Perfectly Too Far

by Regina Button

  “Lorraine, this is amazing! Did you set this all up by yourself?”

  “Psh,” she laughed, disentangling herself so she could finish adjusting things on the table. “It was nothing! You did all the real work, the art looks fantastic.”

  “Do you think I'll sell anything, then?” Judith didn't want to ask so bluntly, to reveal her goals or her fears, but in the moment it simply slipped out. Biting her lip, she studied the woman's face for any hint of doubt, finding only that crooked smile.

  “Judith, honestly. You're worrying too much. I'm sure you'll sell something on your first night. Now, help me with these. They're the registration cards, so people can bid secretly by number on the art.”

  Together, they finished setting up. It was just in time.

  As the evening turned the outside sky into a navy bruise, the warmth of the gallery seemed to draw people in like bugs to a lantern. They lined up, and didn't stop. Quickly, the place was full, and Judith was smothered in a haze of comments and questions from pure strangers.

  “How long did this take you?”

  “Have you painted for a long time?”

  “What school do you go to?”

  “Do you plan to have another showing in the future?”

  “What was your inspiration?”

  By the end of the first hour, the young woman was dizzy. She swam through the crowd looking for Lorraine. The tall woman was caught in her own sea of people, juggling forms and answering questions.

  Judith ducked her head, worming her way towards a far wall, trying to become invisible. Glancing around, she saw some of her canvases, as well as the papers next to them. The little cards had been filled out with her prices, and her heart throbbed with the excitement of knowing people might buy her work. It made her brain tingle, the memory of the night before tugging at her curiosity.

  I wonder if that guy, Benedict... I wonder if he'll come by and purchase the big piece he liked.

  Rubbing her neck, feeling the dampness from the heat of such a crammed space, she sighed. There was no time to even ponder if she'd see that stranger again. Already, people were swarming her once more, demanding her attention, making her feel claustrophobic.

  Somehow, the time flew by. All too soon Judith was waving farewell to the last stragglers leaving her gallery. “Bye! Have a good night!” Smiling, she locked the door, then promptly sat on the floor. “Oh my goodness. That was insane.”

  “Right?” Lorraine laughed, flopping over the long table. Her eyes twinkling on the young artist. “But it was fun, wasn't it? How did you like it, be honest.”

  Giggling, Judith covered her eyes with an arm as the lights above blinded her. “It was amazing. I loved it. But,” she suddenly gasped, sitting up and gripping the edge of the table. Her nose was close to Lorraine's, the willowy woman smirking at the clear anticipation on Judith's face. “Did I sell anything?”

  “Actually,” Lorraine started, her expression twitching. It was strange, seeing such delight morph to consternation. Judith instantly felt her belly clench with dread. “There was one person who was a buyer tonight.”

  “Oh,” she pouted, trying not to feel too dejected, “just one?”

  “Yeah, but...” Lorraine frowned, her fingers gliding over a stack of papers. “I don't know how to say this. Um, you might have a fan, or something.”

  Knotting her brow, Judith settled onto her knees. “Me, a fan? Besides you?”

  “I like your work, don't get me wrong, but this is... different. Here, just look.” With an expression that bordered on dubiousness, Lorraine slid a piece of paper across the table. The red-head didn't want to touch it, but she was too curious. Grabbing it, she lifted it close and read the form.

  “I don't understand,” she mumbled, “this is a sheet listing all of my artwork, why...?”

  “No, Judith. It's a list of all your work that sold tonight.”

  The two stared at each other, the clarity sinking into Judith like a heavy stone. “You're telling me one person bought everything? One person, they bought it all?”

  Lorraine didn't give an answer, but she didn't need to. This was strange, they both knew it, and it marred what should have otherwise been amazing news.

  Tentatively, Judith rolled her eyes down that paper, terrified to read the signature at the bottom. But she had to know, she needed to see the name of the person who would have the money, the desire, to purchase her entire collection.

