped at suddenly being addressed. “I haven’t, actually.”
“Seriously? You need to. God it’s so…” Aubrey struggled to find the word she wanted, snapping her fingers together until it finally clicked into place, “sultry.”
Jacqueline laughed. “Sultry? I’ve never heard that used to describe a photo before.”
“Okay, now I know you haven’t seen his work.”
This was going so much better than he’d thought. Aubrey and Jacqueline were getting along even better than he’d anticipated. Vincent sipped his champagne and patted himself on the back for a job well done.
Time for his part now.“Do you… want to see my work, Jacqueline?”
He asked it like he was uncertain and shy. The slight self-deprecation was just this side of charming. And, Jacqueline being Jacqueline, it worked perfectly on her.
“Of course I do!” She reached out for his arm and squeezed it insistently. “Vincent, I’d love to see your work.”
He smiled. “And I’d love for you to see it.”
“Speaking of work,” Aubrey interrupted, tearing Vincent away from Jacqueline and pulling him over to her side, “I actually have a thing or two to discuss with this guy. It’ll only be a minute, I promise. You don’t mind, right?”
Jacqueline’s eyes were big with shock, but she hid it well behind the grinning facade. “Oh no, yeah, go ahead! I’ll just wander around and check out the rest of your exhibit. Congrats again, by the way.”
“Aw, you’re so sweet! Thank you.”
Aubrey dragged him away by the arm, both of them sloshing champagne from their glasses as they moved. He stumbled over his feet. This wasn’t part of his plan. When they were far enough away from Jacqueline, in a corner and out of ear shot, Aubrey leaned in close and whispered right into his face, blocking the side view with her hand so no one could read her lips.
“She’s great, Vinnie! I really like her.” Was this the thing she wanted to share with him? He already knew that from their conversation. How was this worth dragging him away for? Useless. Still, Aubrey was smiling so widely at him. She expected some sort of reply.
“I really like her, too.”
What a lame reply. Aubrey laughed and punched him in the arm.
“My shy little Vin finally put himself out there and found a nice girl. I’m so proud of you, man! Seriously, you guys look so happy together, that’s awesome.”
Vincent felt the blood go to his face. He tried to will it back to its proper place in his body. “You’re embarrassing me, Aubrey! Stop.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” she laughed, “but for real, it is nice to see you so happy. You were always a little on edge at school. To tell you the truth, it worried me. It’s probably why I tried to take you under my wing.”
“You were worried about me?” This was his first time hearing about it. He was strangely touched.
“Yeah,” Aubrey shrugged and drained the remains of her champagne, “I’m not anymore, though. Alright, I suppose I can let you get back to your date.”
“And I’ll let you get back to making your rounds.” He took the empty glass from her. “You’ve had enough of these for one night, though, I think.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun.”
He found Jacqueline again and interlocked her fingers with his. If he squeezed her hand tighter than usual, she didn’t seem to mind.
“Your friend seems really nice,” Jacqueline said, gazing intently at him instead of the art, “I like her a lot.”
Vincent smiled. “Funny, she said the same thing about you.”
She knew Vincent was a photographer, but until the art show she hadn’t considered him as an artist. At first she felt bad for ignoring this aspect of him, but then she remembered that it took conscious effort on her part to even consider herself as an artist. Writers and photographers were in the same boat in this regard. All she had to do was remember how similar they were and stand together with him in this sensitive space in solidarity as a fellow artist.
When Jacqueline told him she wanted to see his work, she wasn’t sure what she was expecting. She thought on their next date he might come with a portfolio for her to look at, like what his boss had shown her to give her headshot examples. Maybe he would come with a scrapbook. Or maybe he would just bring his camera and scroll through the photos he hadn’t gotten printed yet.
