by Mike Faricy
“Works for me,” I said. “Taylor, you got anything going.”
He shook his head.
“We’ll be there with bells on. What can we bring?”
“Just yourselves,” she said and crossed the street to her car. We headed toward my car, and Taylor saw the ‘OINK’ spray-painted along the side.
“When did that happen?” he said.
“Oh, earlier today. Another long story,” I said as a distant roar came down the street toward us. About a dozen guys on motorcycles stopped and backed their bikes against the curb. They were wearing black leather vests. Two or three stared at my black and blue face. A couple of them nodded at us, and they all headed into Inkredible. Everyone sported tattoos on their arms, and God only knew where else.
“I think that’s a reminder that it’s time for us to leave.”
“They must be the appointment that Dennis was talking about,” Taylor said.
“Maybe he’ll have them look at your designs.”
We climbed in the car and headed home. Neither one of us said anything during the ten-minute drive. Morton was on the couch, looking out the window when I pulled into the driveway. He just watched as I got out of the car, but as soon as Taylor appeared, he started barking and jumping.
He met us at the front door and went for Taylor. His tail wagged and bounced off the open door. Taylor gave him a good scratch behind the ears, and Morton licked Taylor’s face. Once Morton calmed down, I said, “You want to grab a shower before we head over to Annette’s?”
“Would that be okay?”
“Yeah, if you feel like it. It’s up to you.”
“I kinda left both bags with my clothes in the back of her car.”
“Make sure we grab them tonight, and Taylor, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want. No pressure, I’d love to have you here.”
“Thanks, Dev. I’m sorry for what happened.”
“Let’s promise one another, if there’s something that’s bothering us, we’ll talk about it in the future. Okay? That goes for both of us, you and me.”
“Yeah,” he said and held out his hand to shake. He headed upstairs to his room, and I went into the kitchen. A moment later, I heard the shower running upstairs.
I couldn’t remember who, but someone had left a double-sided makeup mirror in the house. I hurried up to my bedroom, pulled the mirror out of the back of my closet, flipped it to the magnified side, and looked at my face. Not pretty. The area around my eyes was black and swollen. The whites of my eyes were bloodshot. My swollen nose was black and blue, and then there was the matter of dried blood around my nostrils.
Taylor was out of the shower a half-hour later. I got undressed and headed into the shower. I was out ten minutes later and feeling better. I dressed in black jeans and a black shirt just in case I started to bleed again.
I went down to the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of wine, and set it at the front door, so I wouldn’t forget it. I let Morton out for a bit, called upstairs to Taylor twenty minutes later, and we headed out the door to Annette’s.
“How’d that shower feel?” I asked in an attempt to start up some conversation.
“It felt fine, great actually.”
“You mind if I ask you where you went? We looked all over town, but no one had seen you.”
He gave a little laugh and said, “Well, actually, I was right behind you.”
“Behind me,” I said and glanced over at him. “What do you mean? I was driving all over town.”
“Yeah, and I was right behind your house in that backyard with the treehouse.”
“So, all that time, you were maybe fifty feet from the house?”
“Yeah, pretty much. After you came back this morning, I waited a bit until you left again. Then I went onto the front porch. I read your note, and I was waiting. Annette pulled up, and we talked for awhile. She figured if you were still looking for me, you’d maybe go to Inkredible.”
“Why didn’t you just call me?”
“I forgot my phone in my room.”
That made me laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, nothing, except it sounds like something I’d do.”
Chapter 35
We pulled into Annette’s driveway. I grabbed the bottle of wine from the back seat, and we headed for her front door. She opened the door before we were halfway there and waved.
“Hi, you two, right on time. Come on in,” she said and held the door for us as we stepped into the house. “I’ve got dinner going. Come on back to the kitchen.”
“Here, this is for you. Open it tonight or save it for another night,” I said and handed her the bottle of wine.
“Oh, thank you. I’ve got a wine open, so if you don’t mind, I’ll just put this in the rack.”
We followed her out to the kitchen. The closer we got, the better it smelled. The table was set for three, complete with a pair of candles and a view of a gorgeous backyard. Off to the left was a one-story structure, clearly not a garage and too large to be a shed where lawnmowers and snow shovels might be stored.
“Who’s that?” Taylor asked as a couple walked along the far edge of the backyard and waved.
Annette waved back and said, “Oh, they’re my neighbors. There’s a five-mile walking path back there that’s absolutely gorgeous. Maybe a mile from here, there’s a large park area, and the path weaves all through that area and then gradually circles back. It’s really lovely and very relaxing. Just the local people know about it, so it’s never crowded. Sometimes I’ve done the entire five miles and never run into anyone else. Dev, can I talk you into a glass of wine?”
“You don’t need to talk me into it. I’d love one.”
“Taylor, I’ve got root beer, orange soda, or diet Coke.”
“I’ll take the root beer,” he said. “You don’t have to get me a glass.”
She got the root beer out of the refrigerator and then poured two glasses of wine. We chatted for maybe ten minutes, and then Taylor asked her about the painting in her living room.
