by Trish Morey
“Ooh, touchy. So, you want to go out after this”– he put on a hoity toity voice–“‘ex-hi-bi-ti-on’ then?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’ve already got plans that don’t include you.”
“Who do they include?”
He looked over at his crew mate. “None of your damned business.”
“So it’s a woman then.”
Caleb rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it is, actually.”
Richo sat up straighter in his seat, clearly thinking he was on a winner and determined to dig deeper. “And do I know her?”
“You do, as a matter of fact. It’s Mum,” he lied, “and she’s cooking a lamb roast.” At least that bit wasn’t exactly a lie, because roast lamb was Dad’s favourite and she could well have been.
Richo’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I’m not really sure I believe you.”
Caleb indicated and made sure the station forecourt was clear before he did a bit sweeping arc with the appliance, before then reversing in to the station, and then he turned to his mate, smiled sweetly and said, “I’m not really sure I care.”
The night was as hot as the day, the city stuck in the grip of a heatwave that didn’t want to let go, and even at near six pm, the temperature was hovering in the high thirties.
The four fireys uniformed up and travelled to the gallery together in one of the appliances. EJ’s Gallery was situated in an old stone building that started life as the local school, the big, high ceilinged rooms and wide corridors lending themselves to all kinds of art installations and exhibitions, although admittedly the only time Caleb had been inside was that time the toaster had caught fire in the kitchen.
For the next month though, Ava’s art works were taking pride of place, and he walked in to see the walls hung with her pictures, the colours popping against the neutral backdrop, and Caleb felt a burst of pride. Positioned around her studio, the assembled collection had looked fantastic. Here, skilfully arranged around the gallery walls, the collection was even more stunning, with already a large crowd in attendance, circulating and admiring the works, the number growing by the minute. And all he wanted to do was find Ava and pull her into his arms and tell her how proud of her he was. And, maybe, if tonight went the way he planned, he might be able to.
“Thank god for air conditioning,” Richo said beside him, tugging at his collar, and Caleb agreed, the air conditioners thankfully belting out cool air so walking inside had felt like stepping from a furnace to a fridge and they didn’t have to feel like dicks in their uniforms when everyone else was wearing short sleeves or strapless cocktail dresses.
As it turned out, he didn’t have to look for Ava. She surprised him by finding him. They’d only been there five minutes and she singled him out. “The tap in the kitchen is stuck. You don’t think you could give me a hand with that, do you?”
Richo was just about to step forward when Caleb stopped him with a hand to his chest. “That’s okay, buddy, I reckon I’ve got this one covered. You go rattle some tins for charity.”
She slipped through a door marked private and he followed right behind, black and white attired waiters carrying trays of canapes or bearing glasses of sparkling wine going the other way. God, but she looked gorgeous tonight. She was wearing a red silk sleeveless blouse over black silk pants and sandals, the material floating about her slim form as she walked, and she’d tied her hair into a knot at the back of her head that he itched to undo later and let her hair sweep down over her bare shoulders after he’d undressed her. Through another door and they were in the kitchen. More people. He cursed the crowd scene, itching as he was right now to pull her into his arms.
Bugger them. He couldn’t wait until later. She turned to face him and in the same moment he caught her in his arms and pulled her to him, kissing her hard on her open mouth, letting her know he was here for her, before, just as quickly, letting her go.
She blinked her surprise, her eyes bright. “Wow.” Then she gave him a quick once-over. “I’ve never seen you in uniform before.”
“And?”
She looked him up and down again. “I like it,” she said, with a smile, “maybe I should draw you with more clothes on next time.” She sucked in a quick breath then, as if suddenly remembering why she was here and what was at stake.
He put a hand to her shoulder. He could see the tension around her eyes, she had so much riding on this exhibition, and, while he ached to pull her into his arms and kiss her again and kiss her nerves away, there was a constant stream of foot traffic going in and out behind them. “Are you nervous?”
