literature

Overture of Angels

Deviation Actions

Juno-Park's avatar
By
Published:
502 Views

Literature Text

Disclaimer: Ahead lies a very long one-shot with a lot of dialog and pointless interaction....also, gay men. Read at your own risk!
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


The life of an art auctioneer is something like that of an unrequited love. Spending each passing day amidst the most gorgeous creations on earth; longing nothing more than to have them for yourself, only to watch them gift-wrapped and taken home by another man. Of course, the lust felt between two human beings and the lust of a man toward a true piece of art; while possessing many similarities, are also quite thoroughly separate.
I remember being the impressionable young age of fourteen when I laid eyes on my first love; "Waterloo Bridge, soleil dans le brouillard" by the magnificent Claude Monet. Even as a boy I was absolutely taken by the painting's ability to show so much but so little at the same time. It was an alluring, mysterious beauty; like the meeting of a stranger you remember for the rest of your life. It was that painting that brought me to London ten years later.
My mother never appreciated my decision to dedicate the rest of my life to art. I'd promised my father on his death bed that I would go to medical school; which I did, of course. But the moment I completed my education, I moved on to a greater one. I must admit; the life of an auctioneer is the profession an aspiring artist with no talent of their own ultimately chooses, but it is still fulfilling enough just to be in the intoxicating atmosphere.
"I have £250,000. Do I hear 260?" My particular profession of choice could be considered an art in it's own right. Tiny white signs jutting out of the large human mass centered in the room; barely visible for even a split second. To overlook someone would be the end of your career in an instant, so it could prove to be quite the trying task. I was a pro, though, after a year on the job-and an additional several months of internships-I was always right on top of things, and managed to pull people higher on prices than would normally be offered. A personal gift, I would say.
This particular painting, though, was hardly worth the money, I thought. It was simple, ugly; a warehouse painting that was only here due to a lack of anything else to auction off. Really the only thing going for it was it's age, which I suppose many people focus on solely when determining value. I, on the other hand, couldn't see the painting making £50,000, let alone £250,000.
My eyes gravitated toward a figure in the back of the room. He was tall, with raven hair as black as his designer, D&G suit. He had his index finger and thumb rolling a thin, unlit cigarette between his fingers; appearing rather disinterested in the auction at hand, but every few moments he would raise his little white sign to keep the price of this pathetic painting rising higher.
As I observed his demeanor, he rose his head to match my gaze with eyes as frigid as ice. That look stopped me in my tracks, causing me to stammer out the next bid of £260,000. I think it was because this man continued to bid on this piece of junk, that people believed it was really worth something and offered their money on it.
"I have £260,000. Do I have 270,000?" This time the room remained still. My eyes once again traveled to the mysterious bidder in the back but he did nothing but fish into his front pocket as if looking for his keys to leave. "270,000, anyone?" I would normally attempt to pry another 10K or so out of the audience, but really felt like a thief asking so much money for such a painting. "£270,000, sold to the woman in red."




"You did well today, West," My boss, an older gentlemen with charcoal-grey hair and garishly colored suits, approached me with a congratulatory pat on the back, "I wasn't expecting the 19th Century to sell for so much."
"Just a lucky day, I suppose, sir." I replied modestly. In fact, I didn't feel responsible for the sale that day. My thoughts went back to that blue-eyed stranger, wondering just what his motives were in the auction room earlier that day. As the older man beside me began to go into detail about the sales the next day, though, I cast the thought from my mind. Just another collector, I told myself.




