Paint The Rainbow

by John Harris

  “Your sister’s giving you the works, huh,” said a man in Ryan’s ear. Chuckling, he continued, “I remember when my sister wanted to know everything about me all those years ago.” The man’s voice was pleasant, and sounded like someone who spoke voiceovers at the start of a movie—Morgan Freeman or maybe Sean Bean.

  Ryan turned around. To his surprise, the man who had spoken into his ear was surely over sixty. The man smiled at him. He had aged incredibly well and carried it with a dignity that very few could muster. His success in life radiated from his entire frame. “Yes, people my age also like to go out,” he said, registering the younger man’s surprise.

  Ryan laughed. “I’m sure. I was just startled that’s all. You look incredible.”

  “Thank you.” The stranger held out his hand, “Liam.”

  “Ryan,” he said, taking the other man’s hand and shaking it.

  “You only get to look like this” - Liam waved his hands over his body theatrically - “if you are honest with yourself and do not deny what nature intended for you.”

  Ryan frowned. His words were so true, yet at the same time confusing. Liam intrigued Ryan and the younger man was about to offer him a drink when Amber turned up with a round of shots for the three of them. Curious as she was by nature, she had been watching the exchange the entire time. Even though she did not approve of her brother falling victim to some old dude in search of young meat, she wanted to give him a chance to discover himself. Apart from Juan, she was the only other one who harbored some suspicion that Ryan was gay.

  “Oh, I don’t know about this,” Liam said, studying the colorful drink in a shot glass.

  “Come on. It’s only a Redheaded Slut,” Amber had trouble containing her mirth.

  “A what?” Ryan held the reddish liquid to his nose.

  Amber repeated the name and lifted her glass. “It’s made of Jägermeister, peach schnapps and cranberry juice. Cheers.” She downed her shot.

  Ryan followed suit, and Liam spent a while longer looking at the beverage with obvious distaste.

  “That ain’t going to drink itself, uh—”

  “Liam.” He smiled at Amber, “Thank you for this… I think.” He emptied his glass to congratulations all around.

  “Yeah, way to go, Liam,” Ryan said, patting him on the back.

  A waiter approached with a round of beer chasers and more shots. As usual, Amber had already created rapport with the man and was able to coax a table out of him in a quieter section of the patio. She gave him a kiss and tipped him generously. The guy was stoked—Amber had that effect on people.

  “So, you’ve got the hots for my brother, huh Liam?”

  “Amber, come on,” Ryan said, slapping his sister on the back affectionately. He started blushing.

  “Oh, no,” said Liam, lifting his hands and chuckling. “I’m too old for that, and besides, I’m in a very happy relationship with my business partner. He hates noise. I just love the action now and again. You can’t spend every night listening to pianos or opera, right. Once in a while, I need a good dose of Diana Ross’s ‘I’m coming out.’”

  Everybody laughed.

  Liam moved closer. “Or Jay-Z. I love his music sometimes, too.” Amber and Ryan exchanged surprised looks. “There’s something raw about it, but my Collin despises new age music. According to him, the last true artist died with Michael Jackson.”

  “He has a point there,” Ryan said.

  “Bullshit,” Amber took a sip of beer. “What about Madonna, James Blunt, or Rihanna, just to name a few. You’re acting like the future of music is dead.”

  “Okay, okay, sis. Lighten up already.” Ryan turned to Liam, “She gets very emotional about this kind of thing. She works for a publishing company that specializes in scripts for movies and TV shows. She absolutely hates it when people come along and say that everything was so much better twenty years ago.”

  Liam nodded, “I agree with your sister. Sure, there were a lot of great acts and movies in my time, but I find we keep developing. Of course, some movies rely too much on technology, but that, in a way, is art as well.”

  “Yeah, but in some cases, you can see that the entire backdrop was created by a computer.” Ryan nipped on his beer. He groaned when Amber’s new ally, the waiter, turned up with another round of Redheaded Sluts. “You really love these, don’t you?” He took a shot glass from the good-looking waiter with biceps to die for. Ryan spent a moment studying the muscles as they moved.