“A little. It’s the biggest solo show I’ve done.” She looked up at him and took a deep breath. “Actually, I’m really nervous.”
“You shouldn’t be. It looks amazing. It’s going to be a huge success. I’m so proud of you, Ava.”
She smiled up at him and put a hand to his chest and even through his jacket Caleb felt like she was reaching right inside to his heart. “Thank you for being here. Are you still okay for later?”
He sure was. He had dinner already ordered, a bottle of champagne chilling in the fridge at home, along a bunch of red roses to pick up on the way, and a feeling that he wasn’t wrong about this thinking tonight was going to be special.
He lifted her hand, pressing his lips to it. “I’ll be there.”
The door behind them opened again. “Anyone seen our—Oh, there you are, Ava.”
“Evan.”
He looked at the watch at his wrist. “We’re about to get started with the speeches. Ten minutes, does that sound okay?” He looked over at Caleb, his eyes narrowing and Caleb wondered if he remembered him from the kitchen fire, only to be surprised when he said, “You wouldn’t be our life model, would you?”
“Me?” He turned to Ava.
She smiled apologetically. “Evan asked if you’d be here. I told him I was hoping you’d make it.”
“A firefighter, eh,” Evan said, thrusting out his hand, looking delighted. “That makes a lot of sense. You’ve got quite the fan club going on out there right now, Mr...”
“Caleb,” he said, shaking the other man’s hand, not entirely comfortable with the thought of a fan club. “Caleb Knight.”
“Good to meet you, Caleb. Now, Ava, we should be—”
“Oh,” Caleb interrupted, “and Evan?”
“Yes?”
“I’d just like to point out that nobody’s supposed to know that it’s me out there. I’d appreciate it if we could keep it that way.”
The gallery owner made a display of zipping his lips, before he unzipped them to say, “Your secret’s safe with me.” And he promptly zipped them up again.
Caleb did a lap of the rooms trying to look like nothing more than a random firefighter volunteering his time collecting donations, but couldn’t help but notice on “that” wall, that there were only three of Ava’s pictures of him hanging there. The one featuring his naked butt cheeks was missing. Clearly not suitable for a family show, thank god. He found Richo up the back of the room talking to Tina and Matt about the merits or otherwise of the artworks.
“Not my kind of thing,” Richo said, sounding disappointed while he did a three-sixty gesturing towards the artwork. “Pots, fruit and flowers, and then more pots and fruit.” He shook his head and pointed to end wall that had been dedicated to Ava’s nudes. “And as for the beefcake over there, it’d be a bit gay, if I went for that, don’t you reckon?”
“I don’t think you’d get a look in anyway,” Tina said, “not given the interest from that lot.”
Caleb winced at the crowd of women standing in front of pictures of him – admiring Ava’s skilful pencil strokes, he told himself, because he couldn’t afford to let himself think anything else.
“Didn’t you say you came here to meet girls, Richo?” Caleb said. “Nobody thought you were here to buy works of art. What are you doing standing up the back?”
His mate sighed and held
out his hands. “Dude, here I am, a firefighter decked out in all my firefighting best, and all the women are over there checking out the beefcake. I mean, they buy our Christmas calendars like crack cocaine. I really thought I’d be in with a chance here.”
“There, there,” Caleb said, patting him on the back, finally starting to relax now that nobody had twigged – in fact, nobody seemed to have the slightest clue – starting to enjoy the evening and feeling prouder than ever of Ava.
“Maybe you should take your shirt off,” suggested Tina to Richo. “Give the beefcake a bit of competition.”
“I will if you will,” Richo said, and Matt, who had up until now been standing alongside Tina and looking equally bored with the exhibition, punched him in the arm with his rattling donations tin. “Maybe you just need a bigger hose.”
“Hey,” said Richo, looking from Tina to Matt, “what is this? A tag team?”
“Behave,” growled Caleb, liking the way Matt was taking it up to the older man. He wasn’t sure if there was something going on between the kid and Tina, but he was fitting in just fine. “They’re about to start the speeches.”
