by Davis, SJ
"Will you help me bring a box to my car?" She pulled Russell's sleeve.
Russell had to go to work, he wore a suit and was going to lunch, and Lauren asked him to help her.
Art for hire. Not art for art. Not art for creativity. Art for money. A hired pen. He stood up. "I'll do it and I'll make the offer even better." He went to Lauren's other side and decided to test his friend. "I think I'll go on calls with you and then we can both meet our better third for lunch." Two could play the challenge game.
"You hate going on calls with me." She narrowed her eyes.
"I think it will be good for the art." He grinned, using his teeth and everything. What would be good for the art would be making art, not pornography. He needed to clear his head and spend some time with at least one of his muses outside of the bedroom. Going to work with Lauren was sort of working. He glanced at Russell with his jaw set and his focus just beyond the two of them.
"Okay." She hugged him. "I suppose I could do worse than you as an assistant."
He embraced her back, and shut his eyes. He wasn't an assistant or a car salesman. He was an artist.
Chapter Eleven
"No worries, we'll catch you at home." Lauren hit end on her cell phone and turned to Jason. "Russ got called into an emergency meeting, he can't make lunch." Though not like him to cancel, his new job demanded a lot of his time. "Oh well." This would have been the first time she went out with both of them since they got together, but she still wasn't sure if they were even dating for real.
"Good thing you brought a spare guy." Jason held his elbow out to her.
She refused his peace offering and began walking to their next call.
Jason ran ahead, skidding to a stop in front of her. "I apologized to the staff and the doctor."
Not wanting to get sucked into to forgiving him, she tapped her foot. Normally, he served as her number one sales tool, today he was simply a tool.
He bowed his head. "I am sorry." Once more he held out his arm.
There was no staying mad at him, it was a silly waste of energy and she laced her arm in his.
They walked down Bedford Drive, or as she liked to call it, Plastic Surgery Central. Not only did this area drip with every big name Dermatologist and Plastic Surgeon, but there was an entire building which housed only those two specialties.
"I don't feel like doing any more calls." As they strolled, she rested her head against his shoulder.
"Yes, dropping off flyers to three practices while you wear next to nothing and having every male kiss or paw you does make for a full day."
"Jason!" This time she stopped. "You just apologized."
"That I did, but it doesn't make up for the fact that you are half naked and every man on this block has touched in some inappropriate way." He put his arm around her.
"Don't tell me you're jealous." She let out a laugh. Maybe he should try hanging out with himself and every woman who wanted to fling their panties in his direction. "You didn't have to make a scene." Fine, she loved the scene he made when he pulled her away from one of her accounts, but she needed to keep up a front.
"I don't think all those men should be caressing you."
"What about Russell?" She grinned.
"I am speaking for both of us." He cleared his throat. "I am sure he would insist you get dressed."
"This is a normal business outfit." She put her hands on her hips.
"What happened to pant suits?" He reached down to the hem of her skirt and tried to pull it down. "What else do we have today?"
"Stop doing that!" She swiped his hand away from her outfit and lifted her phone to access her calendar. The name of her next call may as well have stood out in underline, bold, italic and red. Her body stiffened, but she still tried to shut the phone off. "Let's get lunch."
"Wait." He captured the phone.
"Deli is just around the corner." She kept her eyes on the phone and did everything in her power not to grab it back.
"We don't have time for lunch, we have to go see Dr. Porter, Dr. Carter and Dr. Dalton." He nodded. "That last one sounds familiar."
The problem in being with, or dating, or doing whatever, with her best friends was they knew too much. "I just saw him for lunch last week. I can go another time. I make my own schedule."
He shifted his focus to her. "Isn't he like your number one account?"
"Let's go get deli first." She needed to stop protesting.
"All right a short lunch break, and then off to Dr. Dalton's." He motioned forward.
"Okay." They turned the corner onto little Santa Monica. "Look, they keep opening up pop-up stores here." Small stores opening for a day or two in vacant storefronts were the latest L.A. trend. Sometimes it was a famous designer, or electronics, or even home goods, but it was always fun to check them out.
"You turned this into a shopping trip." Jason moaned. "You can't stop the inevitable."
No, but she could delay it. "Come on." She stood on her tiptoes to get a view down the street. A new store popped up in the spot that sold tents and outdoors stuff only last week.
"Five minutes and you can't break Russell's budget."
"Like you even know the word budget." She pulled him.
Today the store had blacked out windows, and no name. Her heart began to pound. Sometimes the top designers hid like this, offering only the most lucky or the most in the know a chance to buy specialty items at a fraction of the cost. "Jason!" She gripped his arm. "What if it's a secret Jacque's store?" There could be a Valerie bag in there. She’d heard of this. One of the bags with a microscopic scratch, not enough to be detected by the naked eye, but enough to be rejected by the stringent standards of the Jacque's craftsmen who designed the portable masterpiece.
"Oh my god, what if it's a Jacque's store!" Jason raised his voice to sound like a girl and held her.
