CHAPTER 8 - Chip on his shoulder
Kit got up early the next morning and drove to Craig’s Cliff overlooking Brandon Bay. It was a little overcast and threatening to rain, but she was eager to start on her “project” and had bought the largest professional canvas Williams Art Store carried; four foot by four foot. In retrospect she was probably taking on more than she should, but Jasmine had gotten her so revved up yesterday, she’d all but bought out the store’s supply of brushes and paint. No turning back now!
Standing on the cliff, Kit wondered if it wouldn’t be a better idea to jump off than set up her easel. Doubts started niggling at her and she wished that Jasmine were around to give her another pep talk.
Looking out at the ocean, she willed inspiration to jump out and bite her. The sea was a beautiful shade of blue in the morning, and with that thought, Kit looked again at her palette, her brushes and her canvas.
Nothing quite so scary as a blank canvas, she thought with a grimace. Shrugging, Kit picked up the tube of marine blue paint and squeezed a good sized glob of it on her palette. Well, the sea was blue, so it was as good a place to start as any.
Within minutes, the image easily shifted from her mind, to her hand and onto the canvas. Kit swept the brush over the canvas in great flourishing waves of colour. As if by magic, the swirls of the ocean began to appear. She then started layering deeper blues and blacks to mimic the depths of the sea. Finally she added the white of the surf’s foam as it crashed to the shore.
Kit painted until the light began to fade and she could no longer decipher the colours she was mixing on her palette. Looking at what she’d done so far, she nodded her head. Not bad. She’d come back tomorrow and do some more.
Laying the canvas in the back of her Ford hatchback, she felt content. It had been a good day; the first decent one in a long time. It felt good to concentrate on doing something she liked. What was it Jasmine said? “Do what makes you happy and everything else will fall into place.”
Smiling to herself as she drove down the highway, she sang along with the Carpenters’ “Rainy days and Mondays”, thinking how she usually identified so strongly with the words, but for the moment it was just a song.
As she pulled into the driveway, she noticed that her mother had a visitor. A silver BMW was parked out front. Her mother knew someone who drove a beamer? Now that was news. She stroked her hand over the hood as she passed it on the way to the front door. Very nice.
Hanging her lightweight jacket on a hook near the entrance, Kit could hear voices coming from the kitchen. A deep, resonant voice was laughing at something her mother had said. Did Gladys have a boyfriend? Why wouldn’t she have told her about it? Now here she was intruding on what could be an intimate situation.
She speculated on her mothers’ social life. Was she serious with this guy or was he only one of a stream of men she dated. The notion that her mother had more of a social (read sex) life than she had, didn’t sit well with her. How unfair would that be!
Looking in the hallway mirror, Kit was in no way ready to greet company. The sun had made its way out by afternoon and her face was decidedly pink. Added to that, the wind had blown her hair around until it was a mass of tangles that would require a good dose of “Bed Head” conditioner to settle down. Wearing a dirty old t-shirt with “Don’t grow up –it’s a trap” blazoned across it; all in all, she looked like something the cat dragged in. How dare her mother put her in this position? When mentioning dinner, she hadn’t said a word about a guest coming by. All she’d said was dinner was at six.
Come to think of it, the idea that her Mom had told her dinner would be on the table at six rankled her independence in no uncertain terms. Should she high-tail it out of there right now?
“Is that you Kit?” she heard Gladys call from the kitchen.
Who else would it be? Oh yeah, maybe some other guy she knew nothing about. “Yes. It’s me” she dutifully yelled back.
As she entered the kitchen, she did a double take. The guy at the kitchen table was about her age, and not at all bad looking. Who would have thunk it? Her Mom was getting it on with a younger man.
“Look who’s come to visit?” Gladys said with a smile.
“Hi Kit” the guy said, standing up and facing her more fully.
“Hi” she replied a little unsurely. Oh my God. “Barnaby?” Kit asked with a stunned expression.
“Kit?” he said back at her mockingly. “Am I that unrecognisable?”
“What are you doing here?” Kit stammered. Ghosts from her past were popping up all over the place, and she was sick and tired of getting the bejesus scared out of her. First Jeremy, now Barnaby. Who next? Mrs. Blake wearing her prom dress?
“I’m in town for my father’s birthday this weekend. Thought I’d stop by and see my favourite Brandon Bay lady” he said putting his arm around Gladys and giving her a squeeze. “I never expected to see you here.”
“Likewise” Kit replied, staring at the arm that was still around her mother. For some reason that bothered her immensely and her chest tightened in response.
“Well,” her mother said, “I’ve made some tea, so help yourselves. I’m sure you two have some catching up to do. I’ll leave you alone for a while.”
“No, wait” they both said in unison. Looking at one another, they both chuckled. Sitting down at the kitchen table, they nervously glanced at each other.
“You look different” Kit stated, not knowing what else to say, so going for the obvious.
“So do you.”
“Well, we’re not sixteen anymore, I guess.”
“Thank God for that.” Barnaby said with a sigh.
