A Light in the Dark_Survival of the Fittest Read online

As Brie continued to explain da Vinci’s origins, snippets of whispered conversation distracted him.

  “It’s him,” the first voice hissed.

  “You’re mad,” a male student cut in, “How could he have gotten in here? What’s the acceptance rate now? Less than twenty percent?”

  Bailey shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was used to people talking about him, but usually he wasn’t in the middle of it. Most forms of gossip about himself or any of the other guys in the band resulted from tabloids or internet chatter which could be either laughed at or ignored.

  “He has enough money. He probably paid someone or made a donation to the school.” They halted when Brie turned and gazed in their direction, but when her back was to them once again, they returned to their incessant gossip.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if he paid someone off. That’s what celebrities do, isn’t it? He’ll flame out before the year’s over.”

  The deep timbre of a male chuckle sounded.

  “Or, he could’ve played the sympathy card. He like, almost died a few years ago.”

  They kept whispering, but he didn’t hear the rest of what they were saying. Bailey’s stomach sank as the thin shred of hope he’d been clinging to on the off chance they were talking about someone else snapped.

  Brie turned and stalked in their direction. “I’m sorry, was there something you wanted to add? Because, I would be shocked if you know something about da Vinci that I don’t. For example, did you know that after completing his apprenticeship, he stayed on as an assistant in Verrocchio's shop and that his earliest known painting is in Verrocchio's Baptism of Christ circa 1475? Leonardo executed one of the two angels as well as the distant landscape, and he added the final touches to the figure of Christ, determining the texture of the flesh.”

  She stood, hands on hips, back straight, daring the two behind him to comment further. “No? Well, then please don’t interrupt me again or you will be asked to leave.” When she reached the front of the room again, she leveled her gaze at the entire class. “Keep in mind that I find there is no better time to offer a pop quiz than after disrespectful students are asked to leave.”

  Bailey grinned, but had the sense to keep his eyes lowered to his laptop. As Brie returned to her lecture, he listened to her with a renewed respect. She was without doubt as brilliant as she was beautiful and her passion for art, well, he was envious. It’s what he’d lost, that kind of drive and passion for something. He sat up straighter in his seat and returned to his notes, more determined than before to succeed.

  ~ ~ ~

  Situated with coffee, a stack of student papers, and research books of her own, Brie hunkered down in the Theory Studio and settled into the silence. The Studio as the students referred to it, offered a peaceful environment to work on their postgraduate research. It was a cozy space lined with shelves of books and a few tables. She’d spent a fair amount of time tucked away inside its walls. She liked it better than the library because it wasn’t far from her flat, and tonight, it was empty.

  The confrontation in her morning class had been a precursor for the rest of her day, a sign she failed to notice until later. Between almost being run over by a guy on a bike, dropping half her lunch down the front of her shirt, and a leaking pen, she’d had enough.

  She uncapped a fresh red pen and prepared to mark as she read over the first paper in her stack. It wasn’t bad, a little fluffy, but not bad. She made a few notations in the side margin and continued on to the next one. If she could make it through a fourth of the stack in one sitting, she’d be pleased. Staying on schedule was key and unlike Jessica who planned to go out that night, Brie couldn’t do it. After the day she had, she was probably safer inside and away from people.

  One hour turned into two and her coffee turned cold. She paused to rub her eyes and took what was going to have to be her final paper from the stack. As her eyes skimmed over the name at the top, her fingers tensed. She exhaled and then chastised herself for being silly. He was simply a student like any other.

  A crease formed between her eyes as she concentrated on his words. Unlike the papers up until this point, Bailey’s work was reflective. It wasn’t about what he liked about the artist’s use of colors or how the topic of the piece was still relevant in modern times, his spoke of something much more personal.

  The drawing he’d chosen hadn’t been chosen by anyone else thus far, most likely because it was unattractive and unpleasing to look at for any extended period of time, and yet Bailey, who she’d assumed was used to being surrounded by attractive people, referred to the drawing as da Vinci himself once had, a portrait of his inner self. Leonardo da Vinci’s, A Grotesque Head, was by no means one of her favorite pieces in the museum and yet, she was fascinated by what she was reading.

  The waves in the image remind me of inner turmoil and the face, monster like in its grotesque beauty, fills me with an appreciation for the artist. It is as though a man from thousands of years ago read my thoughts as I laid ill for so long. No longer the man I once saw in the mirror, but a changed man full of self-loathing and fear. A man who’d turned bitter and willful in the face of an obstacle.

  Brie let out a breath as she finished and leaned back in her chair. Who was Bailey Honeycutt behind the cocky smile? With renewed energy, she sat up and pulled her laptop out of her bag and with a few strokes did a Google search on Bailey Honeycutt. The sheer volume of articles and pictures depicting him both as part of the band he was famous for and the man himself were staggering.

  She scrolled through the long list of articles and images until the word cancer caught her attention and she clicked on the headline.

