by Max Hudson
“Don’t worry so much. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“I’ve got Triple-A.”
“See, that’s the stuff right there.”
“They’ll probably take hours.”
“Why are you so negative?” Annie asked.
“I don’t know.” Devlin smiled. “I am being kind of a downer, aren’t I?”
“Kind of.” She shrugged. “Call Triple A. See how long they’re going to take.”
“Sure.” He looked up and down the road. “At least there’s a diner here.” He dialed the number and waited his turn while Annie got her wallet and his gear from the truck, then made sure to get the keys out.
He only supervised, occasionally mentioning something to hide or pull out, like his expensive cellphone charger. She took care of it all while he arranged for a tow truck driver to come and help him out. He was told that may take some time. He left his number and told them that they would be at a nearby diner in case they showed up while they weren’t out there.
And off they left to wait. He hadn’t been to this diner before. This wasn’t a part of town he went to very often unless he was doing a quick run around to check on the night before trash day so that he could find himself some more product to work with.
But it looked like a nice enough place. A little old with pictures of regular customers on the walls that seemed to run over all the decades of its existence. It made him smile. Regular customers were so important to a business, and it usually meant that it had a quality that most places wouldn’t have.
He looked at the old menu, comfortably worn out from ages of having the same chef and he enjoyed it. Tex Mex was good enough for him and he ordered himself a smothered and covered burrito and waited patiently while he sipped a soda with Annie. “Want to make a bet on how long this is going to take?”
“If it takes too long, I’ll have to Uber home. I got work in the morning.”
“Real job comes first. Don’t worry about it.”
“Sorry.”
“Nobody saw this coming,” Devlin admitted to her. “I should have been more prepared.”
“Nobody expects a flat tire.”
He groaned. “I know.”
“Stop being so pouty about it. You’re going to be fine.”
“I feel like this is going to be expensive.”
“Do you have the money?”
“Yeah. I do.” He nodded. “I’m doing all right and not starving or anything. Just trying to get to the point where I can have permanent help instead of bugging friends to come and support me.”
“You’ll get there. Just bust ass. How many pieces can you do in a day?”
“Most pieces I can do in a couple of hours, which lets me do three or four in a day.”
“See, you’re already getting there. And how well do they sell?”
“At the market, once a week, I can usually sell like ten to fifteen pieces.”
“You still getting commissions?”
“A few.” He shrugged. “But most of the stuff people buy is when they see me there.”
“Is there a way you can get more regular commissions?”
“Maybe.”
“What about like, Etsy?”
“My pieces are too big to try to ship well.”
She thought about that. “Maybe you can make some smaller pieces. Like music boxes or crates or small stuff that you can ship easily.”
“That could work, I guess.”
“It could more than work. The internet is doing wonders for artists all around the world.” Annie smirked. “A lot of little guys are able to make a living at it now.”
That made him perk up a bit. “Yeah. And they wouldn’t take nearly as long to do.”
“How long?”
“Like less than an hour for each piece.” Devlin shrugged. “For the small ones at least.”
“That could work.”
Devlin grinned. “I should hire you as my assistant.”
“You couldn’t pay me enough.” She laughed.
“That’s a sad truth.” Devlin was smiling and laughing though. There was a reason Annie was one of his best friends.
“That’s the way it is.” She was smirking as she tried to play it cool.
He thought about the stuff that he had to do. “I do have one commission at the moment. It’s not much, but I gotta finish up a full dining set this week.”
“Do you have the pieces for it?”
“Yeah. I already had them.”
“Then you’re set.” Annie laughed. “And everything is gonna be fine.”
“I know. But one commission a month is gonna pay the bills.”
“How many would it take?” Annie tilted her head his direction. She was curious. “Like ten or twelve?”
He laughed loudly. “Not that many. Commissions pay pretty well and I don’t have to bargain for them. Probably two or three, plus the business I’m doing already.”
“Have you considered opening up a permanent studio?”
“Cheaper to do the farmer’s market.” He shrugged. “Having a shop of my own would be really nice and stuff, but I would have to make sure I keep enough moving through to keep it going.”
“Well, then it looks like you’re on the right path.”
“That’s what the accountant says. It just takes time to build up.” Devlin smiled a bit. “And after this, at least we’re getting to discover something new.”
“And maybe I can finish the run after this tire gets changed.”
“Maybe you can.” She shrugged as the waitress walked over to them placing two plates on the table. “This looks good.”
“Thanks, we try our best.” The server grinned. “Anything else I can get you guys?”
“Salsa?”
“Our chef makes his own, how hot on a scale of one to ten?”
Devlin thought about it for a second before Annie piped up. “I want a five.”
“I’ll take a number three.” Devlin tapped the number with his finger.
Annie nudged him from across the table. “Wuss.”
“Yeah. I know.” He laughed. “Never been one for spicy stuff.”
