Painless (The Story of Samantha Smith #3)

by Devon Hartford

  Christos wrapped a loving arm around me and pulled me into his chest. He kissed my forehead softly. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be by your side, no matter what happens.”

  “Really?”

  “Really,” he murmured in my ear.

  I inhaled the warm loving scent emanating from his chest as I wrapped my arms around his waist. “I love you so much, Christos Adonis Manos.”

  “I love you too, Samantha Anna Smith,” he said as he kissed the top of my head.

  “Get a room!” Romeo said as he came walking up. “And stop being such a cooch mooch, Christos. You’ve been hogging Sam for the last hour. There’s more than enough of her to go around.” He slid his arm between me and Christos and pulled me to his side for a quick hug.

  “Cooch mooch?” I chuckled. “Are you calling me a cooch?”

  “You have one, don’t you?” Romeo scoffed, releasing the hug.

  “Yeah, but it’s not like I go around calling you a needless penis.”

  “I’m hurt, Sam. Are you suggesting my good humor is not wanted?” He made a droopy, sad face, jutting out his lower lip. His shoulders sagged comically.

  “Oh, Romeo,” I giggled, “Your penis is always needed.”

  “That’s what I’m told,” Romeo grinned. “Do you want to swing by Kamiko’s painting and say hello? I’m afraid someone is going to kidnap her in that dress.”

  “Awww, are you worried about her, Romeo?” I crooned.

  “Of course I am, Sam. Who knew a cartoon character could be so sexy?” he quipped. “I’d do her if she had a dick.”

  I winced. “Wrong image.”

  “It would be a very feminine dick,” Romeo said. “Smallish with a tiny little pink wrapper.”

  I winced wider. “Not helping!” I warned.

  “What’s wrong with dicks, Sam? You like them, don’t you?”

  I shook my head, and started laughing. “Romeo, please!”

  “What?” Romeo looked at Christos for support.

  “Don’t look at me!” Christos chuckled. “I’m all about mooching the cooch.”

  I shook my head. “You guys have one track minds tonight. Did we walk into a brothel without me realizing it?”

  “Everywhere I go,” Romeo quipped, “I bring the brothel.”

  That was one hundred percent true.

  ===

  Christos, Romeo, and I squeezed through the crowd toward Kamiko’s painting. At the moment, she stood alone. The show had been going long enough that most people had seen all of the art and were now busy socializing and getting drunk.

  “Hey, guys,” Kamiko said nervously.

  “How’s it going?” I asked. “Has your painting sold?”

  “No,” she said, sounding disappointed.

  I had noticed that most of the other paintings Christos and I had looked at had red dots on the placards, meaning they’d sold. I wasn’t about to tell Kamiko that.

  “It seems like most of the paintings are selling,” Kamiko sighed.

  Oh well. She’d figured it out herself. “Yours will sell,” I encouraged.

  “Excuse me, guys,” Christos said, “I think I just saw a buddy of mine. I’m going to go say hey.”

  “All right,” I said. “I’m going to stay here with Kamiko and Romeo.”

  Christos kissed me on the cheek.

  “Don’t I get a kiss?” Romeo smirked.

  “Next time,” Christos winked at Romeo before walking into the crowd.

  I turned back to Kamiko. She looked increasingly distraught.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking entering my painting into the show,” she said. “Maybe my parents were right about me being pre-med. This art thing is hard.”

  “Don’t be silly, Kamiko,” Romeo said dismissively. “Your art is awesome.”

  Kamiko looked at him despondently.

  I didn’t know what else to say.

  Brandon squeezed through the crowd toward us, “Hey,” he said. He didn’t sound any more enthusiastic than the rest of us.

  Disappointmentballs.

  “How’s it going?” Brandon asked Kamiko.

  She rolled her eyes. “The truth?”

  Brandon nodded.

  “My feet are killing me. I’ve been standing here two hours.”

  Romeo said, “Kamiko, maybe you should unzip the front of your dress and say you come with the painting.”

  Brandon chuckled, “While that might work, I’d like to think Kamiko’s art stands on it’s own two feet.”

  “Yeah,” she said sarcastically, “but my painting isn’t wearing platform sandals,” she groaned. “I’m the one doing all the standing.”

  “Maybe this will help,” Brandon said, leaning toward Kamiko.

  I was suddenly sure he was going to kiss her.