“Hey,” whispered Richo, leaning closer, “how did you get on with that tap?”
“What tap?”
“Phht,” he said, nodding knowingly. “I thought as much.”
And Caleb, who had rarely been tempted to give an adult a clip around the ear, was sorely tempted now.
Evan was standing behind a lectern ready to introduce Ava by his side – Ava, who was standing all alone, sending Caleb an arrow loaded at the tip with guilt. He should be there to support her, not standing at the back of the crowd like some someone who didn’t give a damn. He gave way more than that.
Evan clapped his hands and started his introduction, starting with his thanks to the attendees, and to the great cause this night was supporting through donations to the Children’s Hospital Burns Unit by Ava, the caterers and by slashing his own commission, which he made a big point of, and then waited for the applause. Satisfied, he next paid tribute to the firefighters who’d volunteered their time to support the exhibition, firefighters from the station whose quick response had saved the gallery from burning down a few weeks before.
“Damn right,” said Richo, puffing up his chest, as the crowd applauded some more.
He moved on to introducing Ava then, a woman who’d had a childhood dream of being an artist but who’d had to fund her studies painting faces at every Sunday market and fair going, but whose realism set a new benchmark in the art world. An artist who wove her art around the natural world and turned still life into a snapshot of real life.
With every word, Caleb felt his respect for this woman growing. He’d never known of her struggle to fund her way through art school. She’d never told him she’d painted children’s faces to pay for her studies. It grieved him that there was still so much about her he didn’t know.
“Ladies and gentleman – and our wonderful firefighters who we never thank enough,” Evan said, extending his arm to them and garnering an extra round of cheers, “I give you the artist, Ava Mattiske.”
Ava’s speech was brief, directed to her art and what she’d been trying to achieve – she talked to the theme of the exhibition, of texture and how it enriched all our lives. She talked about the rugged texture of the land where she lived and how it informed her art and how, through her works, she hoped to show there was texture in everything – from the pitted yellow skin of a lemon, to the remarkable skin-scape of the human body – if we only looked closely enough. And we were all the richer for it.
As the applause rose, Caleb’s heart swelled. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this proud of anyone in his life. He watched on as Evan handed her a huge arrangement of flowers, swapping them with the microphone. “I’m gratified to see the number of red dots already on the paintings on this collection, and seriously thinking you’re not charging enough, Ava.”
There was a ripple of laughter.
“But, now, for the big event. We’ve held back on releasing one picture in the collection for sale, because we think the price should be set by the market and so this particular picture is being put up for silent auction and an auction that will run the entire month of the exhibition, so there’s plenty of time to come in and take another look and make a bid. And I’m very pleased to say that Ava is donating one hundred percent of the proceeds for this particular picture to the Burns Unit and the Children’s Hospital, so I’m hoping that you all dig deep.
“So here it is...”
With the help of an assistant, the covered canvas was raised to a stand on the podium.
Caleb groaned while the audience oohed and aahed, because there, on the podium in the middle of the room where everyone could see it, no matter where they stood, was Caleb, sprawled on the bed, his majestic butt cheeks on full display at head height. He glanced over at Ava, sending her a silent what the fuck? But she just shrugged apologetically.
Beside him, Richo was staring. Hard. “Geez, mate,” he said with a laugh, “if I didn’t know better, I’d reckon that could almost be you.”
Caleb’s breath stalled in his throat. “Good thing you know better then,” he said, when finally he could breathe again, “in that case.”
“No, seriously, it does look a bit like you. Look, even the tatt on the arm.”
He snorted, never more pleased that he’d begged Ava to blur the lettering of the family motto wherever it appeared. “Everyone’s got tatts these days.”
His mate peered close. “But—”
“Come on, Richo, you think a woman who sees me as Peppa Pig is going to use me as some life model?”
And Richo looked at him and smirked. “Yeah, dumb ass idea, hey.” He pointed to Caleb’s face. “Now, that was a work of art.”