“I’ll second, third and fourth that.” Kit concurred with a smile. “So Barn, what have you been doing since school?” The BMW outside told her that he was not doing too badly at whatever he did. He didn’t wear glasses anymore and looked incredibly buff. As Jasmine would say “He was a hottie”; a hottie with a beamer, no less. Who knew Barnaby had it in him?
“This and that. I got into Software development right out of school. Now I work in Silicon Valley” he said reticently.
“You always were good with computers.”
“Geek to the end, huh?” he said sarcastically.
“No” Kit said softly. “I mean, I know other people thought you were, but I never thought of you as a geek. You were my friend.”
“Yeah. I know” he said blowing out a breath. “Friend to many, boyfriend to none. Well, I’m happy to say that I now beat women off with a stick.”
Kit crossed her arms and surveyed him with interest. “Good for you” she replied, a little disappointed for some reason that Barnaby wasn’t holding some huge, Survivor sized torch for her.
“Yeah” he stated in a low voice, staring into Kit’s eyes with a meaningful look. “It’s amazing what a couple of hours a day at the gym, a healthy bank account, and a BMW can do” Smirking, he added, “So, what have you been up to?”
“Oh not much” she replied, deciding to forgo her depressing tale of woe; no boyfriend; lost job; hopeless future. “I paint now” she remarked cheerfully, happily mentioning the one current bright spot in her life. “That’s why I’m such a mess at the moment; I’ve been up at Craig’s Cliff painting all day. I must look a sight!”
“Yeah. You do” Barnaby said sternly. “You’re an absolute mess”
“That’s not a very nice thing to tell a girl” Kit huffed.
“But it’s the truth” he shot back roughly.
Kit pouted jokingly. “Perhaps it is; but couldn’t you lie just a little for my benefit”
Barnaby leaned forward with a dangerous light in his eyes that she had never seen before. “Listen. My membership to the “Kit Davidson Fan Club” expired a long, long time ago. And I’m not looking for a renewal. I no longer need or want to feed your precious ego in the hopes that maybe you’ll see me …, differently. I won’t do it Kit. Like you said…, we’re not sixteen anymore.”
Kit shot him a look of hurt mixed with a smidgen of admiration. “Wow! That’s quite a speech. A little uncalled for, but quite enlightening; you’ve never sounded so … forceful. Just who are you and what did you do with the real Barnaby Calder?”
Barnaby shook his head and chuckled, lightening the mood. “I guess I’ve changed quite a bit, and not just by having Lasik so I don’t need glasses anymore.” Fixing her with a solemn stare, he added, “You see, I discovered in high school that nice guys finish last, and I never intend to make that mistake again.”
“No” she replied with a dubious grin, “I don’t believe that you’re not a nice guy anymore. You may talk tough Barnaby Calder, but you’re still that big old marshmallow I’ve known since sixth grade.” Kit playfully went to punch him in the arm, like she had all those years ago, but he caught her blow before it hit.
Kit’s breath rapidly sped up as she looked at his hand gripping her wrist. Oh my, he was strong!
“Don’t be so sure about that Kit. You may still want to think of me as good old Barnaby, but I have changed. I no longer stand back and hope for things to come my way –I take what I want now.” His eyes scanned her lips for a moment or two and then returned to glare back at her.
Wide-eyed, Kit gazed into his eyes. “Do you?” This new, supposedly improved version of Barnaby was a little unsettling. Licking her lips, she awaited his answer.
Barnaby let her wrist go. “Yes, I do. But only things I want. I don’t go chasing anything or anyone that I don’t really want.”
Kit looked a little taken aback. So he was well and truly over her. Well, thank goodness for that. Maybe now they could go back to being friends. Leave what happened at the Prom in the past and chalk it up to hormone overload on his part. But she couldn’t help but ask, albeit a little shakily, “So the past is all water under the bridge to you now?”
“Blew up that bridge a long time ago” he said with a sarcastic snort.
“Good to know” Kit replied with narrowed eyes.
She wondered if he was really a changed man, or just putting it on for her benefit. If the past was all such a distant and forgotten memory, how come Barnaby seemed to be treating her with such unveiled antagonism? Was the bravado he showed real? The zip she’d felt when he’d touched her was definitely real. Kit hadn’t felt such awareness since Jeffrey Jones and that blasted elevator.
What the hell was going on here? The boy of her dreams, Jeremy Atwell was hitting on her, and the boy, who swore to love her till the day he died, now claimed to feel nothing; she was water under the bridge to him.
The world was going topsy-turvy and Kit was starting to wonder if Gladys was actually the only sane person in this town, and everyone else was bonkers. Whoa, scary thought!
Deciding to change the subject Kit asked, “So you’re here for your dad’s birthday, how is he?”
“Why don’t you come on Saturday night and find out? My folks love you like crazy, always have.”