Instead she found herself led into a studio. It wasn’t big, but there wasn’t an inch of space not in use. Stashed in corners were different types of lights and labelled jars spilling loose film. There were sticky notes with instructions written in cryptic scribbles she could barely decipher as words. The walls were technicolored with paint swatches surrounding rough pencil and ink sketches. Landscapes. Still life. Bodies posturing. The air was dust and chemicals. She found it hard to take deep breaths while she took everything in.
“Sorry if it’s a little much. Don’t mind the mess.” Vincent rambled as he shrugged off his jacket, trying to mask his nerves with his voice, “I tried to clean up, but honestly I don’t really have much of an organizational system so the moment I move something I have to tear the place apart to find it again. Man, it’s kinda stuffy in here, huh? I’ll open a window.”
He scurried off and wrestled with the window, stuck in place from months possibly years of being closed. Jacqueline was torn between watching him struggle and continuing to examine his work. Her eyes flickered from one to the other.
A sketched sunset in black and white, the dying light exploding between the thin, naked tree branches in the foreground. An actual photo would be breathtaking. She’d always thought those kinds of photos were spontaneous. Clearly, at least for Vincent, that wasn’t the case.
Vincent grunted. She turned and watched the muscles of his shoulders strain from the effort.
“You don’t have to worry about me, Vincent, I’m okay.”
He shook his head, continuing to work on the window while facing away from her. “No, no, I’ll get it open. This air’s so stale, some circulation would probably be good.”
“If you think it’s best.” At this point, Jacqueline wasn’t sure if she found Vincent’s desperation to please her endearing anymore. It spoke of a deep seated discomfort. If he'd just open up and talk it out with her, then she was sure she could help him work through it and he'd stop feeling like he had to bend over backwards for her. As it was, she couldn't do anything.
Not that Jacqueline could talk. He wasn’t the only one keeping things closed off.
Her wandering eye was drawn to a distant piece, where sweet pastels and bright, violent reds clustered around thumbnails of future sketches. These weren’t like the fully realized ideas taking center stage on the walls. These were… fetal. Ideas still in the developmental stage.
“I didn’t realize you planned projects this far in advance.” She commented to him, not taking her eyes off it.
“Oh? Yeah, the trick with some of those landscape ones is to be so meticulous in detailing your plan that by the time you get the picture it seems perfect and effortless.” He made another strangled noise. The window really wasn’t budging. “You like them? You can come with me when I take that sunset one if you want to. The location’s not too far from your place.”
“That sounds nice, but I was actually talking about these ones over here with the conversation hearts. You’re already planning for Valentine’s day?”
“What?”
She was slammed from behind by a blast of air. Jacqueline shivered.
“Window’s open!” Vincent announced, finally coming to join her. “Now what were you saying?”
Jacqueline pointed wordlessly to the little sketches taped to the wall amid the sea of paint swatches. Vincent smiled, but it was a thin, almost worrisome smile that barely flickered on his face.
“These are actually kind of embarrassing for me. See, one of my classes had this warm up exercise where the professor would give us an abstract idea and we would have to draw as many concept sketches as we could think of that fit the description. It’s supposed to loosen up your creativity and get the juices flowing, you know? I’m sure you did something similar in your writing classes.”
“Oh, yeah.” She nodded. “I get the idea. So then these are…?”
“These are my attempt at doing that. When I get stuck, I pick some words out of a hat and draw as many sketches as I can based on it. I got kind of invested with these ones, even picked out possible color schemes and stuff. Honestly, I forgot I even left these up.”
Jacqueline examined him. The bemused expression stuck on his face. There was a slight pinkening brushing his cheeks. When they made eye contact, Vincent’s gaze dropped to his shoes like he couldn’t bear to meet hers anymore.
“I’m glad you left them up.” She said. Out of all the little sketches, there was one her eyes kept wandering back to. A conversation heart caught in someone’s teeth. The crushing bite was already happening, the little heart fracturing from the force. BE MINE. “I like them.”
The breeze froze the room again, and she shivered. Vincent put his arms around her, pressing his front against her back. He radiated heat. His chin came to rest on her shoulder.
