Framed and Hung

by Alexis Fleming

  Zoe and Jake shared a smile and then set about getting dressed. Before Jake walked her back to the inn, he turned her towards him and clasped her cheeks in his hands.

  ‘I’ll be back late tomorrow. Are you still going to be here? Or are you going to do a bolt while I’m gone?’

  Zoe grinned at him. ‘Oh, I’ll be here, if only to serve one up to that old man. No way is a ghost going to get the better of me.’

  She walked away from him, heading towards the inn. Jake’s gaze was fixated on the curve of the cheeks of her arse that peeped below the edge of her shorts. His blood caught fire again and testosterone surged.

  Holy crap, he had it bad.

  ‘And one other thing?’ Zoe paused about eight feet away from him, casting a wicked grin over her shoulder.

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘I plan on screwing the hell out of you until I make you lose control first.’ Then she turned and sauntered off.

  ‘And I’ll let you,’ he murmured to her parting back, a huge grin on his face.

  * * *

  Zoe wiped a hand across her forehead and then threw the sketching pencil on the table. Pushing back the chair, she stood and stretched, easing the kinks out of her back. Her stomach rumbled, making her realise how long she’d been working.

  ‘Hey, you, I’m getting hungry. I didn’t have any morning tea. You finished in there?’

  Zoe jumped as Rachel stuck her head around the door. ‘Bloody hell, girl, you scared the crap out of me.’

  ‘Well, I’m not going to apologise. I’m starving and it’s already 12:30. What do you fancy for lunch?’ Rachel sidled into the room and stared at the series of sketches laid out on the table. ‘Hey, these are pretty good. Not like the old portraits in the Garden Room, but pretty fantastic regardless.’

  Zoe leaned over the sketches. ‘Yeah, Jake’s an easy subject. They didn’t turn out too bad at all.’

  ‘Particularly this one.’ Rachel pulled out a drawing from the bottom of the pile and waved it at Zoe, a big grin on her face.

  Heat washed up over Zoe’s face and she snatched the sheet of paper from her friend and turned it face down on the table. She didn’t need to look at it to know which one it was. It hadn’t been copied from a photo. It was an image imprinted on her memory.

  Jake Lord spread-eagled on the soft green moss. One raised knee hid his family jewels from view, but the rest of him was gloriously naked. His head was propped up on one bent arm and an intriguing smile curved his lips.

  No way was anyone meant to see this sketch. It was private, something Zoe would hang on to for a long while to come.

  In an effort to divert Rachel, she picked up a sketch of Jake showing him from mid chest up. He was leaning back against the weeping willow tree, shirt open at the neck and his hair ruffled. Once again a mysterious smile graced his lips.

  ‘What do you reckon about this one? I’m thinking of using it for the portrait.’

  ‘Bit different from the ones already hanging in the Garden Room, isn’t it?’

  ‘Definitely. That’s what Jake wanted. Something a bit less formal. If I do it in the same sepia tones as the other portraits, I think it will fit right in and Jessie will be happy.’

  Rachel nodded. ‘Yep, I think you’re right. For Jessie, it’s not about whether Jake’s portrait matches the others. It’s all about family, and Jake is next in line to be immortalised.’

  She took the sketch from Zoe and flipped it onto the table. Then she grabbed Zoe’s purse and hustled her towards the door. ‘On that note, let’s get out of here. I’m starving. I thought we could go to the pub for a counter meal. What do you reckon?’

  Zoe’s stomach grumbled right on cue. ‘Sounds good,’ she said with a grin. ‘I didn’t realise how late it was. Lead on, my friend.’

  Zoe was happy to let Rachel take the reins and drive them the short distance to the pub. The restaurant area was quite full, but Zoe spotted a couple of spare booths on the far side. The women slipped into the second last one, their backs to the occupants of the next booth. Zoe really didn’t take too much notice, but her brain registered that it was two men sitting behind them. Given her issues with always remaining in control, she’d have to warn Rachel to keep her voice down. She had a problem with others knowing her business.

