by Wendy Owens
“All right, but you have to buy my supplies,” I agreed at last.
“Deal!” Colin exclaimed, clearly as excited as I was, not that he could tell from my reaction. I flashed a half smile, then thanked him for the use of the space. I could not have imagined a better studio space. On the far side of the room I had already spotted light coming in from a couple of street-facing windows. I could imagine where I would set up my table and perhaps a small area to sit.
“I’ll leave you to it then. I’ll have the supplies delivered to your workspace, and just let me know what you need when you get a chance.” Colin pulled the lever, triggering the return of the lift. “Oh, and I’ll have Christian drop a key off to you later. Let either of us know if you need anything else.”
“I will, thank you,” I said nodding my head.
I smiled as I watched him lower down into the darkness, waiting until he was completely out of sight before breaking out into a wild and gleeful dance. Twirling across the space, it felt like my heart might burst. I was in New York, living in an apartment, with an art studio, and now I had been commissioned to create paintings. Even if it was temporary, it was still one of the most amazing experiences I had ever had.
It was hard to believe that I’d only been living with Paige for a couple of weeks. My life had changed so much in such a short period of time; it often felt like I was living out someone else’s reality. I was used to an existence where most of my thoughts were somehow consumed with guilt. The pain came every morning when I woke up. I wanted this new world to be real more than anything, to know the things I touched were actually part of my life.
Besides the occasional annoying call from Stryker, which I would never pick up, my days were full of excitement. I found out that each student in my studio painting class was expected to prepare a show over the semester. After we submitted our portfolios the professor will choose a few students to show at a gallery in town. While many spots were to show your work on campus there were a few bigger gallery spots being reserved for an elite selection of students. I was determined to be one of those chosen for this privilege.
I spent that first night in the studio space painting, losing all track of time. I only managed to eke out a few hours of sleep. Tuesday went much like Monday, and I was starting to wonder if I would be able to find any time for sleeping, but apparently my body decided three days was my limit of sleepless abuse. I had crawled into bed Wednesday night—well, I suppose it was Thursday morning actually—for my small amount of sleep, and before I knew it, I woke up… just before noon. I panicked, realizing I had missed most of my classes for the day.
Once I had a little coffee and food I was much calmer about the situation. I probably shouldn’t have felt that way, but I was rather excited I got the entire day to paint in my amazing studio. In no way would I ever admit this to Colin because I could just imagine his smug expression of satisfaction. I had half expected him to show up every day, checking up on me. Much to my surprise, I hadn’t seen him since the night he made me the job offer. When I arrived Tuesday, the canvas I needed for his pieces was waiting for me. No note—they were simply leaning up against the wall in the area I had been working.
Bounding down the stairs, even I had to admit I noticed there was an extra skip in my step. When I was younger it was like I had a soundtrack to my life, playing in my head, but I had lost that rhythm so long ago, it was hard to remember it. It was coming back to me, and I often found myself smiling while I walked, humming a tune only I could hear.
Pulling the lift gate closed behind me I made my way over to my work area. The flowers I had placed in a mason jar by the window on Monday were already starting to droop. Plucking one of the few unwilted daisies from the collection I secured it behind my ear. Shoving my iPhone onto the docking station I gleefully pressed play on my favorite Pandora station I had lovingly entitled “folksy.” Of Monsters and Men began echoing throughout the vast space.
Picking up my brush, I proceeded to turn the music up as high as it would go. With one sweep of the brush, and then another, I was there, in the moment, blissfully happy with what I was doing. A joy, so intense it made my heart ache as it filled me up.
My body gave way to the feelings, my full hips swaying from side to side. I raised my arms above my head and began to sing as if I were alone in the shower. Bringing one arm down with a tremendous swipe at the canvas, then another, a fluid dance enveloped me.
I didn’t notice the world around me; it was simply the art, the music, and me. At least until the song ended. Much to my surprise the momentary silence between songs gave way to the loud applause of an onlooker. I spun around, clutching my paint covered brush to my chest. Colin stood, leaning against a concrete column, and from the smirk he was perfectly wearing, I was certain he had seen the entire display. Though I was mortified, he was clearly quite satisfied with what he had witnessed.
Even though I wanted to march over and punch him in the chest, wiping that smug grin off his face, I refused to give him the satisfaction. Instead, I somehow managed to muster up a laugh… better to join him, I suppose. I rushed over, pausing my playlist.
“Nice moves,” he said, standing upright.
“Why thank you,” I replied, avoiding direct eye contact.
“No, really I mean it. I particularly enjoyed the rotating hip action you had going there. Very spicy.”
“Is there something you needed?” I questioned, eager to stop his taunting as well as to return to my painting. Damn, I did it. I made eye contact. The steely gray of them always managed to lock me in.
“Oh yeah, sorry. I guess you had me all hot and bothered by your dance moves. The reason for my visit nearly slipped my mind.” Colin’s suggestive tone sent a chill down my spine. Turning around and taking a few steps toward the lift he yelled, “Bring it in, boys.”