“Oh, well, come on out, and I’ll tell you about it.”
We walked out to the living room. I guessed I’d never noticed it on the two previous times I’d been to her house. The painting featured a weathered red barn and was in a gilt frame. The roof on the barn appeared to be tin, and in front of the barn were a half-dozen large rolls of hay.
“It’s awesome,” Taylor said.
Annette smiled. “Thank you. It’s my folk’s place. It’s where I grew up out in Western Minnesota. I painted that one summer for a college project. The memories of the place grow fonder with every year,” she laughed. “Lots of work growing up. My folks had six hundred acres. A small dairy herd, plus pigs and sheep. There was nothing but a lot of work, all day, every day.”
“Do your folks still live there?” I asked.
“No, thankfully. They’d both be dead from heart attacks. No, my brother and his family took it over maybe ten years ago. He’s got five boys, so all the work pretty much keeps them out of trouble. My folks moved into town. They spend their winters in Florida now, taking a well-deserved vacation every year.”
“I love your textured work,” Taylor said and indicated the weathered siding on the barn.
“Thanks, I’d read a book on the technique and was fortunate enough to be able to produce that over the summer. It won me a scholarship, which thrilled my father and didn’t surprise my mother. In a lot of ways, it’s the reason I was able to approach art as a business with my father’s blessing. I always say, if it wasn’t for this painting, I’d be up at 4:00 AM tomorrow morning milking cows.”
Taylor smiled at that, and a timer went off in the kitchen.
“Oh, dinner time, homemade lasagna, hope you’re hungry,” Annette said and hurried back into the kitchen. I followed right behind her while Taylor remained in the living room, studying the painting for a few more minutes.
Once Annette had dinner dished up and on the table, she called
Taylor. He came in, finishing a quick sketch in a little pocket notebook.
As he sat down, Annette asked, “Mind if I take a look?”
He passed the notebook over to her, and she studied it for a moment. “Interesting, very good. If you’d like, I have some blank canvas and paints out in my studio. You’re welcome to take them or use the studio if you would prefer.”
“Really?” he asked and then looked over at me.
“Hey, I’m not involved. You two seem to know what you’re talking about. You work it out, and I’ll adjust to whatever you decide,” I said then took a large forkful of lasagna and shoved it into my mouth.
I took my time eating while Annette and Taylor discussed painting methods and styles. I was amazed at the knowledge Taylor seemed to have. Annette kept talking as she cleared the table. She dished up three slices of apple pie, sat down, and then looked at me and said, “Have you had a chance to discuss the school with Taylor?”
Taylor looked at me and said, “School?”
“Let me preface this conversation by saying this is not an attempt to get you out of my house. I’ll say it again. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Okay?”
Taylor got a confused look on his face, but he nodded.
“Good, go ahead, Annette. You know all about this place.”
“All right, so here’s the deal…” She went on to tell him about the Art Academy. How it was a boarding school for eleventh and twelfth-grade students and that it opened the door to a number of different opportunities.
“On top of that, based on just the little bit of work I’ve seen you create, namely the images for Dennis, I think you would be a natural, and I firmly believe that, if you’re interested, we could get you a full-ride scholarship.”
“And this is a boarding school?”
“Yes, you’d live there year-round, study primarily art but also standard high school subjects. You would graduate with a certified high school diploma but, in addition, you would be on the fast track for a number of colleges. In fact, if you work and apply yourself, the colleges will seek you out.”
“Do you think I could get into the place?”
“I know you could, and with my recommendation and the recommendation of two other people I’ve already talked to, yes. I don’t think you’d have a problem. What we would need would be samples of your work.”
“What do you think, Dev?”
“I think you should take a look at it and you decide. If you want to do it, I’m behind you. Either way, I support you a hundred percent.”
That brought a smile to his face.
“After dinner, let me take you out to my studio. You can take a look around. I’ll give you a couple of canvases and some oils. You decide if you want to work in the studio or at Dev’s house. Is that okay with both of you?” she asked.
Taylor nodded excitedly, and I said, “Whatever Taylor decides.”
Chapter 36
We waited for Taylor to finish a second piece of apple pie before we cleared the dishes, and Annette loaded the dishwasher. She poured another glass of wine for both of us, and we chatted for a bit before heading out to her studio. She unlocked the door and turned off the alarm as we stepped inside.
There was a large room with a poured concrete floor and glass paneling over about a third of the roof. A wooden easel was positioned beneath the glass panels. A blank canvas rested on the easel. A small table with wheels was next to the easel with all sorts of paint tubes, two palettes, a can of turpentine, brushes, and a stack of rags.
“This is where I work,” Annette said. “The problem is that, I’m so busy with my day job, I don’t have the time to do what I love.”
“That’s life, isn’t it?” I said.
Taylor was looking over toward the far wall where a light booth was positioned. The lights were off in the booth, but the six paintings I’d gotten from Eli Cummings apartment, three landscapes and three portrait paintings, were lined up in the booth. I’d completely forgotten I’d given them to Annette to examine.
“Where did you get those?” Taylor asked Annette as he walked over to the booth.