  Once they’d ordered their meal, Zoe and Rachel sat nursing a glass of white wine and nibbling on peanuts while they waited. Zoe started counting under her breath. One…two…three…

  ‘So what happened with you and Jake?’ Rachel nudged her in the ribs. ‘And don’t tell me nothing did. I’m not blind. Girlfriend, you’re glowing.’

  ‘Hah, knew you wouldn’t be able to wait longer than three seconds.’ She chuckled. ‘You are so predictable.’

  ‘So, give!’

  Zoe’s heart started to race as soon as she thought about her interlude in the garden with Jake. Her emotions seesawed from fear of not being in control to excitement at where this could lead. She couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. Oh yeah, baby, bring it on. Life is about to get interesting.

  Rachel slapped her on the arm. ‘You’re not going to tell me a darn thing, are you?’

  Her grin widened. ‘No.’

  ‘Alright, I can appreciate that, but tell me this. Are you going to give Jake a chance? Or are you going to cut off your nose to spite your face, as the old cliché goes?’

  Zoe opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, she heard her name mentioned behind her. She looked over her shoulder. All she could see was the back of the heads of the two men, not enough to identify them. But she sure recognised that voice.

  She held one finger to her mouth to keep Rachel quiet and continued to listen to the conversation.

  ‘So you and the delightful Zoe are getting it on, are you?’

  Jake had mentioned he was meeting one of his brothers before he caught his plane to Sydney. That’s who this must be.

  ‘None of your business, little brother,’ Jake answered.

  So it was Simon, the youngest brother. Why did he want to know about her?

  ‘Well if you’re not going to tell me all the nitty gritty details, then at least tell me what you’re doing about your portrait,’ Simon said. ‘Mum’s already getting on my back to start thinking about who’s going to do mine.’

  ‘Zoe’s doing mine,’ Jake mumbled.

  ‘Sorry? Did you say Zoe? But she’s a house painter.’

  Zoe wanted to get up and confront Simon. Or maybe just reach over and conk him on the head. Damn it, she was more than a house painter. She was a restoration expert in her own right.

  She cast a quick glance at Rachel to see her friend gritting her teeth and scowling at the timber division between the booths.

  Zoe dragged her attention back to the conversation to hear what Jake’s response was.

  ‘I…ah, I feel like a bastard, but I asked Zoe on purpose. She said she’s only done a couple of portraits so I figured she’s not very good at it. In fact, I’m thinking she’ll screw it up. At least, I’m hoping.’

  Simon burst out laughing. ‘You crafty old bugger. When Mum sees how bad it is, she won’t hang it. That’s priceless.’

  Zoe had heard enough. Fury flipped through her system until it felt as if her blood was boiling. She clamped her lips together so she wouldn’t say anything and grabbing her purse, slid a few notes onto the table — for the lunch they were never going to have. She couldn’t stay here one minute longer or she’d lose it.

  Gesturing to Rachel to follow her, she slid from the booth and keeping her head down, got the hell out of the restaurant. She managed to keep her mouth shut until they got to Rachel’s van, then she lost it.

  ‘How dare he! That lousy, rotten bastard. I’d like to thump the shit out of him.’ She smacked the side of the van, oblivious to Rachel’s squawk. ‘The bastard set me up to fail. He wants a portrait? I’ll give him one he’ll never forget.’

  Chapter Nine

  ‘Thinks I’ll fuc
k it up, does he?’ Zoe slammed a small tin of black paint onto the bench and then went after a couple of paintbrushes.

  ‘Um, that’s actually not what he said. He said he wanted you to screw — ’

  Zoe cut through Rachel’s comment. ‘I know exactly what he said.’

  ‘So what are you going to do?’

  She grinned, well aware it was all teeth and not a lot of humour. ‘Oh, I’m going to give him exactly what he asked for. I may not be the most fantastic portrait painter, but there is something I’m very good at.’

  ‘You don’t mean…’ Rachel suddenly burst out laughing. ‘Oh this is going to be good. You going to leave it up until Jake gets home?’

  ‘We’ll see. Depends if I’m still pissed off when I finish.’

  Paint can and brushes in hand, Zoe marched around to the front of the inn and the six-foot billboard that still stood there. She hadn’t got around to moving it. Now she was glad. It was perfect for her needs.