  Amber nudged him, “Like what you see, Ry?”

  Ryan looked up with a jolt, “What?”

  “Oh, just wanted to know whether you liked the place?”

  Liam chuckled.

  “You’re making fun of me again.” He lifted his shot. “To family, and the best sister a guy could wish for.” Ryan winked at Amber who melted with love for her brother.

  “I’ll drink to that,” Liam said. A naughty expression played on his features. “Also, to the truth… and living it.”

  “Here, here. Very good toast, Liam.” Amber beamed at her brother as she lifted the rim of her glass to her lips and downed the beverage in one gulp. Once she set the stout glass on the table, she took a sip of beer to rid her mouth of the sticky taste of the shot. She studied her brother again. “So, you’re a believer that stuff was better in the past?”

  “Not everything, but a lot of things.”

  “If you believe that then you’re doomed to fail, Ryan. You might as well stay working in your women’s clothes boutique on Rodeo Drive.”

  A flicker of annoyance skirted Ryan’s forehead.

  “What I’m saying is that you believe all the good stuff has already been done. Then why do you bother to continue painting if everything good has already been painted?”

  “You’re an artist?” Liam asked.

  Ryan opened his mouth, but Amber intercepted. “Yeah, and a damn good one, if you ask me.”

  Liam’s face lit up. He suddenly appeared twenty years younger. The mention of art had obviously hit a soft spot with him. “I am a gallerist… I have a gallery in Beverly Hills. Wow, this is crazy.” He was overwhelmed.

  “So, what kind of artwork do you sell, Liam?”

  “Oh, everything really. The gallery mainly deals with modern art, which you’ve most likely already discerned. My love and business partner handles the old masters and the likes.”

  “Cool, so you have the best of both worlds—the new and the old?” Amber nodded, truly impressed. It was not every day that you met some big shot art guy from Beverly Hills when you were out.

  It was too much for Ryan to deal with. First Mason Whitelock, and the strange feelings the encounter had awoken in him, and now this—all in the same day. He couldn’t help but think that fate was playing tricks on him. He half expected all of his good fortune to vanish the very next second.

  “Ryan, what kind of paintings do you do?” Liam asked.

  Ryan looked at the older man closely. He registered genuine interest in the other man’s gaze. Ryan had never been to college to study art, he had only a rudimentary knowledge of the great artists of his age, and when he worked, he produced things on a whim.

  “All kinds,” he said at last, taking a very large slug of beer.

  Liam chuckled. “Ah, you’re one of those guys.” He pulled out a dainty leather holder of some sort, removed a white card, and handed it to Ryan. “Here is my business card.”

  “Thanks, Liam.”

  Seeing the confused expression play on the younger mans’ face, Liam said, “I would like to come around to your place to see your work.” Liam had a very serious expression etched onto his features. “I don’t usually do this, but I have a feeling with you, Ryan.”

  Ryan swallowed deeply. To his good fortune, Amber took over again. “How about tomorrow? You could have dinner with us, and after that, Ryan could show you his work.”

  Liam thought for a heartbeat. “Yes, that sounds good. I have something tomorrow evening, but I can reschedule�
��”

  “Oh, we don’t want to put pressure on you, Liam,” Ryan said quickly. He kicked his sister under the table for being so pushy. She was so much like their Dad, sometimes.

  Liam lifted his hands and laughed. “No pressure, Ryan. I’ll be there under one condition.”

  “Name it,” Amber said, beating her brother to it.

  “I want to see Ryan’s work before dinner.”

  Ryan’s eyes opened a fraction more. He was suddenly quite nervous. What if his work was nothing at all? He only had two fans—Amber and his mom. His dad thought his colorful paintings were rubbish and a total waste of time and space. Ryan took up most of the garage with his easel, colors and canvases. “Of course, Liam. It would be my pleasure.”

  Liam emptied his beer. “That’s my cue then.” He looked at his watch. “Yes, time for me to get back and see what my better half is getting up to. He always gets so worried when I go out. He thinks some great big hunk’s going to come along and take me away from him.”