With that, the entire floor became a bustling hive. Half a dozen men were scurrying about as I stood there speechless, watching the scene unfold before me, helpless.
“Over by that window—that’s where she likes to work,” Colin bellowed.
“What is going on?” I finally managed to ask, staring at him, my jaw still agape.
Two burly men made their way past me muttering a pardon and excuse me. They carried a deep red velvet couch with ornate dark colored wood to the area where two other men had just unrolled an oversized black carpet. The remaining workers brought in what appeared to be floodlights, making quick work of running the power cords.
“I know you’ve been working really hard and had some late nights, so I thought I would make the place a little more comfortable for you. It seemed like the least I could do,” Colin explained.
“And somehow you thought I would be comfortable in a place decorated like the littlest whore house in Texas?” I asked, staring at the set up in disbelief. The entire incident was absurd; this couldn’t be happening.
Looking back at Colin, he seemed to be ignoring my comments as he slipped some cash into one of the men’s oversized hands.
“Did you hear me? They need to take it all back,” I commanded.
But no one was listening, and the men were loaded into the lift before the words made their way completely out of my mouth, leaving just Colin and me standing there, surrounded by some of the tackiest furniture I might have ever seen.
“I don’t think it’s that bad, just give it a try. I thought it was actually quite comfortable,” Colin pleaded, walking over to the sofa.
“Do you understand what I do here? First of all, this stuff will just end up with paint all over it. It makes no sense. You make no sense. I mean seriously, what were you thinking?” I scolded. I was there, using that space because I wanted to paint, not entertain guests.
“Hear me out,” Colin began, lowering his head as if he were trying to avoid direct eye contact with a wild animal. “I know you’ve been here late the last few nights—”
“And how do you know that? Are you spying on me? Be
cause if you are I don’t think this is going to work. I mean it, I won’t put up with your shit,” I snapped, surprising even myself with my reaction.
“Dear God, woman! Calm the hell down.” Colin no longer bowed his head; instead, he had taken a couple steps toward me, his face only inches from mine. “Will you listen for a minute? I’m usually up late working downstairs. I can hear the lift when you leave, so sorry to burst your bubble, but no, I’m not stalking you. I have better things to do with my time. As for the furniture, yes I know what you do here, but this stuff is from a salvage job my crew did on a building I bought. It may not be fashionable, but it was clean, looked comfortable, and I didn’t care if you covered it in paint since I can’t really use it for staging. Sorry if the style isn’t to your liking, but I was just trying to do something nice.”
I wondered if I would ever be able to unhinge my jaw far enough to pull my foot out. What was I thinking? Perhaps that he was bringing a couch in so that he could ravage me. He had no such intentions; he was simply being a nice guy, and I tore into him like some mad woman. Looking over my shoulder I considered making a run for the exit, but then decided it would be pointless.
“Colin, I’m so sorry.”
“Look, I can keep my distance if that’s what you want,” Colin offered, taking a few steps toward the lift.
“No, wait, please!” I exclaimed. What was I doing? He thought I was a crazy bitch; this was the perfect way to eliminate a possible distraction from my life… if I could just keep my mouth shut.
Colin turned and looked at me, raising an eyebrow, waiting for me to say something that would change his mind.
“Don’t go. I completely overreacted. Can we start over?” And there it was—I took my chance of getting rid of this gorgeous guy and completely threw it out the window.
He glared at me, as if he were trying to figure me out. I could have told him that was useless, because hell, I didn’t even know what I was doing half the time. “Only if you try the couch out?”
I watched as Colin ran to where the parlor style sofa sat. He leaped over the back with both legs and landed at one end with a bounce. I couldn’t help but laugh. Sometimes he seemed so full of life, I envied him. “You’re crazy!”
Patting the area next to him, he beckoned me over, “Come on, if you want to make nice, you have to try it out.”
With a deep breath I walked over to the sofa, making my way around the opposite end, slowly taking a seat. He watched intensely, waiting for my response. I looked at him seriously, determined not to give him any indication of my opinion.
“Well?” he begged.
I collapsed backward, throwing my arms out to my side. “All right, fine! I’ll admit it, the whore house couch is the most damn comfortable piece of furniture I have ever sat on.”
“I told you!” he exclaimed, falling back, and we both laughed.
When a silence settled over us, I stretched out a bare toe and used it to restart the previously paused music, adjusting the volume with the same big toe.
“That might be a marketable skill,” Colin noted, impressed.
“What?”
“The foot thing,” he said.
“Oh,” I laughed for a moment. “That’s nothing, I can also pick things up with my feet.”
“I knew something was different about you the moment I saw you… now I finally know what it was.”
“You got me,” I confessed. “I used to travel with a circus, but after things ended poorly with me and the bearded lady I was forced to find refuge elsewhere.”
“Sometimes love can be tough,” Colin offered with a slight grin. It was weird, even though I thought he was disgusting when it came to women, I was very comfortable with him.
“I don’t blame her… it was tough after she caught me with the fat lady,” I pushed, wondering how far I could take it before he ceased to see the humor.