“I’m glad.” Vincent mumbled. With their current proximity he didn’t need to do more than that.
“What was the concept?” She asked. “I mean, obviously Valentine’s Day was one, but what was the other?”
He groaned and squeezed her tight. “It’s going to sound tacky at this point.”
Now she was really curious. “I don’t mind. What was it?”
“Horror.”
“Horror?” She wanted to turn to look at him fully, but with his head positioned against her she could only side eye him. “Is that really tacky?”
“I would say so,” she could practically taste his breath against her cheek, “there’s a lot of horror movies set during it. I would say aside from Halloween, it’s the holiday with the most.”
“Do you watch a lot of those? Horror movies, I mean?”
“I watch enough,” he loosened one of his arms from around her and touched one of the swatches on the wall, “this color would look good on you, I think. Do you not like horror, Jacqueline? From how you described your book when we met, I pegged you as a fan.”
The color his finger was brushing against was bright red. She wanted to shake her head, but that would risk hitting him with her hair or worse, her face. “No. I mean, I’ve seen a few but I’ve never gone out of my way to watch them. I Know What You Did Last Summer holds a special place in my heart, though.”
She was afraid he would ask what she meant, but he didn’t. He gingerly tore the red paint swatch off the wall. His grip around her waist was much looser now, his arms simply looped around her as he held the slip in both hands. He started folding it.
Jacqueline watched him work. He was tearing it now. “What’s so scary about Valentine’s Day?”
“I think it’s because of how easy it is for infatuation to become obsession.” He said. Vincent unfolded the swatch. A bright red heart. A makeshift valentine. “Or the inherent vulnerability in giving your heart away to another person.” He held it out to her. “What if they break it?”
With Vincent’s face in the corner of her eye, she wasn’t able to read his expression. She felt like she could cry. “Oh. Yeah, I can see how that could be terrifying.”
She reached out to take the heart from him.
The breeze picked up. Her fingers barely grazed it before it was snatched by the air and through the open window. She ran after it, trying to chase it down. There was no point. By the time she reached the window it was out of her reach. All she could do was watch the heart tumble through the breeze of the city streets.
Beside her, Vincent sighed. He leaned against the window sill and stood watch with her until the heart was untraceable. “That’s too bad. I really wanted you to have it.”
He was looking outside, but his eyes were far away, somewhere distant. He saw that she was looking at him and not the city, and he smiled. It didn’t look real.
“Vincent.”
She wrestled the window closed. The air was stagnant again.
“Take mine.”
He fucked her on the floor dust.
She gave him her heart. Her insides. Everything she had. When they were finished she existed only as liquid. Spunk and sweat and blood. Vincent’s blood under her nails. She’d dug her nails so deep into his back she was surprised they were still attached to her fingers.
Vincent stood above her, his back to her. The blood was so fresh and vibrant it almost looked fake, like a hokey B-horror movie effect.
Against the scars, it looked especially misplaced.
She averted her eyes. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
He chuckled. “Hey, I’m supposed to say that. Did I?”
“Did you?”
“Hurt you?” Vincent crouched in front of her, turned her face back to him with his hand on her cheek.
His touch was tender. Jacqueline saw that his pupils were so dilated that they took over the whole iris. “No. You didn’t hurt me.”
She wasn’t sure if he could.
“Can you stay perfectly still, Jacqueline? Just for a few minutes?”
She was caught off guard and agreed without thinking about it. Vincent ran off somewhere into the studio, no shirt and with his pants threatening to fall since they remained undone. Whatever he needed her to stay still for must be important.
He came back just as quickly, and she saw what was so important.
A camera.
“Do you mind if I…?” He held it out as if to shoot her.
She was embarrassed, but she couldn’t say no. “Who am I to stop you?”
“The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”
The camera flashed.
“You can stop with the empty flatteries, you already got me into bed.”
Another flash.
“Technically, I got you onto floor.”
“Shut up!” Her hand searched for the nearest object to throw at him.