  Rachel stood off to one side, watching her, until Zoe pulled a sheet of paper from the back pocket of her shorts. Then she peered over Zoe’s shoulder, hand going to her mouth to cover her laughter when saw what — or who — was depicted there.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she spluttered. ‘Who the hell is that?’

  ‘Google is my friend,’ Zoe replied.

  ‘You downloaded it off the internet?’

  ‘Yep, meet Lance, the flavour of the month as far as porn stars go.’ She chuckled. ‘Bit scrawny, isn’t he? All his muscles must be in his penis.’

  Her model, for want of a better word, rested back on a mound of pillows and a leopard-patterned blanket. He wasn’t bad-looking, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t intend on using his head. His body, long and thin, had no real muscle definition. He’d drawn one leg up to cover what was so obviously an erect penis clasped in the hand buried between his legs.

  Rachel tilted her head sideways as if to get a look at what was partially hidden behind the bent leg. ‘You know what? That has to be one hell of a trouser snake. If you measure the distance from the juncture of his thighs, take in the thickness of his leg, you can still see the head sticking out of his hand. What he loses in width, he sure makes up for in length.’

  Zoe stared at the picture, her forehead furrowed. Rachel was correct. The flared head of his penis, foreskin pulled back, was clearly visible. She shrugged, a grin slipping across her face. ‘It’s not the size that tantalises. It’s how the man in question wields his weapon.’

  She burst out laughing at her comment, Rachel joining her. When they’d finally calmed down and caught their breath, Rachel turned to her. ‘You really are going to do this?’

  ‘Damn right!’

  She wiped the dust from the billboard with a rag and then popped the lid on the pot of black paint with a screwdriver. With a length of charcoal she sketched in the body of dear old Lance. From memory, she replaced his head and face with Jake’s.

  After that, she set to work with a series of brushes and the black paint, marking in the outline before filling in shadows and depths, lightness and ludicrous features.

  That done, she stepped back, jammed the lid on the paint, and examined her drawing. Given it was a caricature, she’d emphasised certain parts of the anatomy. The penis was definitely a snake now, the head peeking over the thigh. She’d given him muscles, but highly inflated and oversized on his arms and legs.

  She concentrated on the face, a gurgle of laughter escaping at the image that confronted her. No one seeing the painting would doubt it was the great Jake Lord, staid family banker, but that’s where any real likeness to Jake’s actual character and looks stopped.

  His nose was immense, a hooked beak that dominated the face. Eyebrows, thick and unruly, pulled down into a vee between his eyes, causing a deep frown to mar his forehead. The eyes were small and beady, the ears flapping off the side of his head like open car doors. But the best feature was Jake’s lips — highly inflated as if he’d indulged in a session of Botox, and pursed in a kiss.

  Throwing the paintbrush down, Zoe leaned against Rachel, the laughter bubbling up from her belly. She was so convulsed she wouldn’t have been able to stand up on her own if she’d tried.

  Her ribs ached when she finally calmed down. She shook her head as she wiped her hands on the back of her shorts. She was still annoyed as hell at Jake — he should have been honest with her — but she no longer wanted to skin him alive. Painting of any description had always had a way of settling her. Now it was time to get rid of the evidence of her fit of pique.

  She picked up the brush, ready to paint over Jake’s portrait, but before she could do anything, horns hooted on the road behind her. She jumped and spun about. Three cars were parked on the verge only a few feet from the billboard. More vehicles toured past, slowing and hooting at Jake’s portrait.

  Zoe’s mouth dropped. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘What have I done?’ She hadn’t given any thought to how this would affect Jake’s standing in the community. She’d been so focussed on her own anger and hurt, she’d forgotten everything else.

  A crowd had gathered on the footpath. Even a tourist bus stopped and unloaded its passengers so they could gawk at the billboard. Zoe grabbed the paint can, ready to throw it at the board to cover the image. Before she even got the lid off again, someone spoke right behind her.

  ‘Well, that’s certainly different. Not quite what I had in mind when I told my son to get his portrait done.’

  Zoe’s heart dropped. Oh, hell, how do you explain to a guy’s mother that you’ve just trashed her son’s reputation?

