Lindy glanced over at Michael, who was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a pleased look on his face. He blew her a kiss as she let Diana guide her back into the gallery.
It was an unusual use of exhibit space. Instead of leaving the large floor plan open, Diana had broken it up into almost random sized areas with semi-permanent walls. Each area was painted a rich, solid jewel tone, purple or Amber or burgundy or blue, so different from the traditional bare white. The whole space was brought together by crown and floor molding, cut in matching patterns and stained a dark walnut. The track lighting matched the white of the ceiling, disappearing from notice.
"Don't the artists mind competing with the wall color?” Lindy asked, trying to envision her own art on these walls.
"They did at first,” Diana admitted. “For my first few openings, I had to force my friends to let me show them. But the clients seem to appreciate the warmer feel of the place, and a lot of the artists are starting to find that it actually displays their work better than plain white walls. Carey's work, for example.” She indicated the photography collection being installed. “He has his black and white pictures behind white mats in black frames. On white walls, the images would just disappear. Here they stand out more."
The colors also suited the gallery owner, Lindy realized. While passionate about her gallery, she was a quiet, soothing presence. She couldn't be much older than Lindy herself, but she seemed to carry with her an air of wisdom and experience that Lindy couldn't hope to acquire in her lifetime. She could see why Michael would become friends with her. Her rooted focus was complementary to his boundless energy.
"Do you ever display your own work?” Lindy asked.
Diana shook her head. “I prefer supporting other artists. I think my art is more in putting others on display. I also do volunteer art outreach in some of the local schools. With the budget cuts and the after-effects of September eleventh, art has been more important to the kids around here than ever. We do a special show for them in the spring. I'd like to offer art classes here if I can ever let go of some of the day to day responsibilities of running this place."
"Can't Sarah pick up some of the load?"
Diana shook her head. “She's in her last year. Sculpture. Which means she's got to be getting her senior show ready for spring, and then she's hoping to get to go to Italy for a year to work with some of the masters there. She's keeping an eye out for a promising first year for me, but it will still take a while to get them trained up on all the ins and outs of gallery work. Plus they'll have their own coursework to think about."
Lindy noticed Michael helping Sarah and a slight, balding man, presumably the aforementioned Carey. Michael had taken off his suit coat and was applying patching plaster to a hole in the wall while Sarah hammered picture hooks into the wall at Carey's direction. Every time Carey reached for the hammer himself, the other two shouted him down.
"I haven't seen him this happy in a long time,” Diana said softly over Lindy's shoulder.
Lindy flushed at being caught staring. “You've known him for a while?"
"Almost ten years. We met my first year at Columbia. About halfway through the semester, he started haunting all the art department activities. The girls all figured he was looking for an easy score, so they sent the gay chick to check him out. Turned out he was just really lonely. We've been best friends almost since then. We'd stand up with each other when we needed suitable looking dates, he'd model for me, and I'd critique arguments for him."
"Did you know his ex-wife?” Lindy wasn't sure why she asked that.
"I met her a couple of times. He met her after he'd graduated and gone back to England. I didn't like her much. She was a manipulator, and Rogue's basically too nice for his own good. They were only married a couple of years before..."
"Yeah.” Lindy turned away in case Michael noticed the tears gathering in her eyes.
Diana seemed to pick up on her discomfort. “Well, you've seen mine, how about showing me yours?"
Lindy started at that. “I beg your pardon?"
"Your art! Rogue said he'd make sure you brought your portfolio."
"Oh!” Lindy blushed. She'd obviously been around Michael too long. Everything was starting to sound like innuendo to her. “I did, but he was carrying it..."
"Lose something, love?” She hadn't noticed him crossing over to them.
"My portfolio?"
"I left it in the office. I'll fetch it..."
"No, I'll go. I've been monopolizing your friend.” And she hurried off to the office.
She found it leaning up against the front of the desk. She paused a moment to wipe her eyes carefully and gather her composure before stepping back out into the gallery.