As the night progressed, I made my way to a ritzy bar downtown to meet an old friend of mine-we'd been college buddies, and when I moved to London, she moved with me to pursue a music career. Now she's the second violinist in one of the world's most prestigious orchestras, and I'm a humble art auctioneer.
She was always easy to make out in a crowd due to her huge hoop earrings and frizzy brown hair with red-highlights. Not to mention the elaborate dresses she always wore that reminded me of some ancient Greek goddess. Today was flirty, a red dress with an open back. Aphrodite, I suppose.
"Kamaria!" I called to my old friend, failing to notice the taller gentleman in her presence  until the two of them turned to address my approach.
I almost stopped in my tracks as I noticed it to be the same gentleman from the auction-bold blue eyes and dark locks that styled casually on his head. An expression of pure confusion took control of my features, allowing Kamaria the foresight necessary to introduce us.
"Oh, West, this is my step-brother that I've told you about." She explained, chuckling at my confused expression as she sipped a slender glass of champagne, "Nathan, this is my old college friend, West."
Now dawning the name Nathan; the dark-haired stranger extended his hand to me. I wasn't sure whether or not to mention seeing him before, but as he didn't appear to recognize me, I just put on a smile and shook his hand, "Nice to meet you, Nathan, I've heard a lot of great things about you."
"Likewise." Was his simple response, his firm grip only lasting as long as was necessary before he pulled away and returned that hand to his pocket; the other hand fiddling with the same unlit cigarette at his side.
Kamaria eyed her step-brother's less than polite behavior before smiling apologetically to me, "He's visiting from the US, I'm letting him stay with me for a month while he visits London."
"Oh? Any reason in particular for coming?" I asked curiously, my usual attempt at cordial conversation, attempting to disguise an underlying intrigue.
Nathan shrugged his expensively dressed shoulders, glancing beyond us as if something caught his eye, "Just visiting, excuse me." He replied quickly before brushing by to go meet a group of women that entered the bar.
I was watching after him as Kamaria spoke again, "Sorry about him, he's a bit antisocial." She chuckled again, patting my shoulder to bring my attention back to her, "Want something to drink?"
"Oh, sure." I nodded, directing my attention to the bartender and ordering a scotch. I was never much of a champagne drinker, myself, "So I remember you mentioning your mother remarrying years ago, I never knew you were close with your step-siblings, though."
"I wasn't." Kamaria shrugged, "We were all grown, doing our own thing, so we really never had the opportunity to meet. But a couple months back my mom called me about meeting with Nathan in the States."
"That was the 'family emergency' you ditched me and two tickets to Circe du Soleil for?" I asked with a teasing smirk.
She simply smirked back at me before continuing, "He's older than us, 30, I think. So it was the first time I'd met him in person, since he's always busy with whatever it is he does for a living. But he told me he was coming to London for a month and asked me about good hotels in the area. I offered that he just stay with me." She shrugged, "You know he's got a big interest in art, like you. My mom told me his house is filled with all these collector's items."
"Really?" I attempted to act surprised. It only made me wonder more why such a collector would bid on such a crappy painting, but now wasn't the time to dwell on it, "Well, I'd like to talk to him about it if he's ever a bit more social." I remarked, half joking.
Kamaria nodded in agreement as she looked over to Nathan socializing with several women, apparently flirting enough to set them into fits of giggles, "I have an idea. I invited him to my rehearsal this weekend, why don't you come too? That'll give you two an opportunity to talk."
"You sure about that? He hardly seems like the guy who likes being cornered into a conversation…"
"Oh come on, he's gonna be here for a month, it'll be good for him to make some friends. Good for you, too." She winked at me then, hopefully not for the reason I thought she did.
One gift Kamaria had, besides being a music virtuoso, is the ability to convince anyone to do anything. Myself included. Ultimately, we set a time and I was returning home after another couple drinks wondering what the hell I was going to talk to this guy about. I was never the most socially outgoing person myself. I could act it, sure, but on a one-on-one basis, I was a little…how do you say? Awkward.