  “Bailey Honeycutt, lead guitarist and younger brother of lead singer Oliver Honeycutt from the band Survival of the Fittest, has been diagnosed with APL, which is a type of leukemia. Heartbroken fans gathered outside an Atlanta hospital today in a showing of support armed with candles and flowers. A spokesperson for the family held a press conference earlier where he assured fans that the doctors caught it in time and expect the star to make a full recovery. Honeycutt will remain in Atlanta to undergo treatment.”

  Brie clicked another article, this one from Rolling Stone magazine and read. Then, she clicked another containing an interview from early in the band’s career. She read another and another until she felt she was re-reading information she already knew.

  Her cell phone buzzed across the table, startling her and forcing her to abandon her rather unsuitable research. He was her student and it didn’t matter what he did outside her class. Her job was to teach him about art history and grade the paper in front of her.

  She glanced at the text on her screen. It was Jessica trying one last time to get her to meet her at the pub.

  Brie sighed and typed back: Not happening.

  She slid Bailey’s paper back in front of her and read through it again. As much as she tried to treat his paper as common, she couldn’t. She battled back a wave of shame. Shame for assuming he’d bought his way in. Shame in judging him without knowing him. If his paper was any indication, there was a lot more to him than she’d realized.

  His words and the feeling behind them struck a chord of understanding within her and even now, on her second pass through his paper, she felt pulled to him, some sort of inexplicable need to know more. How did you get here, Bailey Honeycutt?

  Her phone buzzed again and she cursed under her breath.

  Don’t leave me alone here. John’s group is up here and Bailey is with them! Her words were followed with an emoji with hearts in place of the eyes and the poop emoji. Brie snickered through her frustration. Jessica had always had a flare for the dramatic. Typical creative type.

  Before she’d finished reading, her phone buzzed in her hand.

  I’m begging here.

  Followed by another text and then another, ea
ch growing more desperate.

  I’ll do the dishes for a week.

  No, a month.

  Brie hit her head against her phone and regretted her response before she’d typed it.

  Fine. I’ll be there soon.

  There was no way she’d admit to herself or anyone else she wanted to see Bailey, but there was no denying she was captivated by the man behind the smile.

  Chapter 6

  The Bullingdon was a staple in Oxford or so he was told. Not only was it a bar, it served as a concert venue for local talent and the place Bailey’s neighbors had chosen for their night out. He was enjoying himself, though he’d been reluctant to join the guys to celebrate surviving the first couple of weeks of classes. It wasn’t so much he didn’t want to hang out as it was he was enjoying a little bit of notoriety and he wasn’t sure a concert hall was the best place to go for someone trying to lay low.

  The atmosphere was one he was accustomed to, dark room, the smell of stale beer, too many bodies pressed in together, but it was one of the rare times he was part of the crowd. They’d been early enough, at Freddie’s suggestion, that they’d managed to snag a small table and a few chairs in the corner giving them at least an iota of privacy.

  With his back to the crowd, Bailey sipped his beer while John regaled them all with a story about his first time at The Bullingdon and how he’d proceeded to end up on the stage with one of the local bands.

  Freddie held up his glass, “John, you were as pissed as I’d ever seen you, mate.”

  “But, at least I kept my clothes on which is more than ol’ Cohen can say.”

  Cohen held up his hands to gain everyone’s attention. “If I don’t remember it, it didn’t happen.”

  While they argued and finger pointed over who’d embarrassed themselves the most over the years, Jessica leaned in closer. “Ignore these heathens. That’s what the rest of us do.”

  “Ah, they’re not so bad.” Bailey grinned around the top of his bottle as he held it to his lips. “You have to remember, I’m used to being surrounded by a bunch of guys. There’s nothing they can say that will shock me.”

  “I bet you have some good stories from the road.” Jessica slid over in her seat until her elbow was on the arm of his chair. “Maybe you could tell me a few sometime.”

  “Oh, I know a few.” Bailey caught Cohen watching them out of the corner of his eye and pulled out his cell as though receiving a call. “Hey, I’ll be right back.”

  Obviously deflated, Jessica pulled away and rejoined the other’s conversation. He hated to brush her off, she was a nice enough girl, but he wasn’t one to encroach on another man’s lady, even if said lady didn’t know she was spoken for. Poor, quiet Cohen needed to man up.

  Bailey pushed his way outside and slipped his phone back into his pocket while inhaling a deep breath of cold air. Through the window, he could see the group laughing and drinking and there was poor Cohen staring at Jessica like a statue in the background. Maybe he’d have to come up with a plan to help the poor bastard out.

  He chuckled and turned back to face the road. Unlike the quiet street he and his friends lived on, Crowley was a main thoroughfare through town. The smell of cooking food floated on the air from one of the restaurants further down the street and cars whizzed past. The atmosphere couldn’t have been more different than back in the states and yet, it worked. Everyone and everything in Oxford seemed smooshed in closer together, student life a world of its own, and he was part of it. At least, most of the time he was.

  Heels clicked on the pavement and he turned toward the sound. “Hello, Miss Freeman.”

  She stopped and her cheeks flooded with color. “Brie, please. We aren’t in class, remember?”