She paused in the doorway as she saw Diana and Michael obviously arguing about something. Diana was gesturing emphatically with one finger, while Michael seemed to be trying to placate her. Finally he crossed his hands over his heart, then kissed her on the forehead. Lindy hesitantly crossed over to them. “Is everything okay?"
"Fine, pet.” He kissed her lightly, wrapping his arms around her. “Diana's just reminding me of the proper behavior for a gentleman."
"When have you ever been a gentleman?” Both women's voices sounded in harmony.
They all laughed, and he raised his hands in surrender. “All right, I confess, I'm a heel of the first water. Good thing I have the two of you to keep me in check. Can we look at the pretty pictures now?"
Diana took the portfolio case from Lindy and opened it up on the work table Sarah and Carey were using. Michael stood behind Lindy, his arms wrapped around her as they looked on.
"These are from school,” Lindy explained as Diana flipped quickly through the first leaves of the collection.
"That was a while ago, wasn't it?"
"Five years,” Lindy admitted.
"What about what you're doing current ... oh my!” She had stopped at the beginning of the pencil drawings she had made of Michael the other day. Diana studied them over carefully before turning the page. “I like your eye. You have a great sense of negative space.” She turned the page again to the first painted piece.
"That's just a test,” Lindy explained. “I want to do a bigger canvas of it..."
Lindy felt Michael draw in a sharp breath behind her.
She had taken the sketch she had made of him sitting in her window and turned it into almost a religious icon. The window was a stained glass image of an angel, wings folded in and garbed in a simple white tunic. His hand was extended in benediction, a mournful look on his face. His fingertips ended mere inches from the top of Michael's head, which was bent and turned away. The anachronism of his clothing and a sharper use of color and line set him apart from the glass, but she had given him a vulnerable air, a sense of sorrow and loss, a search for peace that the glass angel seemed to be offering.
She felt him squeeze her close and bury his face in her neck.
"If you can maintain the intimacy in a larger piece, this would be an amazing work,” Diana offered.
There were several more pages of pencil sketches, and then a ten by fourteen landscape photograph of the canvas of Michael reading. Lindy blushed, but Michael just chuckled and Diana smirked for a moment. Mostly Lindy had only painted in Michael and the rugs so far, taking her time to execute all the details. But she had penciled in the background, full of shelves and stacks of books, a desk corner with a lamp providing the light source for the perspective. “I like how you don't ignore the background,” Diana commented. “A nude like this, a lot of artists would be content with just the model."
"Are you content with the model?” he murmured in her ear.
She stepped on his toes softly.
The last page was a matched pair of portraits. On the left, Michael sat in the studio's armchair, chest and feet bare, one ankle crossed over his knee. She had caught every detail of the studio she could, including the office lights shining through the dark from across the
street. On the right was a rendering of herself taken from one of Michael's photographs. Again, she had not skimped on detail, despite the embarrassment examining her own naked body so closely had caused. She was seated in the same chair Michael was in the other half, although the room's details showed she had moved the chair over a bit. She had been careful to catch the drape and fold of the leather coat she wore, giving it a richness of texture and tone that made her look more regal than simply naked.
She felt his breathing go ragged, and he brushed his groin against the curve of her ass so she could feel his swelling erection.
"That's just...” Diana seemed at a loss for words. “Wow."
"I think I want to do it again, a bit larger, in oils. The color needs to be richer."
"When you're done, I get those,” Michael insisted, his voice guttural against her ear.
"These are all really good, Lindy,” Diana insisted as she closed the portfolio. “If you ever decide to show, I hope you'll come to me first. It would be a real honor to host you."
"Thank you. These are mostly for private consumption, but I appreciate the offer."
Diana offered her the case as Michael slipped his coat back on. “Well, if nothing else, you two should come to dinner with Mercedes and me on Friday. It will have to be early, because we have ritual at eleven, but we'd really like to see you both."
