I’m finally revisiting the characters from The River City Chronicles nine years after their original timeline. I’ll be running the series weekly here on my blog, and then will release it in book form at the end of the run. Hope you enjoy catching up with all your faves and all their new secrets!
Today, Marissa and Ainsley have a second date… sort of. Or is it a group hang?…
< Read Chapter Twenty-Three
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Chapter Twenty-Four
At the Gallery…
Marissa dried her head with a fluffy white towel. Her hair was naturally a little curly—when she’d been in high school, she’d straightened it, but now she let it kink up a little. She’d also given up the bleached-blond look ages before, though sometimes she added a little purple, which complemented her brown hair nicely. Adulting had its perks.
Still, sometimes she missed those high school days. Not the sleeping on the streets part, or the small room she lived in at the back of Twink. The tattoo shop had closed a few years earlier when the landlord had decided to build some of those new toy-sized apartments that were so popular in Midtown. She hadn’t seen the shop owner, Rex, in ages.
She still carried his work on her arms, though—a gorgeous rose-encrusted skull on her left bicep, and a stylish black cat on her right—and she and Tris had gotten matching tats together. Another name from my past.
No, what she missed was the sense of something new every day. Of possibility. The proximity to everything Sacramento had to offer. It was no San Francisco, but the River City had its own big small town charm. Living out here in the suburbs, the world was often boring and gray.
She checked the time—it was just 8:15 AM. Not bad.
Ainsley’s text had come out of the blue the night before, asking if she wanted to tag along to help set up for some kind of gallery opening. Which was only fair, as she’d sprung the Ragazzi cooking thing on Ainsley at the last minute too.
Marissa closed her eyes. She could still feel the heat of Ainsley’s lips on hers. She rubbed her finger across them lightly, making them tingle.
She hadn’t used any of her sick days yet at her new job, so she’d called into work and let them know she wasn’t feeling well—No, it isn’t Covid. Yes, I tested—and took the day off.
Slipping into a bright blue t-shirt and faded jeans and her gray Sketchers—this was a working date, after all—she was off to see her maybe, possibly, could-be new girlfriend.
#
The Red Roof Gallery was tucked away on one of Sacramento’s back alleys—in an old converted home with a bright-red terracotta roof.
Marissa found a spot on 19th street, chucked in a handful of quarters—parking in Midtown and Downtown was so expensive now, and she wasn’t sure if the new arena was worth it, not when she could park for free back home. Living in the suburbs does have some advantages.
A rented box truck took up half the alley, its lift-door up and metal ramp out. A small crew was carrying narrow crates down the ramp and through the door of the open gallery.
The front of the building was painted a bright, almost blinding white, surely meant to convey edgy-fresh-new. Marissa shielded her eyes and ducked inside, between workers carrying crates.
The place smelled new, too. The inside walls were as black as the outside was white, making the windows look like bright portals in a sea of darkness. The whole downstairs was one large room, except for a sectioned off part at the back—she could see a refrigerator and part of a sink through the open doorway. A white staircase rose ghost-like out of the gloom toward the second floor.
“Marissa!” Ainsley came into view as Marissa’s eyes adjusted to the darkness. “I’m so glad you came.” She hugged Marissa and kissed her on the cheek, making Marissa’s heart beat a little faster. “This is Alyn…” She pointed to a college-age guy with dirty blond hair who grinned as he was introduced.
“Pleased to meet you.” He held out his hand and shook hers eagerly.
“I met Alyn at University Art last week. He’s an art major. I thought this would be good experience for him.”
Marissa hid a frown. She hadn’t counted on this being a group hang. “Who’s the artist?”
Ainsley’s face lit up like she’d been plugged into one of the painted-black wall sockets that were trying so hard not to be noticed near the floorboards. “Jun Seo Jang. They’re amazing. That’s them, next to Kelton, the gallery owner.”
Marissa nodded automatically, as if she knew of them. The name did sound familiar…
“All right everyone. How many of you have hung a show before?” Kelton stepped into the center of the gallery, under the bright light, like a carnival barker. He had a booming, take-charge voice that filled the small space.
Alyn raised his hand. So did Ainsley.
“I thought you were a biology major,” Marissa whispered.
“I do art too.” She sounded a little defensive.
“Sorry.” Here just three minutes, and already stepping in it.
Kelton nodded. “Great. You there…” He checked his clipboard. “Ainsley Kim?”
She nodded and stepped forward, like in the military or something. “Yes sir.” Mock salute and all.
“You’ll be working directly with Mx. Jang. I’ll leave it up to you to direct the others.”
The artist smiled at them warmly. “Thank you for coming out to help. This is my first California show, and I really want it to go well.” Their English was perfect. Like school perfect.