  “Okay then, Brie.” Her name brought a smile to his lips as he said it aloud. “Are you headed inside?”

  She glanced through the window at the others and sighed. “Jessica is determined that I do. It seems she can’t live without me.”

  The thought of her being inside with them lifted his spirits. He said a silent thank you to Jessica in his mind.

  He held out a hand in the direction of the door. “Shall we?” She winced as the first chords from the band sounded from inside. “Not a fan of these guys?”

  She shook her head and sent her dark hair swinging. “The band is fine I’m sure, but the crowd looks intense.” She rotated her shoulders in a way that made it seem like she was warming up for a game.

  “We don’t have to go in.”

  “No, it’s fine.” Seeming to gather her courage, she passed him on her way to the door. “I just have to mentally prepare myself. I’ve been here dozens of times, but I’m usually earlier.”

  Bailey opened the door and allowed her to pass and as she did the smell of her perfume chased away everyone and everything else. As though intoxicated, he followed her to where their group was listening to the music blaring from the stage. Jessica stood to hug her friend and moved over so they could share a seat. With the addition of Drew and Mei, who’d been dating since their initial meeting at the beginning of term, the space had shrunk.

  “What took you so long?” Jessica’s words weren’t slurring, but her volume was rising. He expected she’d be yelling how every song was her favorite and telling everyone how much she loved them soon enough.

  “I told you I had work to do, papers to grade, remember?”

  Jessica waved a hand as though shooing away a fly. “How long can that really take? They’re freshman, not poets. Slap a grade on there and go.”

  Brie’s gaze shifted briefly in his direction. “You might be surprised.”

  The group listened to the band for the better part of an hour and their corner was by far the loudest in the crowded room. The guys had their arms around each other’s necks and as they sang, they swayed causing more than a few people to look in their direction and more than a little beer to splatter to the floor. When Bailey spotted two girls who were sitting nearby taking pictures with their phones, he turned away and pulled his hat lower over his eyes.

  Due to the late hour, the crowd had grown and pushed him closer to Brie to the point their arms were touching. His fingers brushed hers and she shoved her hands in her pockets. When that didn’t suit her, she crossed her arms over her chest. He did his best to plant his feet and bear the brunt of the crowd’s weight to keep it off her, but with the return of the band after a break it grew harder to hold his place.

  “Hey, you,” a guy called from Bailey’s left. “Aren’t you that guy from that band?”

  A girl dressed in jeans and a halter top who was leaning heavily against her partner pointed. “Yeah, you’re that guy from Survival of the Fittest. I’ve seen you on the telly.”

  A few heads swiveled in Bailey’s direction and then phones were raised, poised for pictures.

  “I’m just checking out tonight’s entertainment.” He looked forward to try to drive his point home, but a drunken group of people aren’t ones for subtlety.

  The couple who’d spotted him first pushed their way over until they were beside him. “How about a picture?”

  The girl slung her arm around his waist and leaned in to take a selfie. Bailey smiled and nodded, hoping that would be the end of it, but then another person came over and another until their corner was overrun with strangers. They pressed in close, forcing his group of friends back until they were against the wall. Used to the spotlight, he managed the situation as well as possible, but when he glanced toward Brie, her face was white. Jessica was next to her, but she was oblivious, too caught up in whatever Freddie was saying and the blasting music to notice.

  He smiled for a picture with the two ladies flanking him, thanked them, and then held up his hands. “I’m sorry, guys. I have to run.” Grumbles of disappointment were made, but the admirers were satisfied enough to a
llow him some space without further complaint.

  With expert maneuverability, he hooked a protective arm around Brie’s waist and felt her weight sag against him until they reached the sidewalk. The cool air washed over their damp faces and with the reprieve from the crowd Brie pulled away, leaving a void where she’d been.

  He kept his distance while she braced the brick wall for support.

  “I’m sorry, Brie. Truly.” Full of remorse, he hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his jacket. He’d never meant to cause her any kind of discomfort. If anything, he wanted to help her, but she was a strong woman and he knew without asking she wouldn’t want or accept his help.

  She shook her head as she continued to take deep breaths. “It’s fine. Not your fault.” Her face was still pale and her eyes too bright, but he stayed in place.

  “How about some tea? I’m sure there’s somewhere we can go. Or, I can—”

  “No, no. I’m okay now.” She shook her head and straightened, but kept her hand fixed on the wall. “I just need to go home.”

  “I’ll walk you.”

  Her eyes widened, “You don’t need to—”

  “I said,” his voice loud enough to prove he wouldn’t take no for an answer, “I’ll walk you.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Brie wanted to argue further, to convince him she didn’t need him to walk her home, but the truth was she was still a little unsteady. Between the stifling heat and crowd of bodies the room had closed in on her. The darkness had crept in at the corners of her vision and threatened to pull her under, but Bailey had been there, his presence like a light in a dark sea. Another surprise from a man she’d been quick to judge.

  They walked in silence the first few blocks, but she didn’t miss the way his eyes cut in her direction every so often.

  “I’m fine.” She touched his arm and they stopped. “You can relax now.”