“We call it Midwest spicy.” The waitress explains with a smile. “Three is kind of like what you’ll find described as medium in the Midwest.”
“That sounds about right.” Devlin looked down at his burrito. It did look fantastic, which wasn’t something that he was expecting in a place like this. “Thanks. It looks good.”
“Let me know if you guys need anything else.” She waved as she headed away from the table, leaving the pair alone again.
They tried to talk again, but it was nearly impossible as they dug into the fantastic food. “Let me know if you run this area again. I’ll come along if we eat here.”
Devlin laughed. “I will.”
They were almost done when Devlin’s phone rung. Annie looked out the window as he got the information from the guy. “Tow trucks here.”
“That’s literally what I just got called about.”
“I’ll go meet them while you take care of the check.”
“Take my Triple A card.” He reached into his wallet to pass it over. She took it and headed out while Devlin took care of paying. With any luck, they would be on the road within minutes and back to scouring the roads for old furniture that people were throwing out.
Those pieces were his canvas. The base for his artwork that he shared with the world, refurbishing old pieces with new upholstery and unique paint that allowed him to do the kind of work that he loved. And he sold pieces because each one was one of a kind and nothing matched, even if he used complementary schemes.
Chapter Three
Chance couldn’t help but observe what was going on around him. It wasn’t a huge farmer’s market. Possibly because it was so hot, and he could hear Spanish flung around the place like it was the most natural thing in the world. He suddenly regretted the fact that he had ditched so many Spanish classes in school. At the time it didn
’t feel important.
He tried not to kick to much dust up as he walked in, observing the surroundings. The dusty rows of stalls seemed to be pretty much the same, one after another, but at one end he could see a group that seemed different. Artists, trying to sell their wares. He smiled. It was nice to see honest people trying to make a living by creating beauty.
A sudden pang of jealousy hit him and once again he felt like a sell-out. He had to force the feeling out of his head and start to walk around the perimeter.
There was something about this place that spoke to him like he was being called by some sort of instinct that he couldn’t explain.
Or maybe it was all the muscled men with farmer’s tans. That was probably what it actually was that called to him. Hot guys out in the heat selling tomatoes.
He wandered down the stalls, looking through stuff. He kept his hat low on his brow and wore sunglasses. It was a pretty normal look for the desert and it wasn’t likely that he would be spotted after walking there from his rental car. It was a secret that most people wouldn’t recognize celebrities in public because most people didn’t pay attention and rarely would assume you were that person even if they did think the celebrity looked familiar.
It was a trick he used to his advantage often enough. And this time would be no different. He wandered through the stalls, mostly ignoring the vegetables. He was going for the artists. It would be a nice way to refuel his soul, watching what others were doing.
He had made sure to bring some cash with him in case he wanted to buy anything, it wasn’t like that sort of thing was an issue. He just didn’t carry cash as often as most people did, relying on cards and assistants with access to his money to pay for things. This sort of thing was a rare treat, and he had to practically escape in order to be able to do this sort of thing.
He was going to enjoy this.
Chance wandered with a smile as he looked at the men and women with wares on display, from paintings to sculptures. That was until he ran into one of the most beautiful art that he had seen in a long time. A wooden chair, clearly of an older design that had been repaired expertly and painted with a swirling theme of the colors of the desert, almost a sunset in a chair.
The sign said that it was all recycled furniture repaired and decorated by the artist as a way to recycle these lost and forgotten items. He stared at it and a man walked up to him. “Do you like it?”
“Who made this stuff?”
“I did.” The man was handsome with blue eyes that could only be described as the color of the sky of early twilight, just slightly darker than the normal blue of the sky.
“Really?”
“Yeah. I pick up pieces and make them something new. My own little way of saving the world from things people would throw away.”
“All of this is recycled?”
“Most of it. And the paint is mostly stuff that people are going to throw away anyway.”
“So, it’s all recycling?”
“Yeah, it’s a little harder, but I think it makes the items more unique.” Chance could hear the artist smiling. It was so obvious in his voice. He couldn’t help but look up at him.
In an instant, Chance felt drawn into those eyes of the blond man in front of him and his breath caught. He nodded weakly. “You did an amazing job.”
“I try.”
“Where do you get the chairs and stuff?” Chance was trying to find a way to distract himself from the muscles and healthy tan of the man in front of him. “Do you buy them?”
“Sometimes I do. Usually from thrift stores and garage sales. But most of the time I actually drive around the night before garbage day and see what I can find.”
Chance nodded. “Yeah, that makes sense, I guess.”
“See anything good?” The man smiled.
“Yeah. Everything here looks amazing, but I don’t have a lot of space.”
“I’ve got some smaller stuff. Like some storage boxes and trunks. I even do suitcases on occasion.”
“Really? How does that work?” Chance didn’t know how much of the question was spurred by honest curiosity and how much was caused by not wanting to walk away from the stall and the man that was standing there.
