In Pieces

by Alexa Land

  “It’s about time your luck turned around. Life has owed you a break for quite a while.”

  “That kind of money means I can pay Kieran back, and pay for at least a couple more quarters of school. And it means…God, it means I really don’t have to go back to prostitution. I quit a couple weeks ago, but I thought it was just temporary. I thought sooner or later, I’d have to return to that life.”

  “You really don’t.”

  “This is all because of you, Dante,” I said. “If you hadn’t thrown that gala art opening last night—”

  “Then your big break would have happened some other way. This was inevitable.”

  “I don’t know about that.”

  “So, you know,” he said, “now that you’ve gotten some public exposure, you’re going to start getting a lot of calls from agents and art dealers.”

  “Yeah, they’ve already started. I’ve been letting them go to voice mail, so I can sit down later and sort through them.”

  “Please remember that not all of those people are going to have your best interest at heart, Christopher. You’re a rising star now, and a lot of people will try to ride your coattails to fame and fortune. As I was reminded with Ian, sometimes it’s hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys. So with that in mind, I have a suggestion for you.”

  “Ok. Let’s hear it.”

  “Don’t sign with anyone. Go independent, open your own gallery. I own properties all over the city, and I can think of a couple spaces that would be perfect. You can show your own stuff as well as other artists you believe in, maybe fellow students from your school. That way, no one’s taking a cut of the earnings, or trying to take advantage of you.”

  “You know I wouldn’t let you give me a gallery space.”

  Dante grinned and said, “I knew you’d say that. So, lease it from me with an option to buy down the road. I will insist on making you a hell of a deal on your lease, however. I don’t believe in profiting from my friends.”

  He added, “You know, now that I think about it, one of those spaces has a nice apartment above it. I don’t know if you were planning to renew the lease on this place when it expires, but the unit I’m thinking of might be a good option. It’s more than big enough for two.” He smiled at me cheerfully.

  “Kieran and I are still way off from the moving in discussion.”

  “I know. I’m just looking ahead,” Dante said, as he pushed himself to his feet. “And I know this gallery idea is a lot to think about. So sleep on it, but you shouldn’t put off the decision too long. You’re white hot right now, and it’d be best to run with that momentum.”

  “I don’t have the first clue how to run a business. Why do you think I’d be able to do this?” I asked as I walked him to the door.

  “Because you know me, and I can help you out.”

  “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

  “Than assist a friend? No way. Plus, this is fun for me. I love building businesses from the ground up, and I think an art gallery would be an exciting project.”

  When we reached the door I said, “Thank you again, Dante, for everything. You really are a good friend.”

  “So are you, Christopher.”

  A couple hours later, I went to meet Hunter in the studio at school. As I cut across the Sutherlin campus, the few students that were around on the weekend greeted me by name, offering congratulations on my art show. “It was just a matter of time,” Gwen, a pretty girl with blue hair told me. “We all knew you’d go on to rule the art world.”

  I smiled at her as I felt the color rising in my cheeks. Her companion, a tall boy with a pierced lip that had been in my life painting class last quarter, slapped me on the back and said, “Way to go, C.R. Watching you succeed gives me hope, it shows that there’s life beyond art school.”

  “We should hang out some time,” Gwen added. “Go for coffee.”

  I nodded and said, “I’d like that. Well, I’m meeting my model in the studio. Talk to you later, ok?” They both called goodbye as we went off in different directions.

  I’d been so shy, so unsure of myself when I began my freshman year here, and had felt like such an outsider. I had been out of school for a few years at that point, obtaining my G.E.D. in lieu of completing four years of high school. I’d also been working as a prostitute for quite a while, and living on the streets. All of those things made me feel like I was from a different planet, when compared to the privileged upper-middle-class kids that made up most of the private art school’s population. I’d always feared that if people knew the truth about who and what I was, they’d shun me, so I’d kept quiet and kept to myself.