  Scrawled beautifully with the practiced penmanship of someone who knew their signature would be read over and over, was a name that made her skin prickle.

  Benedict Vance.

  ****

  Judith stared into her glass of wine, the pair sitting on the floor of the gallery with a bottle between them. Lorraine had insisted they celebrate, and the young woman had little in the way of resistance. Lorraine didn't seem to care that Judith was only nineteen, she just poured her the drink, insisting she deserved a bit of law breaking.

  “You really don't know who he is, Judith?”

  “I'm serious, should I know?”

  “Well,” the other woman tilted her head back, her mop of hair waving like there was a breeze in the room. “Here's the thing. I actually do recognize his name, is why I'm asking.”

  “What?” Judith almost spilled her wine, her knees to her chest as she leaned forward. “Why didn't you say anything before?”

  Shrugging, Lorraine drained the last of her glass and pursed her lips. “I thought you knew. Listen, it's sort of like... You know, you assume people know some names by default.”

  “Some names, you say. Who is he?”

  Pouring out the last of the bottle, Lorraine tapped the rim of her drink in thought. “He's one of the biggest donors to Sun Arts College.”

  “Sun Arts College!?”

  “Yeah, that's right. Why do you look so pale?”

  Touching her cheek, Judith tried to slow down her brain. “That's—that's the college I've been trying to get into.”

  Lorraine gaped at her. “I'm trying to be relaxed here, for your sake. But this is insane, Judith. Like, extremely insane.”

  Hanging her head, her lashes brushing her cheeks, Judith breathed out loudly. The scent of the alcohol was bothering her, making her stomach ripple with sourness. “I know it is.” Is this coincidence? Fate? What's it mean?

  “No,” Lorraine said. “You don't. Here, this is the part I was waiting to give up.” Digging into her pocket, she pulled out a crinkled card, offering it like it might bite. Judith reached for it just as reluctantly, turning it over to realize it was a business card.

  “Why did he give you this?”

  “He wanted me to tell you to call him, he... he wanted to know if you took commissions.” Lorraine hesitated, biting her lip. “I said I wasn't sure. He insisted I give you that, so you could reach him.”

  Judith felt a strong urge to throw the card away, but part of her was intrigued. “How long did you guys talk?”

  “Not long. I was busy, and he pretty much just handed me the form and a blank check,” she laughed, shaking her head in disbelief. “You understand how much money you made tonight, right?” Lorraine searched Judith's dazed eyes, her tone softer. “You don't need to do this for the cash, is my point.”

  “I know,” she whispered, still staring at the card. “But money aside, and I thought I'd never say that, this guy might be my in. Maybe he'd be able to help me get past admissions finally, if he has as much pull as it sounds.” What would he want from me, though, in exchange? Does he really just like my art?

  Lorraine grabbed the empty bottle, standing with a groan as she cracked her back. “Well, this gallery is going to be done, now. Your stuff will stay up for the month, but you don't need to come here, since it's all sold. I can cut you your share, and then...” The wine bottle crashed loudly into the trash, making Judith jerk in surprise. “Then, I guess you can do whatever you like.”

  Tucking the business card into her pocket, Judith stood as well, seeming l
ost in her own head.

  “Judith.”

  “Yeah?” she asked, looking up to find the worried face of her new friend. How fast, but yes, we did become friends.

  “Just remember, you don't need to call him. You don't need to do anything, alright?”

  Can I really just do nothing? Frowning, she took one more look around the room, finally ending on the large piece, the work Benedict had walked in on her painting last night.

  Her mind was a blur, considering her options; her curiosity, and the potential in this venture for the one thing she really wanted.

  With a forced smile, she faced Lorraine, holding out a hand. “I know. Thank you, I'll keep in touch.”

  When they shook, Judith noticed how hard Lorraine gripped her. Suddenly, it turned into a fierce hug, leaving the girls both breathless.

  “Don't do anything dumb,” Lorraine mumbled into her ear.

  Judith simply didn't reply.