  Everyone laughed. After he secured the address, Liam said his farewells and forced his way through the ever-growing throng of people with an understated elegance. Amber turned to her younger brother and grinned like a chipmunk with a mouth full of nuts.

  “Oh no, what’s coming now?” Ryan laughed, like he always did when his sister made that face.

  “Now, don’t tell me that today was not the greatest gay awakening a guy could have, huh?” She downed her beer and waved her hand at her new waiter friend for two more.

  “Gay awakening? Do tell,” said Juan sitting down with a huge grin on his face.

  “You look happy, Juan,” Ryan said, seeing his only chance to avoid a grilling from his sister. Juan launched into a monologue that would most probably last for the rest of the evening. Seeing the steely look in his sister’s eyes, Ryan knew it was all for nothing. He would have to tell her about his more intimate feelings and thoughts at some point. He just didn’t feel like doing it right now.

  Ryan fumbled with the keys to the garage, cursing inwardly. It was so like his dad not to invest in one of those automatic door-opening contraptions with a remote. John always claimed that it would be a waste of good money.

  “Do you need a hand, Ryan?” Liam asked.

  He had just arrived at about six p.m., and Ryan was nervous as hell. His mom was inside preparing a tomato salad, corn bread, and baked potatoes. His dad was at his habitual post behind the grill with a beer in hand. As it was a Sunday, Amber was already home, mellowing her father out in preparation for his first real encounter with a homosexual man. Of course, he had been around them at the mall or maybe a restaurant, but none of that ilk had ever set foot in his home.

  Ryan could smell the fresh bread from the kitchen. It reminded him of his childhood, growing up here. As usual, the Mitchell kitchen sort of closed up during the summer months because Ryan’s dad insisted on preparing everything on the barbeque. Only the bare necessities were allowed to be prepared indoors. Even when Ryan had once claimed that eating grilled food every day was bad for your health, all he got was some snide remark from his father.

  Ryan felt the perspiration bead on his forehead as the metal chinked in the keyhole. “Ah, got it. This lock is probably the worst in the world.” As the summer progressed from the final days of spring, it was starting to stay rather warm in the evenings. Any exertion would invite rivers of sweat.

  Liam laughed lightly. “I can’t wait to see your work, Ryan. Also, the fantastic smell of fresh bread coming from your mom’s kitchen is making my mouth water.”

  “You should come here in the autumn and winter when she’s allowed to cook indoors. The house is full of mouthwatering aromas daily.” Ryan’s heart skipped a beat when he thought of how much he loved his mom.

  “That sounds wonderful. Is it one of the reasons you don’t move out, Ryan?”

  Before he pulled the door open, Ryan turned around. “Sure, I love it here, but that’s not the reason.” He spent a few moments thinking. “Money is one of the main motivations for staying here and also this…”

  He pulled the latches on the wooden doors to the garage, revealing what was hidden behind them.

  “My atelier, Liam.” Ryan chuckled nervously. “Where could I find something like this on my meager monthly income?”

  As if he was a denizen of another world, Liam brushed past Ryan, entering the smallish garage. Most of the paintings were covered with cloths because Ryan hadn’t been working for quite some time. Something had kept him away from his greatest passion, an impression that had been eating away at him for days and nights on end had robbed him of his love for art and the creation of it. It was the first time in Ryan’s life that he had ever felt so disconnected with who he was.

  “May I?” asked Liam, pointing to a white sheet.

  Ryan nodded. He gulped when the older man touched the fabric, then nearly jumped when he pulled on it with a violent yank of his hands. He heard Liam take a deep breath followed by an even longer exhalation.

  “May I?” Liam asked yet again when he stood in front of the next covered artwork.

  Ryan nodded and said that he needn’t ask each time. This process was repeated around the entire space of the garage. Liam didn’t utter a word. He was consumed with the color, the brushstrokes, and the story he could take out from each canvas. There were many inhalations and exhalations. Occasionally a grunt would add a special emphasis, but other than that, Ryan had no clue what the renowned art connoisseur thought of his work.