  ‘I’m so sorry, Jessie. I didn’t mean…I wasn’t — ’

  Jessie waddled up to Zoe and tucked her arm around Zoe’s waist. ‘Hush, dear girl, it’s okay. Knowing my son, I’m assuming he did something to seriously piss you off.’

  Zoe swallowed the flash of humour at Jessie’s use of schoolyard vernacular. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I was angry at him, but I didn’t mean for this to happen.’ With a grimace, she indicated the crowd congregated on the footpath.

  Jessie waved a negligent hand over her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about them. Most of them are tourists. Oh, a few might be locals and give Jake a bit of curry about it, but that’s okay. The boy needs to learn to laugh at himself a bit. He’s way too serious.’

  Zoe suddenly noticed the group of women who’d arrived with Jessie. She blinked, her mouth agape as they crowded closer to the billboard. Talk about the blue-haired brigade.

  The women, all around Jessie’s age, had lovely, soft-looking hair. And each of them had tinted it blue just like Jessie’s. Various shades, from bright cobalt to the palest sky blue. Um…wow!

  Jessie moved to introduce them. ‘Zoe and Rachel, I’d like you to meet my friends from the gardening club.’

  ‘No, Jessie, today we’re the sewing club,’ interrupted a rather large woman who’d pushed her way to the front of the group.

  Jessie chuckled. ‘Doesn’t really matter what we call ourselves, we’re friends. We only started with the name business so our husbands would think we had a legitimate excuse for being away from the home. Our menfolk were more of the keep ‘em barefoot and pregnant and tied to the stove variety. Not like the men today. They’re all gone now — the husbands, that is — but we still stick with the names out of habit.’

  Zoe shook her head, trying to follow Jessie’s conversation. She glanced at Rachel to catch a grin flitting across her face.

  ‘Now, the introductions,’ Jessie said. ‘This here is Martha, Janie, Ester, Emma, and this pushy broad at the front is Maisie. Who also happens to be the mayor’s wife and a person of importance in our little town.’

  Maisie snorted, her gaze trained on the painting. ‘Hah, I just let everyone think I’m important so I can get away with being outrageous.’ She paused, head tilted on the side. ‘You know, this guy looks like he’s got a fire hose for a pecker. Wonder how he packs it away in his jeans. Jessie, you sure breed ‘em big in your family
.’

  Zoe couldn’t hold it in any longer. She burst out laughing. Rachel hung onto the side of the billboard and joined her.

  ‘Oh, no, that’s not Jake,’ Jessie responded. ‘It might be Jake’s face, but I’m sure that’s not his body. I mean, the Lord men are well hung, but this is a little over the top. And where’s his tattoo?’

  A splutter of laughter erupted from Zoe’s mouth. Tears of mirth rolled down her face. Oh my God, Jessie was priceless. You never quite knew what she’d come out with next.

  Wiping her eyes on the back of her hands, she gave the old lady a grin. ‘Sprung! This is Lance, porn star extraordinaire. I found him on the internet. And how do you know about Jake’s tattoo? I really can’t see him showing it to you.’

  ‘Those boys of mine think I’m just an old woman who knows nothing.’ She grinned. ‘I overheard the others teasing Jake about it, but don’t tell him I know. We have to let the menfolk have their little secrets.’

  ‘Hey,’ Maisie interrupted. ‘You think that hose-like appendage is real? It looks damn dangerous to me. If a lady wasn’t careful, she could have that thing coming up out of her mouth it’s so long.’

  That was enough to start Zoe off again. Her ribs ached so badly from laughing she had to wrap her arms about her waist.

  ‘Oooh, Maisie, you are such a bad girl,’ one of the other women said. ‘But I must admit, I think you’re right. I can’t imagine doing a blow job on that. A person could end up choking.’

  Before Zoe lost it again, Jessie drew her aside, Rachel trailing after. ‘So what did that boy of mine do, Zoe?’

  ‘He… Ah, it was nothing, really. Just something between the two of us.’ Zoe was not about to become a tattletale. Particularly with Jake’s mum. What a way to piss a guy off.

  ‘Well, if you’re not going to tell her, I am,’ Rachel said. ‘What Jake did was mean and hurtful.’