Her bra hit him right in the face and plopped limply to the floor at his bare feet. Vincent stooped to pick it up and dangled it in his hand. “I’m keeping this.”
Her indignant expression was captured in another flash. He laughed.
The pictures turned out beautifully. He was proud of himself. They would serve as the perfect memento. Proof of how well his plan was going. A trophy.
Just like what they’d done to him.
Vincent wondered if Jacqueline kept any of the photos from that night. He had no idea what happened at the party after they were taken. The aftermath of his embarrassment. He’d left so quickly. Did the girls laugh at him at school the next week? Were the photos plastered all over the school? Were they disappointed when the object of ridicule never returned?
He shook his head. Better not to dwell on it. The photos of Jacqueline in his studio, though…
These weren’t shameful photos. Things to be embarrassed by. For either of them. Truthfully, he hadn’t even planned on taking pictures. But when he looked at her there on the floor, with the fading light playing against her just right… he picked up his camera without thinking. He needed to photograph her. To capture the memory. Capture her.
The artist in him took over during the developing process. He’d kept them monochrome, a sumptuous blue that softened the skin and deepened the shadows. Vincent wasn’t sure if it was because the photos were actually good or because it commemorated phase one of his plan, but it felt like some of his best work.
He sent them over to Aubrey for a second opinion. She congratulated him on breaking his dry spell. At his embarrassed sputtering to reply, she’d laughed.
“I meant on the photography. I know you’ve had some nasty artist’s block for awhile there.”
“Oh, yeah thanks. I’m glad that’s finally over with. It was really hard fo-”
“Yeah I’m sure it was really hard.” She cackled at her own joke.
“Aubrey,” he groaned, “I would appreciate it if you would pick a conversational lane here. Are we talking about my art or are we talking about my dick?”
“I’m open to both,” she paused for a second. Vincent knew she was going to say something crass again and prepared himself, “which is probably what Jacqueline said when you guys got down and dirty in the studio.”
“You’re so funny. Do you think the photos turned out okay? I need someone else’s eye for this. I’m a little too close to the subject.”
“Oh, I thought you sent me these to rub your new relationship in my single face some more. These are beautiful, Vinnie. Real intimate and soft. Have you shown them to Jacqueline yet?”
“Not yet. I wanted to get your opinion first to see if they were even worth saving. You’re the first person I’ve shown them to.”
“Aw, I’m flattered! You should totally show these to Jacqueline, I think. She’ll love them.”
“Thanks, Aubrey.”
When Vincent showed her the photos, Jacqueline couldn’t believe it was her. This mysterious woman with the velvet soft hair obscuring her face. She’d never looked so… soft. Touchable. Vulnerable.
Pretty.
“This is really me?” She muttered it under her breath as she touched the picture. Her finger dragged lightly over her own bare shoulder.
Vincent was right next to her, proximity being the only reason he even heard the question. “Of course it’s you. What do you think? Do you like it?”
“They’re breathtaking.” Jacqueline said, her eyes were trapped in the photo. She couldn’t move her gaze to him at all. “Is that narcissistic of me?”
“It’s not narcissistic if it’s true. And it is, we have proof right here.” He tapped on the photo with his own finger, landing right on the shadow of her breast.
She was almost regretful for all the money she’d spent on a professional author photo. While the one she’d settled on to go next to her bio did its job of being sharp and clean and objectively good, there was no artistry in it. All it conveyed was her smile. Her hair color.
Not like this photo, exposing depths to her that she wasn’t sure even existed. Imagined emotional fathoms. Just the kind of thing she wanted people to think she had.
“Would you mind if I used these on my author website?” She asked. “It’s a waste of your talent to keep these to ourselves.”
“Sure, if you want to. You can do whatever you want with these, they’re yours.” Vincent pushed the photos closer to her. “I mean, they are pictures of you. I think you should be the one to decide what to do with them.”