  Despite my being so closed off, the students at Sutherlin had always been supportive. They’d praised and respected my work, and had always been nice to me. To this day though, I still kept to myself. I knew no one here could possibly understand my struggles. But I didn’t feel like an outsider anymore, I knew I belonged here. The campus felt like a safe haven. It felt like home.

  Hunter and I had finally gotten to the painting portion of my junior project, and we were doing a nude today. When I stepped through the studio door, I found he’d beat me here and was already buck naked, reclining casually on the big, draped sofa in the center of the sunny space, firing off a text. He was really quite comfortable in his own skin.

  “Well hey there, Michelangelo,” he said with a big grin, setting his phone aside. “How’s your day going?”

  “Extraordinarily well,” I said, coming over to him and kissing his cheek.

  “Awesome. I was concerned about you and your dad.”

  As I set up my paints and easel, I gave him a run-down of all the good things that had happened today, and he said, “I’m so happy for you, Christopher. It couldn’t happen to a nicer guy.”

  I grinned at him and said, “Thanks.” The painting we were about to begin garnered my attention, and I said, “Sit up a little, bend your right knee, and turn your shoulders toward me.”

  He did exactly as I asked him to, then joked, “Aw, so we’re not doing a full frontal? You’re leaving out some of my best features.” His bent leg shielded his genitals from my view.

  I grinned at that and said, “I’m still deciding how to arrange you. This is kind of a classic pose, I wanted to see how it looked. Why don’t you shift around, find a comfortable position? I’ll tell you when we’ve got it.” He again followed my instructions.

  After a minute I got up, went around to the back of the piece of furniture, and pulled up a wooden support, laying the futon flat. I bunched the sheet up a little as Hunter slid to the center of what was now a bed and stretched out on his back, one hand resting beside his head.

  “Oh wow, that’s perfect,” I murmured as I hurried back to my easel. “Can you hold that position?”

  “Uh, yeah. I’m just laying here. Sure you don’t want me doing something more dynamic?”

  “No, that’s wonderful,” I said, looking quickly around the room. I dragged a wooden table over so it was right beside the couch and climbed up on it, checking the angle. I then set up the easel and my paints on the tabletop, climbed up again and grabbed my palette. I squirted six dollops of oil paint onto the wooden surface, quickly mixing colors together with the bristles of my brush, smearing them onto the edge of the palette.

  Hunter was so perfect, his pose so exactly right, that I began to paint hurriedly, compelled to capture the moment on canvas. I roughed in his shoulders, his torso, his head, and painted like a man possessed for a while, pausing only when I needed to mix more paint. The light was wonderful, filtering in through the huge bank of windows all along one wall, casting a golden glow over his luminous skin. “You look so beautiful,” I murmured.

  He smiled at that and whispered, “Thank you,” as if trying not to interrupt me.

  When the illumination in the room changed, I swore under my breath and muttered, “I just lost that perfect light. I don’t know what happened.”

  “The E
arth’s rotation happened. You’ve been at it for over three hours,” he said with a grin, his voice gentle.

  My eyes went wide. “Oh shit, Hunter, I’m so sorry.” I leapt off the table and held my hand out to him. “Here, let me help you up. You must be so uncomfortable.”

  He took my hand and stood up, then kept hold of it as he said, “I’m fine. And that was amazing. I’ve never seen anyone so enraptured in what they were doing. It made me wish I had something in my life that I was even half as passionate about.”

  I’d been massaging his arm and shoulder with my free hand, he had to be achy after holding still for so long. “I forgot to warn you that I zone out like that when I’m painting. I’m really sorry. You should have interrupted me.”

  He shook his head no, and then drew me into a hug. This probably should have seemed odd, since he was still completely naked. But his and my perception of “normal” was probably a bit skewed. “I really didn’t want to interrupt.” He kept holding on to me, his need for physical contact obviously really pronounced today, and I ran my hands up and down his back, massaging some of the stiffness away as he rested his head on my shoulder.