Unlike you, Kit thought with undeserved scorn. Perhaps staying away from Barnaby and his new found sexiness was what Kit should do, but instead she opted to GAG and take him up on the offer. So far, going against her gut was working out pretty well. And when you’re on a good thing, stick with it. “I’d love to come” she replied with a smile.
“Good. I’ll let them know.” he said letting out a long held breath. Kit wondered if he’d been holding it, awaiting her response. No. Barnaby was rich, successful and now, surprise, surprise; a hottie. He had ventured out of her league, and therefore so not Kit’s type.
Gladys popped her head around the kitchen door. “You two still getting along?”
“Yes mother, we are” Kit answered with a roll of the eyes. She’d be offering the two of them cookies and milk soon.
“Friends again?” Gladys added.
Kit and Barnaby looked at each other warily.
Strange, Kit thought, she used to know exactly what he was thinking; now she was totally baffled.
“I think we’re good” Kit responded hesitantly.
Barnaby gave her a crooked smile. “I better go. My Mom said dinner would be on the table at six-thirty”
Kit grinned at him. “I guess some things never change.”
At that, Barnaby laughed and bid the Davidson’s farewell.
His gaze caught Kit’s for a moment at the door and Kit felt a little thrill run over her. Barnaby Calder was unsettling her equilibrium in a way that was as surprising as it was unwelcome. Crazy! Certifiably crazy!
CHAPTER 9 - A Picture Paints a Thousand Words
The next two days passed without incident. Kit returned to Craig’s Cliff and busily worked on her first painting. The birthday party for Jonas Calder loomed in her mind, but she pushed it away with the strength of a female Eastern European discus thrower.
By two o’clock on Friday afternoon, she decided that there was no way she could tweak or add to her creation. It was done! Pretty good, she thought without ego. No, not bad at all. Kit wasn’t quite sure what category of art it fell under, abstract or some form of expressionism or impressionism. So she elected to call it GAGism for now; figuring that she would never had attempted to paint unless she’d gone against her instincts. She only hoped that it wouldn’t actually make anyone gag for real.
She started packing up her paints but stopped midway. Oops. One thing was missing from her painting –a signature.
Kit resolutely decided that she wouldn’t use her real name. That was just asking for trouble. She could almost hear the mockery and teasing that would come with signing “Kit Davidson”. She couldn’t run the risk of that happening.
No. She had a better idea. With a smile she got out her double-zero brush, and loaded it with a contrasting white paint. With care, she wrote the initials “TPG’ in the bottom right-hand corner. Grinning at her handiwork, Kit couldn’t think of a more appropriate tag for her creation.
To those who knew her past, it had just the right note of self-mockery and humour to say “yeah, I painted a picture, and you can ridicule all you like, but I don’t care”. But it also anonymously protected her from the criticism that inevitably fell on artists who had the gall to show their work. Not that she planned to show it to anyone but Jasmine for the time being, but who knew? Her future could very well be as “Kit Davidson, Artist”; alias TPG of course.
Loading up her car, Kit couldn’t wait to show Jasmine what she’d been doing the last two days. She couldn’t remember being this excited, ever!
When she burst through the door of the shop, painting in hand, Jasmine was bent over the front counter display case, busily arranging her jewellery. She glanced up for a moment to greet her friend; “Hello stranger.”
“Hi” Kit said nervously, holding the painting so that Jasmine couldn’t see; not an easy task with something so huge. “I’m finished. Wanna see it?”
Jasmine shut the display case, stood erect, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m ready. Let me have it” she said with great gravity.
Kit turned the painting around and watched as Jasmine opened her eyes and looked it over thoroughly. “Oh Kit” she said with sniff.
Kit’s face fell. “No good?” she asked with a frown.
“It’s not good, it’s great.” Jasmine squealed, tears in her eyes, but clapping her hands nonetheless. “I love it. I’m so proud of you!”
“You really like it that much?” Kit asked, genuinely hoping that Jasmine was not just saying what she wanted to hear.
“Can I hang it in my shop?”
“No!” Kit said emphatically. “I’m not ready for anyone else to see it, not just yet.”
“GAG Kit, GAG, GAG, GAG.” Jasmine smiled.
“No” she said shaking her head and sorry she’d told Jasmine all about the GAG theory. “GAG, or not; I can’t do it.”
Jasmine put her hands on her hips, but looked neither threatening nor frightening. “Then let me do it. Give me the painting and I’ll do with it what I may.”
“Which means?”
“Hang it on my wall, look at it, and smile every time I think of you” Jasmine said with a pout.
“Oh puh-lease” Kit rolled her eyes.
Jasmine looked at the painting again, literally oohing and aahing over it in awe. “TPG” she said, completely befuddled. “Why TPG?”
“Why not?” Kit answered with a shrug.
“Why not indeed” Jasmine replied, also shrugging.
Kit thought about telling Jasmine about her alter ego, TPG, but decided it could wait for another time and place; and a black Russian in hand.
Watching as her friend carefully ran her hand over the canvas’ image, Kit finally relented. “If I let you hang it; you promise you won’t tell anyone that I did it?” she asked.
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