Why not San Francisco, then? She figured they had their reasons. “You’re welcome.”
“Do you know my art?” They flashed a charming smile at her.
“Not that I’m aware of… maybe when I see it…?” I should have looked him up this morning.
“That I can help with.” They turned to Ainsley. “Want to help me crack open these crates?”
The two of them picked up hammers and used them to gently pry open the first of the painting crates. They were more like pallets than crates, assembled around each piece to protect it from the vagaries of shipping. Soon the two of them had the first one freed from its confinement. They turned it around.
Marissa whistled. It was gorgeous.
The frame was ivory, or looked like it—she hoped it was fake. It would be stunning against the black walls.
The work itself seemed to glow. It was a streetscape at night, one with a distinctly Asian feel. Golden lanterns seemed to glow with a light of their own under red awnings and sloped roofs decked out in gray, green and blue ceramic tiles.
“It’s breathtaking.” She had seen paintings like it before, somewhere… “Did you have a show in Chicago last year, by any chance?”
The artist smiled. “Yes, at the Korean Cultural Center. Were you there?”
She laughed. What are the odds? “Yes. I went there on a trip with my nonna—my grandma—and we were walking by after dinner and popped in to see the show. This one is exquisite.”
“It’s called Jeonju at Night.” They seemed pleased.
Ainsley touched her arm, sending a shiver up her spine. “Aren’t they amazing?”
“Yes.” Did Ainsley have a little crush on the artist?
She squeezed Marissa’s arm. “Alyn, you want to show ‘Riss how we hang these? The spots are all marked.”
She blinked. No one had called her “Riss” since her high school boyfriend Tris. She wasn’t altogether sure how she felt about it.
“Sure. Come on.” Alyn took her hand and whisked her along.
Ainsley was right. Each painting’s location had a tacked sticky note with the title on it. Alyn grabbed the toolbox from one corner and proceeded to show her how to hang the first one.
The work was simple enough—measure, pound the nails, hang the piece, level it off—but the paintings were heavy and awkward, and by lunchtime Marissa was sweating and her back ached a little. Plus, the day was turning out to be far less fun date and far more forced manual labor than she had anticipated. Ainsley was busy with “The Artist,” and she was stuck with sweet but very young Alyn and his student chatter. She was considering backing out and heading home for the afternoon when Ainsley grabbed her hand.
“Come on!” She led her toward the stairs.
“Where are we going?
“Upstairs!”
She stuck out her tongue. “What’s upstairs? I don’t want to go upstairs. Why doesn’t Alyn have to go upstairs?”
Ainsley ignored her pitch-perfect Gilmore Girls impersonation. “You’ll see.”
“Be careful… I’m a little creaky at the moment.” Her leg muscles protested as she was dragged up the white stairs to the second floor.
“Just a little farther. I promise. Kel said we could use it.” Her grin was infectious.
The second-floor walls were painted a bright red, with a black spiral staircase in the center.
“More stairs?” Marissa groaned.
Ainsley kissed her cheek. “Come on! It will be totally worth it.”
Dragged up the narrow metal stairs, she bit her lip to keep from groaning.
There was a short landing up top, ending in a white door. Ainsley flung it open to reveal a wide terrace, bathed in sunlight. In the middle was a bistro table, covered with a checkered tablecloth and topped with a vase, filled with bright golden sunflowers. “Ta-da!”
“What is this?” Marissa blinked in the bright light.
“It’s the Red Roof terrace—they use it for the wine and cheese reception during the gallery shows, when the weather is good.” She grinned. “Kel… Mr. O’Malley said we could have a private lunch up here.” She knelt at a small cooler next to the door. “It’s not much, but I brought sandwiches, potato chips, and sodas.”
Marissa perked up. “So it’s not a group hang?”
Ainsley looked over her shoulder. “What?”
“Never mind.” She pulled Ainsley into her arms and planted a kiss on those delectable lips. “It’s perfect.” Maybe I’m not such a terrible person after all.
As if on cue, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She’d told work they could reach her on her cell, if necessary. She disentangled herself. “Let me just check this.”
Ainsley grinned. “I’ll get lunch set up.”
It was a text. From Gio, of course. She rolled her eyes. Why right now? She was just starting to feel better about things. Reluctantly, she opened the app.
I’m going to Rome. Be happy for me.
Sha stared at it for a moment, and then a smile spread across her face. She was happy for him. She really was.
And she was happy for herself that he was happy.
Good luck! She texted back.
“Anything important?” Ainsley arched an eyebrow.
She shook her head. “Just an old friend.” She snuggled up behind Ainsley, putting her arms around her waist, content. “Let’s have lunch.”
< Read Chapter Twenty-Three
Like what you read? if you haven’t tried it yet, check out book one, The River City Chronicles, here.