She still couldn’t believe it was really her in the pictures. As she stared at herself in the pictures, the pretty and soft and open girl, Jacqueline wondered if she could live up to the image he’d made of her.
She smiled. “Thanks, Vincent.”
None of Jacqueline’s relationships lasted longer than a couple of months. Her relationship with Vincent was already one of the longest she’d ever had. With him, she thought she might be able to make it last even longer. That she could open up to him. Reveal herself for what she was.
In his studio, she was so close. They were so close. Everything about Vincent screamed of a kind of desperation that only someone like Jacqueline would be able to detect. She was sure he didn’t know, didn’t even suspect that she was aware of just how much he wanted her to like him. He’d hinted at something in the studio. The parts of him he kept close to his chest. When she was there with him, she told herself that she would finally open up.
But only if he opened up first.
That was why she said he could have her heart. Because he offered first. And though it was an empty gesture designed to seduce her, she thought it was cute. So she let him have her.
It was stupid of her to get scared after that. But the photos… they were a version of her that wasn’t real. She didn’t think he saw her like that. He knew that wasn’t her.
Didn’t he?
What if this whole time she’d been deluding herself into believing that Vincent was different. What if in reality he did see her like that and his motives weren’t what she thought? Maybe he did just see her as soft and pretty and sweet. The kind of girl who gets swept up in paper hearts, not the kind who breaks a heart between her teeth.
So she started distancing. Better to do it now while he still held that image of her in his head than hurt him more when he realized it wasn’t real.
Jacqueline was a master of slowly dragging herself out of relationships, so she did what she always did. She still went on dates with him, but not every date he invited her on. While she didn’t outright avoid intimacy, she didn’t initiate it. They had sex a few more times, all of which she tried her best to be mostly unresponsive during. When they kissed, she did it like it was a chore. Like she was bored.
Those parts were easy. The hardest part was when they would walk together and he would reach for her hand. She would pull it away subtly, but he still knew what she was doing. She could see it on his face. The hurt.
Jacqueline reminded herself it was better to do this now than later. He wasn’t attached to her. Not really.
He would recover from her.
It turned out to be a good move, career wise. Jacqueline’s publisher agreed to having the photos up on her author website. In fact, they liked the photos so much that he got an email from her publisher asking if he’d ever be interested in selling the rights to some of his works to them so they could use them as cover designs for future books. They would also keep him in mind if they wanted a specific photo design they thought would be suited to his style. The deal being proposed wasn’t enough for him to quit his current job as an assistant photographer, but it was a good start.
He had Jacqueline to thank for that.
Jacqueline…
Things had taken a strange turn with her. After he’d shown her the photographs he thought she would swoon into his arms again and let him take her then and there. He thought phase one of his plan had gone off without a hitch. He had her! He’d physically had her! But now… now it was like she was pulling away from him. Trying to keep her distance.
What was going on?
This all happened after she saw the photos. Did she actually hate them? When he asked if she liked them, did he sound too desperate? Was that wheedling tone of his too similar to how he’d spoken to her in the past? Was there something in the photos themselves that made his goal obvious to her? His desires? Were they visibly on display here?
Thinking it over, blue may have been the wrong choice.
He had to figure out how to fix this. At the rate they were going, their relationship would fizzle out like nothing. She would end things with him before he even had the chance to end her. He couldn’t let that happen.
Alone in his studio, Vincent worked and reworked his plan. He sketched and pinned his ideas to the wall. Color swatched as if designing a shoot. While he of course wasn’t going to do that, he wanted these memories he created with Jacqueline to be perfect. The feelings and thoughts she had during these moments needed to be captured forever.
That way he could destroy her completely. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally.
He took a step back and examined his work. The buttery yellow and warm brick rust, the sea glass green and bubbly pink. The diamond shine.
He groaned and rubbed his face. Just thinking about what he had to do was giving him a migraine.
It was time for Vincent Giallo, the fumbling romantic, to make his reappearance.