Two days and a strong espresso later, I was preparing my greeting in my head as I took a taxi to the performance hall where Kamaria's orchestra rehearsed. She told me to get there a little after Nathan, so he couldn't make an excuse to leave. I must admit, the fact that that was necessary was a little unnerving for me, but I could never say no to Kamaria, not even when she proposed we pretend to be a couple so she could get into some "interracial couple club" that had good shopping discounts.
The performance hall itself was a real work of art. Walls lined in gold and silver, granite stair-rails, not to mention a breath-taking mural on the ceiling reminiscent of Michelangelo's greatest works. The auditorium itself was sparsely occupied by a few family members, agents, and press. It took me a moment to point out where Kamaria was standing with Nathan near the front stage. She noticed me enter and waved me over, preventing me from wimping out at the last minute and leaving. Damn.
"I'm glad you could make it." Kamaria gave me a knowing smile as I came over to them, exchanging a pair of cordial cheek-kisses. Now, as I'd mentioned before, when it came to individual social interaction, I was incredibly awkward. Maybe it was in part due to my underlying feeling that Nathan had absolutely no interest in knowing I existed, but in that moment, my idiocy shield was malfunctioning, to say the least. Instead of stopping with Kamaria, I turned to Nathan and planted two kisses on his cheeks as well; the latter of which landing a little closer to his lips than I had planned.
An awkward silence followed as Kamaria was slightly confused, I was incredibly embarrassed, and Nathan just sort of looked at me like I'd just mentioned eating a cat on my way over.
"Oh…I…" I began to work up an apology even before my mind was working again, but was luckily cut short as Kamaria interjected and saved me from that humiliating moment.
"Well I need to get up there and tune." She chuckled, patting each of our shoulder's, "Hang around until the end, okay? I've got a special announcement when I'm done." She grinned, possibly just as a means of keeping either of us from leaving, before turning to hop up on stage.
Nathan let out a gentle breath as he sat down. I awkwardly sat down beside him, being sure not to touch shoulders or knees or anything else that would've made this interaction even more awkward than it already was. I noticed him reach into his pocket and pull out another unlit cigarette; rolling it between his fingers and bending his wrist to bring the tip to his lips.
"Are you trying to quit?" I asked, attempting at casual conversation while we waited for the practice to start.
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye; giving me another glimpse of those amazing blue eyes, "What?"
The slight harshness of his response took me back a little, making me reconsider this entire encounter once again. But instead, I motioned my head toward the slim cigarette between his perfectly shaped fingers, "You had one the other day, too. But it's not lit."
"Oh." He pulled the cigarette from his lips to look at it briefly, twirling it between his fingers like a high school kid twirls his pen boredly in class, "I've got an oral fixation."
I'd been preparing a polite 'ah' in response, however a response it may've been, but upon hearing that it came out more as a cough; which I so expertly covered up by clearing my throat, "O-oh.." I felt my cheeks heat up as I attempted to think of a logical response, before noticing the slightest hint of amusement on his features and my look of embarrassment shifted to more of offense, "That was a joke?"
"Hm?" He glanced at me again, his eyes glimmering with the slightest of smiles that hovered on his lips. That look must have melted the hearts of a hundred girls in his days, I know it was melting mine right then, "No, it's true. It's just not the reason I'm always carrying this around."
"So…you are trying to quit?" I asked, still confused, and now just feeling like an idiot for responding like a complete prude.
He nodded his head, "Six months and the urge never goes away." He explained, "I've been carrying this same cigarette since I quit."
"Wow. Impressive." I smiled, relaxing a little as we seemed to finally be arriving at some form of a normal conversation, "Well congratulations, I've heard how hard it is to quit."
Nathan shrugged in response, turning his attention ahead to where the orchestra was tuning up their instruments in unison. I couldn't help but stare at him a little bit then, while having the chance of him not noticing. As someone who works around art all the time, I had quite an appreciate for any kind of art; including the artistic perfection of a jawline. Nathan just happened to be one of those people who looked absolutely perfect. A strong, masculine jaw, perfectly shaped nose, full lips and of course those gorgeous eyes.
I always considered myself rather plain in comparison. My eyes were brown, my hair was brown, that was it. I was average height, around 5'9, while Nathan had to be at least 6'0. Not to mention the perfectly pressed suits he wore that practically screamed how expensive they cost just by the quality of the fabric. On this particular day he wore a more casual black suit jacket with a black sweater underneath that showed off just a glimpse of his collarbone. His pants were black slacks, not too tight but not at all loose or baggy; and his shoes were black leather that probably cost more than my weekly income.
"What do you do for a living?" I found myself asking, retrieving Nathan's gaze once again. He seemed slightly surprised by the question, but that emotion only lasted a moment before it was once again engulfed by his permanent expression of indifference.
"I'm an actor." He replied, "Theatre mostly, but I'm transitioning into film soon."
"Wow, really?" I found myself constantly impressed by this guy. I suddenly felt incredibly humble sitting there next to him, "Is that why you're in London?"
"Yeah, met with the director and producers about the movie."
"Is it a big blockbuster?" I asked curiously, wondering if I was sitting next to the next Brad Pitt. He definitely had the looks for it.
"Guess so." He shrugged, seeming slightly amused by my curiosity, "It's an adaptation of the play I was in for twelve weeks; Overture of Angels."
"I've heard of that!" I sounded a little too enthusiastic, immediately after quieting myself and mentally slapping myself for being such a star struck imbecile, "That was off broadway, wasn't it?"
"Mhmm, you interested in theatre?"
"Well…to be honest the only thing I've ever seen was Wicked…but I'm in the art industry myself, so word gets around. Overture of Angels was getting a lot of play in the news for the amazing male…lead…" My words trailed off toward the end as I realized that Nathan was, in fact, the male lead that was getting all of the press. How had I not connected these dots before?
Nathan seemed a little turned off by my sudden fanboyish behavior, and turned his attention back to the orchestra as he fiddled with his unlit cigarette. I nibbled on my bottom lip momentarily, trying to recover some ounce of dignity in this conversation. So far, I figured I'd just managed to come off as a complete loser with no experience in conversation; but soon enough I was proven wrong.
"You wanna go get drinks somewhere?" Nathan offered, still looking ahead.
I was left gaping at him in surprise until I noticed just what I was doing and cleared my throat, "Um, really? I mean…Kamaria asked us to stay until the end."
"She was lying, come on." He insisted, getting to his feet  and already heading out of the auditorium before I had the chance to speak. I quickly scrambled up to follow him, looking back toward the stage over my shoulder to see Kamaria winking at me. I should've known this was her plan all along.




