The painter

I glanced at him and then hesitated. “And your brother?”
I looked at him eagerly, waiting for his answer. He stared, unseeing, at the walls for a second before he bared his teeth. “What about him?”
"Why are you angry with him?"
His voice was low and rough. "What is this? An interview?"
"What happened?" My question escaped in a whisper.
He stared at me morosely. "Can't you take the hint?" he asked curtly, his tone uninviting. "I don't want to fucking talk about it."
"Talking helps..."
Roman's face went hard and flat. He just stared at me, his eyes into slits and angry. His lips pulled back from his teeth. It was an expression that made him unrecognizable. Animalistic. He reminded me of a growling, territorial lion. He took a bottle of whiskey and drank from it. When that didn't seem to help, he threw it against the wall, it shattered into a thousand pieces.
The force of the crash startled me and terrified me into immobility.
His lips tightened into a fierce line. He glared at his fists. "Chicken Lips?"
I somehow managed a tight smile that quickly turned into a grimace. "Yeah?"
He stared down at me with a tortured expression. "I didn't scare you, did I?"
"No," I whispered. "Not yet," I lied, voice shaky.
His face went from anger to agony in a second. One shaking hand reached out toward me, but he dropped it to his side just mere inches from touching my lips.
He grimaced. "Nuru?" he said again, his voice pleading. His eyes were tortured. "You said you don't like chicken lips, right?"
"Yes."
"Then do something or say something that will make me think of a new nickname for you..." he trailed off, as he fought himself to remain calm.
I glanced up at him, frightened. "What?"
"Tell me something I don't know." Roman's voice had a new edge to it. "... distract me... please."
"With what?" I asked.
He exhaled sharply and pressed his fingers to his temples, massaging slowly as though that would help him relax enough for the anger to vanish.
"Hmm," I said, raking my brain for something appropriate to say, but when I didn't come up with anything I flung myself at him and closed my teeth around his cheek.
"Shit," he mumbled through the pain, his eyes opening in surprise. "What the hell are you doing?" his tone was patronizing.
I couldn't answer. My mouth was occupied.
"You seriously don't believe I'll let you get away with this," he said, his voice mixed with pain. "I'll render you unconscious. Woman or not."
I didn't answer.
"The fuck?" He hissed. "It stings. Bad."
I pressed harder and he sighed, "Ok, you asked for it."
I broke through his skin and tasted blood, my stomach churned and my head began to swim. I didn't stop even then. The ringing behind my ears intensified.
He said every curse word he knew, bellowing in pain before pinching my cheeks hard, pulling each one in the direction of my ears.
"Damn, you look like The Joker," he said. A smile on his face. "You ever watch Batman?"
He pinched harder and I let go.
He studied me for a second. "You're a strange girl, anyone ever tell you that?" he asked. "What was that for?"
"That's what you wanted, right? For me to distract you?"
He shoved a rough hand through his hair and opened his eyes, finally, the anger vanished completely and when he looked at me, he was curious. "So strange," he mumbled to himself.
I shrugged.
"Jesus! You could've... kissed me or... something," he teased, shaking his head. " That's what girls are supposed to do, kiss instead of kill."
I rolled my eyes. "It worked, didn't it?"
"I guess so."
We sat in silence, neither of us willing to break it first. I sighed, giving up and said, "Are you okay?"
"Careful now, if you keep this up you just might fall for me."
As if that wasn't already happening. I waited.
"I found him in bed with my girlfriend, ex girlfriend now. I thought it was an unspoken code or something... but not me, right?" He squeezed his eyes shut. "I thought maybe our relationship would have some level of meaning for him. Was I expecting too much, Nuru?"
He suddenly looked so vulnerable. I shook my head.
"I'm angry. I'm so fucking disappointed. Hurt, betrayal, disgust such empty words for the emotions churning through me."
"Hmm, that would explain his bruises then."
"Yeah."
"When was this?"
"Oh no," he whispered. "Anton should take you back to Bull, Geez."
I rolled my eyes. "So?"
"Two and a half months ago."
If almost three months later, Isaac still had bruises, it made me wonder what he must've looked like the day after the beating. I gulped. Roman was dangerous. But why didn't I fear him? Why did I feel safe when I was with him instead.
“Doesn’t it bother you?” I asked. “Living in the same house as him?”
"I don't live here. I just came to get a few things," he said. "We don't choose our family right?"
I nodded, speechless, and hoped he didn't see the relief that washed over me. Ruth and I living in the same house? That didn't sound good. He excused himself and left me still looking through his collection. When he came back, he had a black duffle bag in hand and a group of his helpers had a brown cardboard big enough to fit Bill.
"Take it to the car," Roman instructed the men.
He watched me study the painting.
"You can have it," he told me.
I looked at it closer. That's when I noticed a name almost everyone around the world was familiar with; R.J Reeves."
I blinked in disbelief and scanned the next painting and then the next and the next. They all had the same signage.
"You're Roman!"