“It’s all right, we all need a little chunk now and then. You know what they say, more cushion for the pushin’.” I wondered how he managed to say it with a completely serious look on his face. Leaning across the couch I shoved him in the chest, bursting out into a deep laughter.
“You’re not right!” I exclaimed.
“Hey, you started it,” he defended himself, waving his arms in front of him, attempting to call a truce on the physical assault.
“Seriously, though, this was really sweet of you. I’m sorry I wigged out. You didn’t have to do this.”
“I thought if I made this place comfortable enough, maybe you would stay here all night and actually paint some stuff for me.” I appreciated the way he tried to lighten the awkwardness of the moment.
“Oh, is that right?”
“Yeah, so when are you going to work on my stuff?” Colin asked, his sarcasm evident in his tone.
“Maybe by Christmas.” I grinned.
His face shifted momentarily, clearly surprised by my answer. “What?”
“I’m kidding. Now who needs to lighten up?”
He smiled. “All right, you got me.”
“I have some ideas, so I should be able to show you some early stage pieces by next week. Will that work for you?”
“Yeah, that would be awesome.”
We both sat quietly as a Bon Iver song began to play in the background. I stared at my class project, briefly looking over at Colin, who I noticed was also gazing at the work.
“You know, I don’t normally let people see my work in progress. I might have to kill you now.”
Colin didn’t laugh at my snarky remark. Instead, he continued to look at the piece. He stood, examining the strokes more closely. I suddenly felt very self-conscious, as if I were naked on an exam table.
“Is there something wrong?” I searched, no longer able to stand the silence between us.
“Huh?” Colin huffed over his shoulder.
“Is there something wrong with the painting?” I asked again, standing and moving next to him.
“Oh, no, not at all. Sorry, I was just looking at it,” Colin replied, not taking his eyes off the piece.
“You hate it, don’t you?” I asked, already sure of what he was thinking.
“No, I just see something different in this one than in your other work I saw online,” Colin explained.
“Like what?”
“Oh, nothing,” he said, turning to walk away.
I grabbed his arm, spinning him back around. He was crazy if he thought I would let him leave after that kind of statement. “I don’t think so, buddy. You can’t say something like that and walk away. Spill it. I can take it.”
I could see his hesitation, and it made me even more anxious. This was why I didn’t want people to see my work before it was ready. “Your work, it’s different.”
“What do you mean? Different than what?” I pushed, even though I was unsure I wanted to hear the answer.
“When I saw your work online, I don’t know, there was a sadness to it. This one is different, though. There’s so much vibrancy and movement. It’s—it’s different.”
“I can’t tell if you think that’s a good or bad thing,” I said giving him a slight playful shove in the arm.
“No, don’t get me wrong, I like it. It’s beautiful, actually.”
“Don’t sound so surprised,” I jested, my insides smiling secretly from his praises.
“All right, all right,” he said laughing and stumbling closer to the lift. “Clearly you’re determined to give me a hard time, so I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Yeah, you do that,” I called out after him, not moving from the spot where I stood.
“Oh yeah, you’re coming this weekend, right?” he asked as the gate hovered above his extended arm.
“This weekend?”
“Half Kings? Don’t tell me Paige forgot to tell you.”
I didn’t know what to say. I simply assumed Paige had exaggerated when she said Colin wanted me to come. “No, sh
e told me. I’m just really busy with school.”
“Nonsense, I want you to be there, so you’re coming.” Before I could respond, the gate was closed, and the lift had begun to move. I wasn’t sure why he wanted me to go so badly, but even more so I couldn’t figure out why I wanted to go now.
Paige ground the chips between her teeth so loudly I could hear it over the music. Looking over my shoulder I stared at her for a moment. I wasn’t sure how this small, frail being could possibly consume as many calories as she did in any given day and yet remain so petite. It was starting to annoy me, because all I could think about was grabbing that bag of black pepper and sea salt kettle chips from her delicate little hands and stuffing my face with them. I knew for me, however, it would mean not being able to button my jeans for the next week if I even stared too long at the delicious treat.
“You know, you can wait for me at the apartment. I won’t be that much longer,” I offered, more for my own sanity than hers.
“Yeah right,” she mumbled with bits of chip flying from her mouth, finding their way into the fibers of the black carpet. “You said that like an hour ago. If I leave you here, you will never go tonight.”
“What does it matter if I go?” I asked, unsure of why my presence was so important.
“Colin asked me to bring you, and I promised him I would,” Paige explained, shrugging her shoulders as if to say she were simply the innocent messenger.
“I don’t get it. Why does Colin care so much if I go?” I investigated, not wanting to let on that I missed seeing him. It had been two days since he brought me the furniture. I had considered, on several occasions, making an excuse to stop in at his loft.
“I don’t know—” Paige replied, her eyes suddenly widening.
“What is it?”
“Oh my God, you like him, don’t you?” She gasped. How on earth could she sense such a thing from what I had said? Not that I did like him…
“What? Are you crazy?”
“No, you are. You’ve got it bad for him.”