Nathan led the way to one of the most expensive hotels in the city; which at first caused me to question his intentions, until we entered to a classy bar in the lobby fit for kings. Or, at least, movie stars. "Have you been here before?" I asked curiously as we made our way to the bar counter.
"Yeah, best I've had." He nodded, waving down the bartender and ordering us both a scotch. Either he knew what sort of drink I liked just my looking at me or had the gull to order for his drinking partner; either way it was a turn on.
"Just what I like." I smiled as we sat down.
"I know, I remember you ordering it the other day." He replied casually as he nodded his head to a flirtatious young woman passing by.
I was a little confused at first, considering he'd walked away before I ordered a drink. But that was even more impressive; meaning he was observant enough to tell what I was drinking from across the room. That made me wonder if he actually went out of his way to notice me. I told myself not to get my hopes up.
"Well then, good memory."
He changed the subject, "How long have you been auctioning paintings?"
Once again, I was staring at the handsome man across from me like a deer in headlights long enough for my mind to start functioning again, "I didn't know you recognized me."
There was a brief pause as the bartender brought us our drinks and Nathan took a sip of his scotch, "Kamaria told me you were an auctioneer, so I went to see for myself."
I felt my cheeks growing hot again at the thought that he'd only been there to see me. I forced a soft chuckle to disguise my surprise, "Is that why you were bidding so high on such a poor painting?"
He quirked a brow at that remark, once again appearing amused by my stupidity. For a moment I worried that he disagreed, until he spoke, "I wanted to see how far I could get that old woman in the front to go. Apparently she's willing to spend that kind of money on something barely worth a train-ride."
For the first time since we met, we laughed together; of course his laugh being far more subdued and dignified than my own. Regardless, it felt nice, like we were actually getting along. I watched him momentarily as he sipped his scotch and twirled that unlit cigarette between his fingers. Was he resisting the addiction right now? Somehow that thought made me like him even more, and somewhere deep down I felt something click. Despite myself, I was falling for this man I barely knew.