"We have to get there." Her blood sped up, fast tracking her adrenaline through her body and she jumped off the curb.
The screeching of brakes, the honk of a horn and Jason screaming her name caused her to freeze the second she landed on the asphalt.
"Lauren!" Jason yanked her back up on the sidewalk, away from the huge white luxury car that tried to decimate her.
The shaking started the moment his arms were around her. She kept her eyes shut and breathed in. No matter what, the smell of soap with a layer of some special shaving cream Jason bought followed him everywhere, but right now it was like being encompassed in the comforter Russell just put on the bed to warm them as the nights started to chill.
"Are you okay?" He smoothed her hair down.
She nodded, but wasn't sure.
"Purse or no purse, we will only go over there if we use the crosswalk." He held her at arm’s length.
"Okay." She wrinkled her nose. "The bag would look terrible with tread marks."
"The bag would look terrible without you." He tilted his head as if inspecting her. "There will be no more freaking out over phone calls and hand bags. We have to keep you with us."
At his words, she couldn't stop her smile.
"You're not supposed be smiling. I'm trying to be firm." He wagged his finger at her.
"What is with you with phones and purses?"
Now she frowned. She wanted to be about more than phones and purses.
He blew through his lips, took them to the corner and with an over exaggerated movement pushed the walk button. "See the little walking man in green? That means we can go."
Phones, purses, outfits, and shopping. She stared down at the lines in the crosswalk as Jason guided her across the street.
“Hey.” Jason tapped her as they made their way up on the sidewalk.
She raised her head, once more taking him in. Neither Jason nor Russell were what she would consider materialistic. Yes, they liked their items, but they wouldn’t have thrust themselves in front of a moving car in a quest for them.
“Don’t you want to go in?” He pointed to the store.
Sh
e glanced at the blacked out windows, back to Jason and inhaled.
“Come on.” He held his hand out to her. “Let’s just look.”
She closed her eyes and took his hand, choosing to look down at their fingers tangled together as they crossed the threshold into the store.
They entered the dark space and when Jason gave her a squeeze, she finally took the store in.
No handbags, scarves or shoes graced the walls. No women scrambling for the latest find. Instead, she was presented with a makeshift art gallery. Black walls, strategic lights and silence perfectly framed the paintings inside. Nothing else was in the small space except for a desk in the far back corner and a few people taking in the art.
Without a word, Jason took her to the nearest painting.
After going with Jason from gallery to gallery for years, she knew when he was taken by what he observed. Right now was one of those times. Instead of laughing, or searching for someone he may know, he became silent. His grip on her hand loosened, and he stood in front of the first piece, stepping forward and back as if to get a different perspective in the few inches he moved. Jason was about a lot more than the superficial. His world was art, meaning and nuance.
She chewed her lip. For that matter, Russell was always about learning, trying to do what was right, helping a friend. She sighed and moved closer him.
The art itself was interesting, depicting space, stars, planets and otherworldly scenes. Lauren nodded, the décor of the temporary gallery made perfect sense.
“What is it?” Jason whispered. “What do you see?”
Before she answered, opened her mouth and said something about how everyone looks good in black, Jason's last showing flashed through her mind.
The gallery that night was white, glossy and vibrant, the colors he used in his paintings seemed to bounce off the walls. Maybe his agent got it wrong. Maybe they needed black to absorb some of the hues, let the paintings stand out and glow. She wondered if Jason thought the same thing. “I just liked the way the gallery is jet black, like space. It gives a good backdrop to the paintings.”
"Ah, a woman who understands."
Lauren turned to find an older man dressed in black standing next to her with his arms crossed.
He motioned toward the painting. "The finest art wouldn't look half as spectacular if it didn't have the proper back drop."
She fought a smile. That sounded like something Jason or his parents would say. Of course, Jason's parents would rearrange their home to display something their son created. The image of Jason's mother deciding that only hard wood would do for Jason's sculpture, and Jason's father pulling out only a square of carpet to accommodate the request made her smile widen.
"The artist is a fan of science fiction. Before I took him under my guidance he was painting snowcapped mountain tops and sold his work for under a hundred dollars a piece to old ladies in Venice." The man nodded. "I asked him to paint to his passion, make a mountain top on an undiscovered planet." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "I just sold one of his works for over five thousand dollars, and this is just the beginning."
Her smile dissipated as she pressed her lips together. Jason didn't need to hear this. "Who are you?"
"Vincent Ingsby, Agent." He extended his hand. "If you fall in love with one of the pieces I wouldn't delay. I have been open since this morning, and will definitely sell out. I sent the artist home to get to work while his muse and adrenaline were in full force. He is a talent."
"I'll show you talent." In one swift motion she stepped in front of Jason and reached into her bag for her wallet. She was about more than material crap.
"Lauren." Jason uttered his first word since Vincent intruded upon them.