  “Are you doing ok, Hunter?”

  He nodded against my shoulder, his voice soft when he said, “I’m fine. This feels really good. Will you keep holding me for a while?”

  “Sure. As long as you want,” I told him.

  I felt him chuckle at that. “Careful with that promise. I might never let go of you.”

  I kissed the side of his head and said, “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?”

  “No, not really. I’m just being stupid.”

  “Talk to me, Hunter,” I said gently. “Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  “Just…don’t forget me, ok?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You and Kieran are right on the brink of getting really serious.” I’d told him what had happened in the parking lot of the hospital, and apparently he’d been mulling that over these last few hours. “I know you and I haven’t known each other very long, but you mean a lot to me. You’re so different than my other friends. Every single one of them would be fucking me right now instead of holding me naked in their arms. But not you. You’re the only person who’s ever seen me as more than a sex object.”

  “Your friends have sex with you?”

  “Everyone has sex with me. My friends, my agent, my publicist, my directors, strangers that pick me up in bars, shops, restaurants – everyone but you.”

  “Hunter…why do you let them?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe I know that’s all I’m good for,” he said quietly.

  “You have to know that’s not true. You’re an amazing person. You’re sweet and funny and kind, and so much more. And I say this as a friend…maybe you need to start setting some limits with people.”

  He sighed and said, “I’m making it sound like sex is all negative. It’s obviously not. I like being touched. I like the feeling of someone inside me, and the feeling of a big body on top of mine. I need that.” After a pause he said, “Anyway, I guess I’m just scared about losing you, maybe that’s making me feel insecure.”

  “I get it, I felt the same way when my friend Charlie got married. But you’re not going to lose me, Hunter. It’s not like I only have room for one person in my life. Hate to break it to you, but I’m going to be kicking your ass at Madden for years to come.”

  Hunter laughed at that and pushed me away playfully. “Jackass. Let go of me, I have to go pee.”

  I chuckled and said, “There’s a restroom through that door in the corner.”

  As he headed across the room he called, “Do you want to keep painting me this afternoon? I have an appointment, but I can push it back.”

  “No, I’ve monopolized enough of your day,” I said. Then I grinned and called, “Is the appointment with the bacon lube people?”

  “Not exactly. And I can meet you the same time tomorrow, if you want.”

  “Thanks Hunter, that’d be great.” When he emerged from the restroom I said, “Come on, get dressed and I’ll buy you some lunch, followed by one of those obscenely huge buckets of coffee you’re so fond of.”

  “I’m sure as hell not going to say no to a bucket of coffee,” he said, stepping into a skimpy pair of black briefs, followed by black jeans. “And um…my appointment this afternoon is with a police officer.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Well, it’s probably nothing. But you know that cyber stalker I mentioned a while back? He’s stepped up his game a bit, the threats have gotten kind of scary. So I’m handing it over to the police, just like you and I talked about. I don’t know if they can really do anything, but I think I’ll feel better knowing they’re looking into it.”

  “Hunter, I’m so sorry. I had no idea! And here I am, taking up all your time, and going on about what a good day I’m having—”

  He silenced me by pressing two fingers to my lips. “Don’t even. I’m glad you’re having a good day, and I’m thrilled to have this distraction. Can I take a look at the painting?”

  I kissed the fingers that were pressed to my mouth, and when he removed them I said, “Do you want to stay at my place until the police find this guy?”

  “I don’t think it’s come to that, but thanks for the offer. Besides, security is actually pretty good in my building, I feel safe there.”

  “If you change your mind, let me know.”

  “I will. So how about showing me the painting?” He seemed determined not to talk about this anymore.

  I reached out and tucked a strand of golden blonde hair behind his ear and said, “I’m glad you told me what’s happening.” I hoisted the easel off the table carefully, then turned it to face him. On the large canvas was the start of a life-size image of Hunter from the hips up, his hair strewn around the bed, his eyes solemn as he looked up out of the canvas. It was a good start, I thought.