Several days passed after the night at the bar. Kamaria took advantage of our budding friendship to drag me and Nathan along with her on her various shopping excursions. Nathan would attend some of my art auctions, once again pulling old, gullible bidders to pay more than they needed to on antiques worth far less than they thought. I had a feeling that Kamaria was trying to set the two of us up; based on the fact she would often find ways of leaving the two of us alone. That only got my hopes up further, wondering if, despite his constant flirtations with attractive women, if he were at all interested in me in return.
"You bought one of my favorite paintings today." I told Nathan as we made our way out of the auction hall after the latest sale. I was quite surprised when Nathan actually won a painting; an old 18th century piece of a solemn young woman amidst beautiful flowers.
"That right?" he asked as he slipped a receipt for his purchase into his wallet and returned it to his back pocket, "It reminded me of you."
"What?" My response was a little quicker than intended. It was the first real comment Nathan had made that suggested he liked me, at all. In fact, if I didn't know any better, it sounded like a bit of a flirtation to me. "What do you mean?"
"The woman." He began to explain, "You have similar features and posture. Like your eyes."
"Wow.." I found myself saying that a lot in regard to him, only this time it was more in response to how well such a seemingly indifferent man could say such flattering things. I didn't know if he was flirting with me, or suggesting anything more than that I look like a woman, but I liked to think he was, "I'm flattered…"
He smiled slightly at that, checking his designer rolex before glancing back at me, "Want to show me your place?" he suggested.
There was a brief moment of us looking at each other; him awaiting my response and me trying to comprehend what he'd just said, "What for?"
He gave me that same look he did when I kissed his cheek; like I was a complete idiot, "What for?"
"Oh!" I gasped, realizing what he meant and once again felt like a complete idiot. I quickly nodded my head, accepting the suggestion before even considering it. As he waved down a taxi, I felt an entire flock of butterflies making themselves at home in my gut. Was this it? He just invited himself over my apartment. Either I was way too traditional, or he was really into interior decoration.




"Here we are." I attempted to keep the nervousness from my words as I unlocked my front door and welcomed Nathan into my modest apartment. I thanked god that I was a tidy person by nature, so it wasn't entirely embarrassing having him over on short notice. "Want something to drink?" I offered.
"Sure." Nathan nodded, eying the interior of my home, taking special notice of a few classic paintings decorating my walls.
I headed into the kitchen, looking through the fridge and cursing myself for not going to the store recently. There was one can of beer, water, and milk; nothing very impressive for a guest. "Is water fine?" I called back to him as I took out two water bottles, turning around to be met by a pair of perfectly full lips against mine.
Luckily I had the fridge right behind me to lean against or the sudden dizziness that followed would've surely knocked me over. He was so sweet and warm and perfect, and almost instantly my breaths came in heated pants and my cheeks flushed. Nathan loomed over me as he displayed another area of expertise with his tongue, taking the two water bottles from my hands and tossing them into the sink.
My thoughts came in tidal waves, ultimately washing everything away so that the only thing I could think or feel was our bodies together; his arms around me; the discarding of clothes. It was the best night of my life.