And it was Caleb’s greatest pleasure to punch his mate on the arm.
He saw Ava across the room and threaded his way over, rattling his tin for donations on the way, trying to look inconspicuous, but she was way too busy talking to guests sipping wine and talking about her work to talk to him and he made his disconsolate way back. He was seeing her after. It could wait.
Richo was nowhere to be seen when he got back.
“Where did Richo get to?” he asked Tina.
“Over there,” she said, gesturing with her tin, “checking out the artwork. I think he might be interested in making a bid.”
Caleb turned around and groaned when he saw Richo standing in front of the picture, his mobile phone cocked in front of his face. Good grief. He headed straight over, not making a pretence of stopping for donations this time, and planted himself between the picture and Richo. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Admiring the art work,” he said, shifting to one side and clicking off another photo.
“Will you stop that? You’re making an idiot of yourself.”
Richo pulled the phone from his eyes. “Ahem, who exactly is making an idiot of himself? I’m not the one posing for nudey pictures. You really thought I fell for that crap you just spun?”
Caleb looked around, saw several curious heads in a nearby group turned in their direction from which one woman emerged with a notebook in her hand looking from one man to the other. “Excuse me, did I hear you say this man is our model? I’m Valerie Robertson, from The Eastern Reporter, do you think we could get a photo of you in front of the painting?”
Richo grinned and cocked his finger at him. “Gotcha,” he said, and then to a young woman standing alongside Valerie. “Ava asked me to pose first, but I’m the shy type.”
She raised her eyebrows and gave him a quick once-over before she held out one hand. “I’m Gillian,” she said with a smile. “It’s lovely to meet you. But I’m sure you’d make a fabulous model yourself.”
It was just on dark when they returned to the station, though the temperature had hardly budged, the air over Adelaide like sitting under a hot blanket. Thankfully, still a smoke free blanket. Caleb
got changed and picked up his keys, heading for his car.
Richo was heading out at the same time, clearly in a hurry.
“Where’s the fire?”
His mate winked. “I’ve got a date with Gillian. I reckon I’m in there.”
“Lucky Gillian.”
“Oh hey,” said Richo, with a wink, his keys poised in his hand. “Be sure to say hi to your mum for me. Wink. Wink.”
And Caleb was in such a good mood, he even managed a wry smile. The exhibition opening had been an amazing success and there was still a month to run. Sure, he hadn’t been too thrilled about the whole bare-assed silent auction thing, but he was beginning to see there might be a bright side to even that. “Sure. I’ll do that.”
Five minutes later, he had the takeaway collected and the chilled champagne and roses on board and fifteen minutes later he was up high in the hills, the lights of the city twinkling far below. For once, she actually came outside to greet him, like she’d been waiting impatiently for him to get there, her eyes bright as she threw her arms around his neck so ferociously he had to hold his arms out to the sides to protect his precious cargo.
“Can you believe how well tonight went?” And then she took his face in her hands and kissed him so passionately on the mouth, it was a miracle he didn’t throw the champagne and roses away and bundle her up in his arms and take her straight to bed.
“You’re a star,” he told her breathlessly, when he could get a word in between her kisses. “These are for you, in recognition of how brilliant you are.”
“Champagne!” she said, clutching the bottle. “And flowers.” She smiled up at him, the golden highlights in her eyes incandescent. “This is the best day.”
And Caleb knew it was, all the way down to his toes. And, if he had his way, it was about to get even better.
“I’m so sorry about the picture and silent auction thing,” she said, as they made their way inside, still wrapped in each other’s arms. “It was Evan’s idea at the last moment. I hope you don’t mind.”
He had, at the time, and he’d been even more aghast when Richo had blown his secret wide open, but now he was getting to like the idea of people knowing about their relationship. Once upon a time, it had suited them both to keep it secret, but as far as he was concerned it was way past its use by date. It was time it came out of the closet. “Forget it,” he told her. “It’s for a good cause.”