  Chapter 3.

  For the third time, Judith lifted her cell phone, finger hovering over the buttons. Benedict's card lay on her bed beside her, but she didn't need to look at it. By now, she'd managed to unintentionally ingrain his phone number into her mind.

  Sighing, Judith lowered her cell, staring at the screen. It displayed the time, reminding her it was after ten at night. It gave her an easy out. He's probably asleep. Also, who calls anyone this late, ever?

  Yet, her whole body and brain were buzzing; anxious, unable to relax. Lorraine's warning, as if she could call it anything else, rumbled in her memory.

  She's wrong, I do need to do this. It's such an opportunity to get an upper hand, to get into that school.

  Judith felt the slow burn of curiosity in her belly. Once more, she lifted her phone. The worse that happens, is he doesn't answer, and I leave a message. She debated if maybe, just maybe, the worse that could happen was actually making the phone call at all. No, he didn't seem dangerous. He bought all of my art, I have enough money now to stay out here for some time. Is it crazy to want to find out how much he'd offer for a commission, if he'd agree to assisting me?

  Biting her lower lip, she inhaled deeply, typing out his number. Pressing her phone to her ear, the red-head listened to the metallic ringing, preparing herself for what she might say. She wasn't ready when, on the second ring, the line 'clicked' and someone began speaking.

  “Benedict Vance, who's calling please?”

  The voice wasn't the familiar, rich baritone of the man she'd met so briefly. This was someone else, calm and almost flat. Confused, Judith cleared her throat. “Uh, hello, I'm looking for Benedict.”

  “Of course, but may I ask who's calling?”

  She wondered if she'd imagined the tart edge to that reply. “Sorry, this is Judith Flight, he left me a message to—”

  “Oh!” That tone became suddenly very pleasant. “Yes, of course, one moment, I'll transfer you to his main line.”

  Judith felt a spark of indignation that she couldn't explain, a part of her feeling far less important than she had assumed. With the effort Benedict had made, buying everything and leaving his card, she thought he would have given her his actual phone number.

  Lorraine said he was pretty important. I guess he doesn't really know me, so...

  The line was silent, to the point that Judith wondered if she had been disconnected. Her hand moved, ready to hang up and give in to frustrated defeat. Then, he spoke, making her feel the familiar thrill of intrigue travel down her spine.

  “Hello, Ms. Flight?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, tugging her hair nervously. “I mean, yes, it's me.”

  “So you got my message, I take it.”

  “Ah, yeah, Lorraine gave it to me after the show.”

  “It was a lovely gallery, your work was beautiful.” He made a sound, she couldn't tell if it was him breathing out or chuckling. “But, on topic, she told you my offer then?”

  Judith shifted the phone to her other ear, reaching out to pick up his business card. Even with the crinkles in it from Lorraine's pocket, the printed ink was crisp, immaculate. “She sort of did. According to her, you want a commission, but...”

  “But?”

  “But, you... did you really buy all of my art, for just yourself?” she asked, the words rushing free in a whirl as the shock finally caught up to her. “All of it? I have the check from Lorraine. If this isn't a joke, I just... why do you want, or need, any more from me?”

  There was a heavy silence. Judith opened her mouth, ready to apologize for her abrupt questions. Benedict halted her with a low, throaty laugh that couldn't be confused for anything else. “Ms. Flight, slow down. Yes, I bought everything you had. Is it so wrong if I would enjoy more from you?”

  His emphasis on the word 'more' made her mouth very dry, she realized she'd started crushing the business card in her hand. Dropping it, she wiped her palm on her leg, wondering what to even say. What does he really want from me, why does he like my work so much?

  “Ms. Flight,” he said.

  “Y-yes?”

  “I can tell you're a little nervous. Please, just hear me out. I'm only offering you some work, after all, nothing more.”

  “Nothing more?”

  “What else could I offer?” he asked, and she swore she could hear the smirk over the phone.