She knew Jason's warning tone. It wasn't as much as a tone as it was the way he didn't call her Laurie, but she wouldn't be swayed. Planets and stars were fine, but the final frontier didn't best her artist. She unzipped her wallet and pulled out her old style photo holder, flipping past the picture of the three of them at college graduation with their caps and gowns, a picture of Russell as a teenager in front of his family home, and a picture of Jason with no hair in high school. "Take a look at this." She turned the plastic holder to the man.
"What have we here?" Vincent held his hand out.
"There are more." She gave it to him, but helped the man turn the little flaps to see all of Jason's art. "His style is realistic set against the abstract."
Vincent lifted the photo and nodded. "I particularly like the artist's use of different textures."
"Of course you do." She stood up straighter, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Jason with crossed arms, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Look at the next one."
Vincent pursed his lower lip. "The artist is trying a bit too hard here." He ran his finger over Jason's interpretation of a forest scene. Purple, blue and red shapes created the background for pine trees and a cabin.
A challenge. This was more personal than when a doctor would tell her that her filler was too expensive. She wanted to visit this landscape that existed only in Jason's mind. In fact, that painting hung in her bedroom. "I think art is about pushing and trying. I think his use of color is exceptional. If it were framed correctly he could get ten thousand easy."
Jason put his hand to his brow.
"Are you an agent?" Vincent lifted his eyebrows.
"I am a consumer, the very one you sell to, and I know what I like." She put her fingers on her pictures.
Vincent kept hold of the art. "Who is the artist?"
She lifted her chin and turned to Jason. He may be pretending to study the paintings, but the way his foot tapped let her know he was listening. "Jason Morgan."
Vincent returned the photos to her and walked over to Jason.
She held her breath.
"Mr. Morgan, are you being represented now?"
Jason nodded and shrugged.
"I see." Vincent reached into his shirt pocket. "Is it the showing or the lack of work?"
She wrapped her arms around herself and swallowed though it did nothing to moisten her throat.
"I have work." Jason's voice was wound tight, as if it wanted to break.
"Interesting." He offered Jason a business card. "If you want to talk about how long you've been blocked, or something other than commissioned work, I'm doing a showing at the Eaves in West Hollywood in two weeks. An artist should only create what he or she is passionate about. Then they don't have to try."
Jason took the card.
Vincent glanced at her and left.
After a few moments Jason turned to her. "Are you ready for deli?" He ripped the card in half and shoved the pieces in his pocket.
"Jase." She went to reach for him.
He caught her hand.
"I think you're an amazing artist."
"I think you're jaded." He pulled her toward him, dipped his head down and stopped just short of her lips.
"I wish Russell were here." She put her fingertips to his mouth. Her attempt to help failed, and now he wouldn't kiss her because of their rule.
"Me too." He kissed her fingers. "I'm can hardly wait to tell him you almost killed yourself by flinging yourself into the street for a purse."
No, she didn't help Jason, and she did almost kill herself in the quest for a handbag. "I wish Russ could have snuck out of that meeting and joined us. It would have been cool to go out all together." Now she couldn't remember the last time the three of them did anything outside the house. She was that self-centered. All she did was come home and let these men tend her. "Why don't we call it a day?"
"Sorry, no can do." He reached down to the hem of her skirt once more. "But I do think we need to make a pit stop before we see Dr. Dalton."
She pushed his hand away and followed him out. The inevitable was here, and she still wasn't sure what they were doing.
Chapter Twelve
Russell looked up from his desk with enough time to watch Jason and Lauren
zigzag through the cubicles towards his office. He stood as they entered, filling up the small space. "What's going on?" They were both here. Both of them. He clenched his fist and forced himself to open it. They had both been here hundreds of times. Everything was fine. He took a breath.
Lauren narrowed her eyes, jerked her arm away from Jason, and crossed her arms.
Jason pointed at him then pointed at himself. "You and I need to talk about this." He pointed to Lauren.
Lauren tapped her foot. "I thought this was done."
"Weren't you on calls?" He asked though he knew the answer.
Jason put both hands on his desk. "I need to go to the bathroom. With you."
"What happened?" Russell swallowed and peeked out the door. No one was looking…yet. He walked around the desk and hit his door closed. "Maybe we should talk about it."
"He almost ruined a sale for me." Lauren tattled first. "I was talking to the doctor and he made a noise and tried to pull my skirt down. The doctor almost got a different type of show if he would have yanked any harder."
"Why is she wearing a mini skirt to work?" Jason motioned toward the hemline of Lauren's outfit. "By the way, I can answer that question."
Lauren didn't appear any different. Before he addressed his best friend, he held his finger up. "Did you get the sale?"
"Yes, but only because I told the doc that I was taking Jason to get a refill for his tranquilizer and offered him a free syringe." She turned to Jason.
At the moment he needed medication to stop the headache that decided to make an appearance along with his two bedmates. "What's the answer to the question?"
Jason straightened up and stared right at Lauren. "Her job is pornography and she is the star." With the words out, he held his arms up and backed away.
"How dare you!" Lauren stalked toward him. "So now I'm a porn star? I thought you liked it that way."