  “Holy shit.”

  “Is that a yay-it’s-awesome holy shit, or a God-I-hate-it holy shit?”

  “It’s a what-planet-are-you-from holy shit! I can’t believe you just did that in a few hours. It’s breathtaking.”

  I grinned at him and said thanks, and added, “I still have a ton of work to do on it, but you get the idea of where it’s headed.”

  “This is probably going to sound incredibly vain, but could I buy this from you when you’re done?”

  “Uh, no. But you can have it for free, right after my teacher signs off on it for my term project.”

  “I don’t feel right about that. Your paintings are valuable.”

  “So’s your time, and you will have put as many hours into this as I have by the time it’s completed. I was trying to think of what I could do to thank you for posing for me, and now I know.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Thank you, Christopher. That’s just above and beyond.”

  “Since we’re doing three paintings in all, you may want to wait until they’re done, then pick your favorite.”

  “I already know I want this one. I want it as a reminder.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of our time together, for one thing. And also, I want it as a reminder that someone in the world sees me like this. Whenever I start to feel down, all I’ll have to do is look at this painting and know that I matter to someone.”

  That statement broke my heart, and I pulled Hunter to me and kissed his cheek before hugging him again. He sank into it. And I said gently, “Of course you matter, Hunter. And if this painting reminds you of that, then it’s the most important piece I’ve ever done.”

  He let go of me and tried to laugh it off by saying, “People are going to think I’m so damn stuck up when I hang it in my apartment. They won’t get what it means to me, they’re just going to think I like looking at myself.”

  I shrugged and said, “Who cares what people think?”

  “Good point.” He grabbed his t-shirt and p
ulled it on over his head. “Now come on, do whatever you need to do to clean up. Because if I don’t get that bucket of coffee soon, you’re going to have to add two Xs over the eyes on my masterpiece.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Kieran picked me up that night at six sharp, announcing plans for dinner and a show.

  “You know I don’t actually eat,” I reminded him.

  “We’re going to work on that.”

  “Oh no,” I exclaimed. “You’re going to try to fix me, aren’t you?”

  He grinned and said, “You love me. You can indulge me a little.”

  I grinned at him, too, and got in the Mustang.

  Kieran drove us up to Twin Peaks. Since it was a cold January evening, the scenic overlook was deserted. He spread a blanket out on the hood of his car, then hopped up onto it, picnic basket in tow, and leaned back against the windshield. He patted the space beside him, and I too climbed onto the Mustang. He pulled a second blanket over us, and began rummaging in the basket, eventually producing a pack of the crackers I ate, which he handed to me. I smiled at him and started to open them, but he said, “Hang on. Those come second. We’re going to try a few other foods first.”

  “Kieran—”

  “Baby, hear me out. I’ve been reading up on food phobias. And no, I don’t now think I’m an expert on the subject. I also am not going to pretend I understand what you’re going through,” he said gently. “But because I love you, I want to help you. I want us to try a couple things. Are you ok with that?”

  “I guess.”

  “Good.”

  He began pulling all kinds of groceries out of the basket, lining them up between us. “Please don’t tell me you expect me to try to eat all of that,” I said, dread settling heavily on me.

  “Nope. Here, hold this,” he said, and handed me an empty plastic bowl. “Actually, I don’t expect you to eat any of it.” He picked up an apple and a knife and peeled a small section, then cut out a thin little slice and popped it in his mouth. When he’d swallowed it, he said, “I’m going to give you little bites of different things, after first eating them myself. Don’t try to swallow them, I know that’s where you run into trouble. Just hold them on your tongue for a few seconds, and then split them out into that bowl. It may help you get comfortable with the idea of reintroducing different foods into your diet at some point in the future. Ready to try the apple?”