She canceled a breakfast date with him for the fourth time in less than two weeks. Jacqueline sent the cancellation over text, but being the kind and caring man he was, Vincent called her immediately.
“Are you feeling okay, Jacqueline?” Even through the phone she could make out his concern.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about, I’m just not feeling great. Honestly, mornings have been a little tough for me lately.” This wasn’t even a lie. Recently she’d been experiencing bouts of nausea and lethargy in the morning that left her without appetite or desire to even leave her bed.
“Alright, but I’m really starting to worry about you. You’ve been feeling lousy for awhile, right? If this keeps up I think you should go see a doctor about it. Will you do that?”
Jacqueline sipped from a cup of ice water. It was the only thing she could keep down at the moment. “Vincent, I appreciate your worry but I don’t think it’s anything that serious.”
“Please?”
It was the tone in that single word that made her agree to go. Jacqueline didn’t think it was anything to worry about, but it was still worth checking in on. Just to ease Vincent’s mind.
The doctor asked her all sorts of questions. Diet. Current lifestyle. Stress. Sexual activity. Sleep schedule. Any abnormalities she was noticing about herself physically. Aches. Pains. Possible genetic conditions worth noting in her family.
There wasn’t anything relevant to mention. The doctor decided to run some tests, but he was pretty sure her issues would resolve themselves on their own given time. They took some of her blood. He told her they would run it through a full battery of tests. It would take about five days to get the results, at which point they would call her to make another appointment and go over them together.
She was pretty sure the doctor just wanted to squeeze as much money out of her as he could. Vincent seemed relieved when she told him about the appointment a few days later, though.
Even while trying to end things with Vincent, she was glad to have him so concerned about her. There were few people in Jacqueline’s life that showed so much care for her wellbeing. She knew it was selfish, but it made her feel good. No one worried over her as much as he did. Being able to exacerbate or soothe his nerves just by telling him she went to the doctor was a new experience for her. She was reveling in it.
Then she got the results back.
She wasn’t reveling anymore.
He got a really nice check from Jacqueline’s publishing company, and the first thing he did with it was make a reservation somewhere fancy. It was against their established rules, but honestly they hadn’t been abiding by those for awhile. Not since their college date.
Just thinking about it filled his throat with bile.
He swallowed and squared his shoulders. Tonight had to be perfect. None of this weakness.
July was in its height, and with it the pounding heat. He would blame the sweat nervously trailing the back of his neck on it. He’d warned Jacqueline ahead of time about today’s weather but ignored his own advice. He needed to look his best tonight, and his best meant his nonno’s sports coat. It was the best piece of clothing he owned, and also one he’d never worn before out of respect for the deceased. Tonight was the one exception.
Putting it on left his with a strange feeling of deja vu. It struck him as he stared in the mirror that his nonna meant it when she said that Vincent was his spitting image. The resemblance gave him a bit of strength, like his nonno was watching over and supporting him.
…not that he would approve of this plan.
Vincent climbed the stairs to Jacqueline’s apartment. Better not to think of that. There was no time for doubt. Not after he’d come so far.
When he reached her floor he had to quiet his doubting head and racing heart. What was wrong with him today? He wasn’t normally this erratic emotionally over Jacqueline. There may have been more bumps in his plan than he anticipated, but it was nothing to get so nervous about. Maybe wearing the sports coat was a bad idea. The emotions he had about his grandparent’s deaths were still fresh compared to the scabbed over ones he was picking at while pursuing Jacqueline. He’d leave the coat in the car when they got to the restaurant.
If Jacqueline asked about the strange behavior, he would tell her the truth. She’d find that sensitivity and sadness charming.
As he approached the door, out came the neighbor. The petite blonde girl that Jacqueline despised for being fake. Irene or something. He’d never talked to her personally, but Jacqueline warned him to stay away from her.
“Oh, why hello there!” Her voice was chipper and saccharine. It made him flinch. He hated to admit it, but Jacqueline was right. There was something unreal in that voice. “I haven’t seen you around here. Did you just move into the building?”