Michael looked to Lindy, who smiled and nodded her head. “I'd like that."
"Dinner it is,” Michael confirmed. “Your place or out?"
"How about our place? At about seven?” She escorted them towards the front door.
"We'll be there.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the temple. “Good luck with the opening tomorrow. Oh, hey, Bit!” He raised his voice to be heard to the back of the gallery. Her dark head popped around the corner. “I'm off. You keep that hammer away from him."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah,” they heard a male voice mutter from behind the wall, and Sarah laughed. “You just make sure you come in and say goodbye before you ship back to Limeyland next week, got it?"
"Promise. Nothing short of disaster could keep me away."
Diana offered Lindy a business card. “Call me anytime."
She took the card with a grateful smile. “I will."
Diana wrapped her in a warm embrace. “Make sure he treats you right."
Michael looked offended. “My intentions are purely honorable!"
"Not even you believe that,” Diana chided.
He smiled and kissed her again, then put his arm around Lindy. “C'mon pet, let's take my dishonorable intentions back home."
Home sounded good to her.
Chapter 28
The watery sunlight from that gray Thursday faded from the windows of Michael's suite as Lindy sat on the couch, a large sketchpad across her lap. The weather only looked to get worse, but it should serve to keep all the Devil's Night tricksters indoors for the evening. Lindy just hoped Michael made it home before the storm broke.
She had been inspired by the approach of Halloween to work on something a little different today. Instead of using her Michael sketches, she had grabbed a couple of snapshots she had of Cara and Timothy's two kids and was busy laying out a costume-inspired picture. Only instead of simply having the children costumed, she was transforming them into their alter egos. So little Amy was the tiniest of witches, her tall pointed hat covered in stars, her dress diaphanous and ragged along the hem and sleeves. Little sparkles of magical energy hovered around her and glittered on and around the head of the broom she held in her far hand. Young Jesse was of course dressed as a vampire, his four year old body towering a foot over his younger sister. He dressed like a traditional Hollywood vampire, black suit, white shirt, black cape lined with red silk, his dark hair slicked back from his face. But where cheap plastic fangs would be, he instead sported rough, ragged teeth, and his eyes she penciled in like cat's eyes, slitted with oval pupils and pale to reflect the yellow she would paint in later. The two of them leaned in quiet awe over a jack-o-lantern he held, the eyes, mouth and open top glowing with an ambient light (she wasn't sure yet what color she would paint it in with) and was surrounded by sparkles similar to those around Cara, although Lindy planned to color the two differently to distinguish them from each other.
She was roughing in a midnight forest background when she heard the key in the lock. With a smile, she put the pad and pencils down and rose to greet him.
She was surprised at how haggard and pale he looked as he came in. His hair was damp, and the drizzle had collected on the shoulders and arms of his coat. He smiled tiredly on seeing her. “Hey, pet."
"Hey yourself.” She took his attaché and helped him out of his coat. “You look like you had a rough day."
"It's not getting any easier,” he sighed, gathering her up in his arms and burying his face in her hair.
She held him quietly for a moment, then gave him a gentle nudge. “Go sit down. You want a drink?"
"That would be brilliant."
She watched him collapse on the couch as she poured a double shot of whiskey into a glass. His head fell against the back of the sofa as he dragged his still shod feet up onto the coffee table with a thump. She let him rest there for a moment before moving over and jiggling the glass, allowing the ice to chime against the crystal and draw his attention. He lifted his head and took the glass from her hand, sipping heavily before dropping his head back down. “God."
She bent over his feet and slipped one of his shoes off. “Pet, you don't have to..."
"Hush.” She removed the other shoe as well and dropped them both on the floor. “Finish your drink."
He did as she commanded while she removed his socks. Then she took the tumbler from his hand and set it aside before sitting next to him on the couch, drawing his head down into her lap. “Just rest for a little while,” she urged, gently dragging her fingers through his hair. “We'll order dinner in a little bit."