A gentle heat on my face brought me from my comfortable sleep the next morning. I opened my eyes to see a pigeon grooming itself on the rooftop opposite my building; the sun shining and the skies as clear and blue as Nathan's eyes. Remembering the events of the previous night brought a smile to my lips, as I sat up and stretched out my back, only to find that I was alone.
Nathan wasn't laying beside me, his clothes and shoes were gone. I looked to the bathroom but he wasn't there, either. No note on the night stand, no text on my phone, nothing. I felt my heart sink as I realized the reality of the situation. That sinking feeling kept me from leaving my bed for another hour or so, before I finally got out of bed to shower and get ready for work. Part of me hoped he just had to leave early and would be at the auction house waiting for me, but as I came out into my living room, I noticed a half-smoked cigarette in a wine glass on my kitchen table. That cigarette told me everything.



"I talked to my mom today, she said Nathan's been busy with his movie release and she hasn't spoken to him." Kamaria spoke from the other line as I sat on my couch, holding my phone in one hand and the remote in the other. It had been almost a year since he disappeared, and even as I've clarified that I'm fine with it, Kamaria has insisted upon tracking him down for me and making him explain himself.
"That makes sense." Was my reply, not really wanting to hear another long conversation about how disappointed in Nathan she was, and how sorry she felt for me. I never even told her we'd slept together, but I think she figured it out on her own.
"West.." Her sigh brought me back to focus on her, instead of the infomercial on TV advertising hair-curlers.
"I'm fine, Kamaria, really…It's been a year, I've moved on."
"It still doesn't justify what he did."
"Well I should've expected it, who's ever heard of a trustworthy movie star?" I chuckled in an attempt to lighten the conversation, but she wasn't having any of it.
"I just wish I could help you get closure. He just disappeared, he never even got his things from my apartment."
"Maybe he was in a hurry." I shrugged, not wanting to think too much about it. I'd spent the first four months after he left trying to justify his leaving. It made me sick, so now I just want to rid it from my mind.
"I don't know…but whenever I do manage to get a hold of him, I'm gonna kick his ass for you, hun."
"Thanks." I chuckled softly again, though my attention was taken from the television this time.
'There is a fine line between faith and fabrication' Read the text on the screen, that fading to several quickly cut scenes and the slightest flash of something familiar. Then more text, 'How far would you go?' A man in a black suit is shown shooting another man square between the eyes; his face not visible on screen. Then an exploding building and other dramatic special effects, 'To justify the mistakes of your past?'
I felt my heart stop when the next clip came on; a very handsome man with icy blue eyes and wind-tossed black hair forcing another man against a wall, "I want some answers!" was his line; those beautiful lips curved into a tormented scowl.
I couldn't hear Kamaria's voice anymore, my eyes were transfixed on the screen. As I noticed something else, I quickly paused the image and leant forward further. Behind the two men, visible between them on a far wall, was that very same painting I saw when I was a fourteen year old boy. That same painting that inspired me to be what I am now. That painting that showed so little and so much at the same time; like meeting a stranger you would remember for the rest of your life.
I knew it must have been some coincidence, but it somehow felt like Nathan was speaking to me through that movie teaser. He was that painting. Or at least something close. He was a stranger, someone I hardly knew, who, whether I liked it or not, I would remember for the rest of my life. And maybe that was okay.
"West! Where the hell are you?!" Kamaria's panicked voice billowed through my apartment, snapping me out of my epiphany.
"Sorry, Kamaria…" I replied, pressing the pause button on my remote again to let the rest of the trailer play through. I smiled to myself as the title of the film filled the screen.
Overture of Angels.
"I have a feeling things will be okay."
This is just a story I came up with on a whim, partially inspired by "How to Steal a Million", a 1966 film with Peter O'Toole and Audrey Hepburn. I rushed it a little bit, since I sort of just wanted to get it done in one go, so I may return to this later on to revise it and make it something I'm happier with...

Anyway, for those of you who take the time to actually read it, enjoy! ^^;
Comments17
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
BURNTpancakes's avatar
OMG ...
it's so gooooood!

XD I just LOVE long fics, you made my day! OwO do you post your stories anywhere else?