“I paint then lacquer hard-sided suitcases and trunks. It actually helps keep them sturdy.”
“Do you fix those up too?” Chance wandered over toward the suitcases and saw a few of them laying out. They were abstract, but it was easy to see the natural beauty that the man brought out in the products that he was selling.
“Sometimes, if they only need a little work. But I’m not that handy. I mostly replace the fabric inside.”
“Like upholstery.”
“Yeah, like that. If the hinges or latches need work, I have some friends who can work on it.”
“And all of this is used?” Chance was asking the same questions again. He cursed himself for being so awkward about it.
“Yep.” Devlin looked proud of himself. “What do you think?”
“I’m probably going to buy one.” Chance grinned at him. “It’s just a matter of figuring out which one I want.”
“You could buy so many of them. How much space do you have?”
“Not much at the moment.”
“What about something on the smaller end then?”
“I’ll definitely take something. It’s just a matter of picking what I want.”
“Well, that makes me very happy.” The man laughed. “I’m Devlin by the way.”
“Chance.” He cursed himself for using his real name, but it was likely that the man at the small stall wouldn’t connect the dots to who he really was.
It appeared to have worked. Devlin didn’t mention anything about the name. “I also work on commission.”
“I don’t think I need that. What about this one?”
“I charge eighty for that one.”
Chance nodded and reached into his pocket. “I think I’ll take this one.” He points to one that’s a beautiful swirling pattern of blues and greens. It reminded him of the ocean and maybe that was the reason it spoke to him. The ocean was often a source of peace for people. Especially people who struggled to find peace in their busy lives. “I never expected to see this sort of thing here.”
“I think it’s pretty cool.” Devlin smiled at him.
“That’s obvious.” Chance laughed as he indicated the surrounding pieces. “Do you sell a lot of these?”
“The smaller pieces like that sell faster, but yeah, I get pretty good business.”
“Do you have to keep a day job?”
“Not anymore. I’m actually right on the cusp of being able to hire an assistant to handle some of the work.”
“That’s pretty great.” Chance handed over the money and picked up his purchase. “You do some amazing work.”
“You keep saying that.” Devlin laughed.
“Well, it’s the truth.” Chance smiled nervously, trying not to gawk at the man. He wondered if it was his imagination that was making Devlin’s glances last longer. Could this man feel the same attraction? There was no way to tell and it wouldn’t do any good at all. He wouldn’t be back in the area for quite a while. “How long have you been coming here?”
“Every weekend for the past five or six years.”
“That’s really good.”
“Yeah, and business has been going up.” The artist looks proud of himself. “I seemed to have stumbled on something that people like.”
“What sells the most?”
“The southwest colors seem to be the most popular. That’s not really a surprise, though.”
“Not really.”
Devlin grinned at him and opened up the suitcase to show a matching lining to the paint. “This is all reclaimed fabric too, or remnants that may be tossed away.”
“Wow, you really do try to reuse as much as you can.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’re right, why wouldn’t that be the best way to do it. Do you hand pa
int all of these, or do you use some sort of machine?”
“I do some printing, but mostly I use some specialized brushes that I built to help create the work a little faster.”
“I’d love to see it.”
“I didn’t bring them, sadly. Normally I do, so I can work while I’m out here, but I felt like taking it easy for a day.”
“How long does it take you to do something like this?”
“About an hour or so for the actual painting. More depending on how I get it and what kind of shape it’s in.”
Chance nodded. He was starting to run out of questions to ask, but he wasn’t ready to leave yet. “Do you know any good places in El Paso for dinner?”
Devlin smiled. “What kind of food you looking for?”
“Don’t really know. I guess this is the best part of the country for Mexican.”
“That it would be, but be careful, some places can get really spicy.”
“Is it that bad?” Chance smiled at Devlin, the grin on his face just wasn’t going away.
“Eh, just make sure to ask first and you should be fine.” Devlin smiled back and once again Chance got caught up in staring.
His phone beeped to call him out of his flirtatious stupor. Chance looked down at his phone and cursed.
Devlin looked concerned. “Something wrong?”
“No, I’m just running late.” It was a text from his stage manager. He was expected for a soundcheck.
“Didn’t mean to keep you.”
“You didn’t keep me at all.” Chance smiled as he rushed through the farmer’s market. He had to get moving quickly if he was going to make it before everyone called him one of the entitled stars of the stage. He hated it when people assumed that about him. He had always worked hard at what he wanted to do. Hell, he worked hard even when he hated it and wanted to go home.
Or spend time with the hot artist he met at the farmer’s market.
Chapter Four
Devlin counted the money that he had made. He had a pretty good day, looking at the nearly thousand dollars that he now had in his pockets. He quickly did some mental math. That would pay his bills after the costs of the business were taken out. It would even leave him a little extra so that he could put some aside or even go out.