"Why don't you go ahead and order now?” he said, rubbing the back of his head against her belly as he settled his head more comfortably in the crook of her hip. “By the time it gets here I should be ready to eat."
"What do you want?” she asked, picking up the phone.
"I don't care.” She could hear his voice thickening in relaxation. “You choose."
"Beef, chicken, fish or pork?"
"Beef,” he grunted.
She dialed the restaurant. “Yes, I'd like to order room service, please ... Suite twelve thirty-seven ... Yes, we need a petite filet ... rare?” He nodded minutely. “Rare. Baked potato ... yes, please...” She moved the phone from her mouth. “What kind of dressing?"
"Blue cheese,” he mumbled.
"Blue cheese,” she repeated. “And the salmon with dill sauce ... grilled vegetables ... Caesar on the side. Do we want dessert?” He shook his head. “Just coffee. And can we have a bottle of merlot? ... Oh, that would be lovely, thank you. And have him just come in when he brings it. He doesn't need to knock. Thank you.” She hung up the phone and focused on stroking Michael's hair, his neck, his shoulders, slowly, softly, soothingly. “Do you want to talk about it?"
"Not for anything in heaven or on earth,” he replied heavily. “But tell me about your day. Wanna hear your voice."
"It wasn't very exciting.” She kept her voice soft and monotone, lulling him with her voice as well as her hands. “I spent a couple of hours this morning paying bills, the usual end of the month things. Then I went down to the studio. Had lunch with a couple of my girlfriends. Came up here around three thirty, and I've been sketching and waiting for you since then."
"Glad you spent time with your mates. You're alone too much."
"Well, that hasn't been true the last several weeks, has it?"
"'S my point. You have too much time to spend with me. Not that I'm complainin'."
"I should hope not."
She felt rather than heard him chuckle.
The silence washed over them comfortably as she gently tou
ched his hair. The valet arrived to find them still sitting like that in the darkness. Lindy shielded Michael's eyes as she turned on a couch lamp and pointed the young man towards the table near the kitchenette. “Over there, please. And leave everything covered for now."
"Yes, ma'am.” And he efficiently began laying out linen and silver and glassware in a fitting semblance of a romantic dinner for two. When he finished, he lit the candles and opened the wine. “Will there be anything else, ma'am?"
"No, thank you, that's perfect,” Lindy replied quietly. “If you would grab my purse by the door, I'll give you your tip."
"I got it, pet,” Michael mumbled. He fished in his trouser pocket and pulled out his wallet, handing it to her. She counted through the bills and handed the waiter a twenty. “Thanks again."
"My pleasure, ma'am. Thank you. You folks have a nice night.” And he let himself out.
She gave Michael's shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Feel like eating?"
"Yeah, I could probably manage something.” He pushed himself up and rubbed his forehead tiredly with the heel of his hand. He noticed the sketchpad and picked it up. She was pleased to see him smile. “Cute kids."
"They're my friend Cara's. Amy's two and Jesse's four."
"I like it. It's cute without being precious."
"Maybe I need to change models permanently.” She offered him a hand up off the couch.
He took it, pulling her close as he dragged himself to his feet. “Nah. I like the way you make me look, too.” And he kissed her then with a gentle intensity that set her alight. She held him close, caressing his body gently, undemandingly, leaving all the passion for their mouths. He was the one to finally break the kiss, resting his forehead on hers with a gentle smile. “Nothing like a little something beforehand to improve the appetite."
She smiled in return and took his hand, drawing him towards the table. “Then come eat."
He held her chair for her, then moved his service over to sit next to her rather than across. She carried the burden of the conversation, watching critically to make sure he was eating. As she related tales of Cara's kids and Jade's conquest in the dress she had bought the day Michael had met them down in Soho, he devoured his salad, then proceeded to work on the potato, adding the occasional bite of steak uninterestedly. He also finished two glasses of wine quickly. When he reached for the bottle again, she laid her hand gently on his. “Eat some more first."
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