  Swallowing, she steeled her nerves. “There is something else you could offer.”

  His silence was uncomfortable, it set her arm hairs into goosebumps. “Ah. What would you like from me, Ms. Flight?”

  “There—,” licking her lips, she started again. “There's a college I'm trying to get into. You're apparently pretty important to them. I was hoping... maybe... that you could help get me in.”

  His sigh was languid, steamy. “I see. So you don't care about the money, so much as the prestige.”

  Judith had no answer to that.

  “Let's go with that desire of yours, then. You want something, something it seems only I can give you... and I would love to have a personal art piece created by your hands.”

  Flooding with elation, Judith noticed she was nodding, even though he couldn't see it. “Oh, yes, that—”

  “But,” he cut her off, “there is a slight... twist, really.”

  Oh god, what could that be? With her heart throbbing, the young woman mumbled the shakiest words ever. “What... what twist is that?”

  “I don't want you to paint on canvas. I actually have a wall in my home, I would like you to use it for your base.”

  Crinkling the bridge of her nose, Judith parsed this information carefully. “You want me to paint inside your house?”

  “Exactly. I have a section that is utterly too bland, I think your work would look amazing there.”

  “So... I'd come to your place, and do this.” Swallowing, her pulse racing, she pressed on with her real question, “and when...”

  “When would I help you into Sun Arts?” Benedict hummed briefly. “Let's say, I'll buy you the materials, pay for your meals while you're here, send transportation, and when everything is complete I'll write a personal letter to the dean himself. Does that sound fair?”

  Judith dropped her phone, her jaw falling open as well. That was more than she imagined, it would get her into the college without a doubt. A personal letter!

  She heard a noise, and looking down, noticed her phone blinking. The distant sound was clearly Benedict. Scrambling, she picked it up and heard the tail end of his sentence, “—alright, Ms. Flight?”

  “Sorry, sorry, I uh, what was that?”

  “I asked if that was alright? If so, I can send someone to pick you up tomorrow, and we can go over the contract?”

  Judith glanced up, looking around her small apartment, eyeing the crumpled rejection letter in the corner.

  This is it, this is the break I've needed so badly.

  “Yeah,” she said with a stunned smile, “yeah, that sounds just perfect.”

  ****

  Judith had been far too excite
d to sleep well.

  When the sun started rising, she gave up and rolled out of her bed, landing gently on the hard floor. She had no idea what to expect, and ended up wandering around her small apartment debating what to bring, how to dress, and even what shoes to wear.

  He said he'd provide the supplies, I guess I don't need to bring much.

  Tugging on a pair of tight jeans, as well as a comfortable purple top that walked the line between casual and fancy, she stood by her window. Benedict had told her, before she had hung up, that he'd send a car over around nine in the morning.

  Glancing at the clock on her stove, Judith shifted uneasily and leaned on the wall. Any minute now, but how will I know what car is for me?

  As if on cue, a vehicle that was far too fancy for the area rolled slowly around the corner. It was black, and reminded her of a killer whale. She didn't know much about cars, but she was wise enough to understand that this thing, whatever it was, had to cost a fortune.

  Oh my gosh, it might as well be a limo.

  When the driver stepped out, she noted his expensive outfit matched the car perfectly. He turned his shiny sunglasses up towards her window, so she ducked out of sight, wincing.

  This was too much. She felt out of her element, and she hadn't even gotten in the car yet.

  Her phone buzzed, a text from a number she didn't recognize. It read 'your car has arrived, please go outside.'

  Frowning, Judith tucked her cell into her purse, hoisting it uneasily. Wandering down her steps, she caught one of her neighbors staring at her from their window. Blushing wildly, she quickened her pace. Wonderful, I'll be the talk of the town.

  Stepping into the early sunlight, she covered her eyes as the car glinted, blinding her. The driver waved, opening the back door as she approached. “Ms. Flight, after you,” the well dressed man said. She recognized his voice, he had answered the phone last night when she first tried to call Benedict.