He had to be perfect today, even to someone like whatever her name was. He smiled. “Hello! I’m Vincent, I’ve been seeing your neighbor Jacqueline for a bit. I’m surprised we haven’t met before.”
He held out his hand for her to shake. She took it. Her fingers were delicate and cold, and her big blue eyes were staring calculatingly at him. Like she was trying to find something hidden in his face.
He wondered if he ever looked at Jacqueline like that.
“My name’s Irena.”
Then, without any of the over theatrical movements she’d been making, her eyes flicked away from his face and to Jacqueline’s door. It was closed. She squeezed his hand and pulled him in for a hug.
Irena spoke so quietly he wasn’t sure if she really had.
“If anything happens, tell me.”
He pulled away from her, startled. “What?”
She smiled a big showstopper smile, the kind you could see even from the back of an audience. “Sorry, I guess I should have warned you that I’m a hugger. Anyway, I gotta go! Bye bye now!”
Irena ran to the stairs, waving to him as she went. He waved back confusedly, unsure what else he was supposed to do in this situation.
A strange encounter, but nothing he needed to deal with right now. He had more pressing concerns.
He had Jacqueline.
She was dressed beautifully, the same outfit she wore to the gallery. He was guessing that was her go-to for uncertain fancy occasions. She didn’t ask him how she looked this time. Still, he told her she looked beautiful.
Truthfully, she just looked apprehensive. When he offered his arm to her, she took it without a word.
Jacqueline was never the chatty type, but she’d never been so quiet before. She never left him to carry the conversation all by himself. Maybe this was a new distancing tactic to get him flustered.
If she was expecting him to break up with her over this, she had another thing coming.
The restaurant he took her to was the fanciest one he knew. The sort of intimate, candle-lit spot that whispered romance. They were shown to a table near the back so they wouldn’t be disturbed by anyone.
Once their server left after giving them their menus, Jacqueline finally spoke. “What are we doing here, Vincent?”
He’d been rehearsing this. “We’re here to celebrate! A lot of good things have been happening for us lately. I got that contract with your publisher for joining the cover design team as a freelance artist, your book is doing really well on all the charts, and…well…”
He looked down at his menu, feigning embarrassment as best he could.
“Us. Next week we’ll have been together for five whole months. Isn’t that crazy?” He chuckled and looked back up at her.
Her face gave away nothing. “That is. This is the longest relationship I’ve ever had.”
“Me too.” It was the only relationship he’d ever had. Not that he would admit it to her.
“Vincent, I have to tell you something-”
The champagne arrived before the panic could set in. He wasn’t expecting her to try springing the breakup on him like that. All of her moves up to this point were clearly attempts to get him to do it or for the relationship to just dissolve naturally on its own.
The champagne was poured and the glasses passed. Vincent raised his up.
“A toast,” he said proclaimed, “to you, Jacqueline. Ever since I met you, my life has changed. I’m an entirely different person than who I used to be, and it’s all thanks to you. I love you.”
How could she break up with him now? After that disgusting display of affection?
He took a sip. Jacqueline stared at the glass but didn’t pick it up.
“I can’t drink this.”
“Trust me, it’s good! I think you’ll like it.”
“No, I…” she slid the glass to his side of the table, “I can’t.”
Vincent was at a loss, he hadn’t expected this reaction. But then he remembered her behavior after their college date. Her guilt at what she’d done and how she’d promised never to drink again.
He was touched.
“You don’t have to drink it if you don’t want to, but if you’re holding back for my sake I’m giving you full permission. Don’t worry about it.”
Vincent smiled encouragingly and pushed the glass a little closer to her. She left it where it was and just stared at it.
“That’s not the reason.” She sounded a little guilty. What happened that night probably didn’t cross her mind. “Vincent, I’m… I’m pregnant.”
“Oh.”
He hadn’t planned for this.
“Okay.”
He drained both their glasses.
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