  “Well, well, well.” Liam brushed past Ryan and walked back to the first canvas. He swallowed deeply and finally he nodded. Gradually, Liam turned his head until his gaze rested on Ryan’s. “You are…” He marched off and made another tour of all the paintings.

  By now, Ryan was mesmerized. Liam had intrigued him from the moment he had met him, but this was like something out of the movies—the good-looking older man or mentor helping the younger man find his way. It was so cliché and yet so unique, as Liam floated about in his meticulous clothing.

  “You have genius in you, Ryan. I want them all, and your masterpiece, for my next exhibition in Bel Air,” said Liam with authority in his voice. He placed his hands on his hips. Gone was the sweet-natured and reticent man. The domineering and focused gentleman who knew what he wanted replaced it.

  “My masterpiece?” Ryan frowned. “I haven’t been hiding anything from you, if that is what you mean?” Ryan pointed at the various paintings in the garage. “These are all I have.”

  Liam chuckled. It was short-lived. In moments, his earnestness repopulated his features. “That’s because you haven’t painted it yet.” He walked up to the younger man and placed his hands on his shoulders. “I still need that from you.”

  Ryan gulped. “When is this exhibition of yours?”

  “In two weeks,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “Two weeks,” Ryan had trouble breathing. “That’s impossible.”

  Liam pleated his brow. “Now, that’s the domain of the young nowadays. They always give up before they’ve even tried. Of course, it’s possible if you put your mind to it.”

  “What, who gives up?” asked Amber from the entrance of the garage.

  Both Ryan and Liam looked at Amber. The older man appeared serious. Ryan, on the other hand, looked nervous as hell. “Liam wants me to paint a finished work in under two weeks,” he said.

  “I’m sure if you put some effort into it you’ll manage.” She began to walk around the paintings. When she was done, she turned to look at Liam. “So, what’s wrong with the stuff in here?”

  “None of it truly represents what Ryan feels.” Liam appeared thoughtful. “Sure, they’re all very good—unique—but Ryan needs to dig deeper into who he is.”

  Amber looked at the different pieces depicting abstracts of naked women in various poses. She pleated her brow in the way she always did when lost in thought. “I see what you mean, Liam.”

  “You do?” Ryan didn’t know w
hat to make of the entire exchange between his sister and the gallerist.

  “Yeah, I do.” Amber guided Ryan to one of his paintings. “Take a closer look at this and tell me what you see.”

  Ryan squinted as if he had trouble seeing. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t know. A painting of a woman in the nude.”

  “Do you want me to get Juan over here to explain it to you?”

  “Who the hell is Juan?” John asked at the garage door.

  “Dad,” Amber and Ryan said in unison.

  “I do live here. Why are you acting all surprised?” John moved into his garage. He homed in on Liam. He didn’t hold out his hand. “So, you’re the guy who promises to make my son famous with all of this stuff.”

  Liam chuckled, “I don’t know about that, but I will sure try. Liam Stone. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “John Mitchell.”

  The two men shook hands briefly. Once they were done, Liam redirected his focus onto the myriad of paintings again. John, on the other hand, couldn’t take his eyes off the stranger. He studied his every move.

  “Your son is very talented,” Liam said.

  “Is he, now?” The words coming out of John’s mouth were a series of grunts. He was obviously not impressed with the cultured and well-mannered gentleman standing in his garage. In addition, he had no care or interest in art.

  “Yes, take a look at this one.” Liam walked up to John and placed a manicured hand on his shoulder. Reluctantly, John let himself be guided to one of the paintings. “Take this one, for example. Your son uses color beautifully to emphasize the woman’s physique.”

  John shrugged and gave Ryan an apathetic glare. “I just see too much color. Anyhow, dinner’s ready. Let’s go out to the yard.” John turned and made to walk out of the garage when his daughter stopped him.

  “Dad, what Ryan’s done here is amazing. Don’t you see the effort that goes into only one of these?” She pointed to the walls and stands with the paintings on them.