“Actually, I gave them to her. I got them from Eli’s landlord. They were in the apartment, and he—”
“Yeah, I know they were there. I painted them.”
“You painted them? I just presumed your uncle did.”
“No, he did one of each, and I liked them so much I did these. At first, he was pretty mad because he’d treated the canvas and the frames to look old. Once he saw the paintings, he pretty much dialed down.”
“You did them?” Annette asked. “Taylor, the work is really good. I don’t mean to question you, but are you sure these are the ones you created?”
“Oh, yeah, if you check them out, I used a Hansa yellow pigment and acrylic paint. My uncle said that could be detected.”
Annette had a shocked look on her face. “Really, Taylor? I mean all the work on these—”
“Oh yeah, honest. I worked long and hard on them. The few times my uncle got his act together, he could be a demanding instructor. Tell you what. If you could give me maybe sixty minutes, I could do a rough up for you. It’s kind of like having to memorize a speech or a poem. You never forget what you did.”
“Actually, I would be very interested in that. Dev, are you on any type of schedule?”
“No, I’ve got all night if you want,” I said and raised my eyebrows.
Annette shook her head and said, “Taylor, would you mind if I look over your shoulder?”
“No, not at all.”
“Let me do my part and refill our wine glasses,” I said. “Taylor, you want another root beer?”
“No, thanks, Dev, I’d better cut back on the sugar intake for a bit.”
“Let me run into the laundry room. I’ll grab a smock for you,” Annette said and hurried back into the house.
Taylor took one of the paintings and set it on the table with all the tubes of paint.
“You okay doing this?” I asked.
“Yeah, not a problem. But are you okay with me doing this?”
“Absolutely, Taylor, you never cease to amaze me.”
Annette was back with a white smock a moment later. Taylor pulled off his shirt, slipped the smock on, and said something technical to Annette that went right over my head. I grabbed both wine glasses and went into the house. I filled the wine glasses, ate a thin slice of apple pie, and went back out to the studio.
Taylor was mixing up a paint concoction on the wooden palate and explaining to Annette what he was doing. Annette took the wine glass from me and said, “Thanks,” without even looking at me. They may as well have been speaking Latin, for all I could understand. After the better part of thirty minutes, I made up some bogus excuse and headed back into the house. I settled into a comfortable leather recliner in her den and turned on the TV.
The smell of bacon woke me in the morning. I moved the recliner into the upright position and blinked a half-dozen times. Taylor was snoring softly on the couch as I tiptoed out and into the kitchen.
“Hey, good morning.”
Annette had her back to me, standing at the stove. She jumped at the sound of my voice. “Oh, Dev, I didn’t expect you up for another hour. Can I interest you in a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, please.”
She filled a cup and slid it across the kitchen counter.
“What time did you two finish things up last night?”
“Late. Very late,” she said.
“You learn anything?”
“Oh, Dev, the talent Taylor has is nothing short of amazing. He worked for maybe two hours on the landscape. God, it felt like two minutes watching his technique, just incredible. There’s no doubt in my mind that he created every one of those paintings out there. He has to go to the Art Academy. I could tell he loved what he was doing.”
“He’s that good?”
“The term ‘good’ doesn’t do him justice. I’ve sent text messages to my frien
ds. One of them is on the board of the Art Academy. Hopefully, they can come over this afternoon. I’d like them to see Taylor’s work and maybe meet him. Would you mind if he stays here today? I’ve got two bags of new clothes that he left in my car. He can get cleaned up, meet these women, and we could have him enrolled in a week or two if everything works.”
“Really?”
“Dev, the talent he has is amazing. Talk about a natural. Seriously, it’s the chance of a lifetime for him. He deserves a break.”
“Amen to that. It works for me if you’re okay with it and if it’s what Taylor wants to do.”
“Good. My thought is we let him sleep in. I’ll dish up your breakfast in just a minute, and we’ll see how things go this afternoon. Hopefully, the women won’t have a conflict.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I said and pulled out a kitchen stool and sat down. Annette handed me a placemat and some silverware, topped up my cup of coffee, and dished up a breakfast plate for me.
“You’re not having any?” I asked.
“I thought I might wait for Taylor.”
I glanced at the clock on the stove. It was a few minutes after seven. “You might be waiting until noon.”
She seemed to think about that and then placed two pieces of bread in the toaster, apparently some form of a compromise.
I finished my eggs and bacon and had another cup of coffee. “Something comes to mind on this school option,” I said.
“That’s not sounding too positive.”
“Forewarned is forearmed. I’m with you on the school. I think it would be an incredible opportunity for Taylor. Here’s my concern. If his uncle is his legal guardian, could he shut it down? Forbid it?”
“I don’t know. To be honest, I never thought of that. Why would he? I mean—”
“I don’t know that he would. I’m just thinking out loud and want to be prepared that, in the event he tries something, we’re prepared to deal with it. I’ll talk to Louie this morning and get some information. My first thought is, based on the life Taylor has been forced to live over the past few years, any rights the uncle might have would be negated simply based on past lifestyle. He seems anything but responsible.”