  Instead, he pressed a red dot onto the placard of her painting. “It sold,” he grinned.

  “What?” Kamiko’s face lit up.

  “For two thousand,” Brandon smiled.

  Kamiko clapped her hands to her face. “Ohmygod! I don’t believe it!”

  “Believe it,” Brandon chuckled. “I had two buyers. The price started at fifteen hundred, but they argued their way up to two grand before one of them bought it.”

  “Wow!’ I smiled. “You’re a hot commodity tonight, Kamiko! Isn’t she hot, Brandon?” I hinted with zero subtlety.

  “She’s on fire tonight,” Brandon smiled before walking off.

  I looked at Kamiko and sighed, “I tried.”

  “Oh,” Kamiko said, “I don’t care about Brandumb anymore.” She looked disappointed, but then her face lit up and she started hopping in her heels and clapping, “I sold my painting! I sold it, I sold it!”

  Romeo smiled, “I knew you would, Kamiko. Come here, you cartoon character,” he said with genuine emotion. He gave Kamiko a huge hug. “I knew you could do it. Didn’t I tell you in high school you were going to be a big artist someday?”

  Kamiko’s eyes were watering, “You did. You’ve always stood by me, you monocle wearing fairy.”

  They laughed and hugged again.

  Kamiko said, “Who needs a boyfriend when I have Romeo?”

  “Hey, guys,” Christos said as he squeezed past people to get to us.

  “Kamiko sold her painting!” I cheered.

  “You did?” Christos beamed. “That’s awesome, Kamiko.”

  Kamiko nodded, grinning at Christos.

  A cute guy squeezed out from behind Christos. He wore a black suit vest over a gray button down shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbows, black skinny jeans, and a red bow tie checked in black. His thick dark hair was mussed and a sexy curl dipped over his brow. On each forearm he had a tattoo of a cartoon character. Both were from Adventure Time, Kamiko’s favorite cartoon. I totally recognized them from all the times I’d watched the show with her since school started last year.

  Kamiko’s jaw dropped, and she gasped, “What the F? Why do you have tattoos of Marceline and Princess Bubblegum?”

  Hipster guy frowned at Kamiko like she was completely stupid. “Duh. Because they rock,” he grinned.

  His sexy smile had panty dropping potential for sure. Not that I noticed, but it went well with his emerald eyes. Again, not that I’d noticed.

  But Romeo had. I think he was drooling at the guy.

  “Hey, Samantha,” Christos said, “remember I told you back in November that a buddy of mine did storyboards for Adventure Time?”

  I nodded.

  “This is him,” Christos grinned. “Everybody, meet Dillon McKenna.”

  Dillon shook hands with everybody.

  Kamiko looked like a deer caught in headlights. I couldn’t decide if she was fan girling because Dillon worked on her favoritest cartoon ever, or because he was so handsome.

  “Charmed,” Romeo said as they shook, sounding totally girlie.

  I grinned to myself as I imagined Romeo and Kamiko fighting over Dillon.

  Christos said, “Kamiko is a huge fan
of Adventure Time. And she painted that painting,” he motioned toward it.

  Dillon glanced at the painting, then did a double take. He stepped toward it and gave it a closer look. “Wow, you did this?”

  Kamiko nodded nervously.

  “This is tits,” he said, looking at it closely. “Why does the face on the koi fish look familiar?” he asked.

  We all broke into a laugh, except for Dillon.

  “Inside joke,” Kamiko smiled.

  Dillon nodded as he scrutinized her painting further. “This is really good. What was your name again?”

  “Kamiko Nishimura,” she grinned.

  “You sure can paint, Kamiko,” he smiled.

  “So,” Kamiko said nervously, “you storyboard for Adventure Time?”

  “You watch the show?” Dillon asked.

  “Totally! I have every season on DVD! I dressed up as Marceline last Halloween!” She sounded totally nervous.

  “You do cosplay?” Dillon asked her, sounding impressed.

  Kamiko nodded.

  “Nice,” he said. “I made my own Ice King costume last Halloween. I have pics on my phone, if you want to see.”

  “Shut up!” Kamiko grinned like it was Christmas.

  Dillon nodded as he pulled out his phone, “But I’m going to make an Earl of Lemongrab costume for San Diego Comic Con this summer.”

  “What! Do you have tickets?”

  “Yeah, we get them because we work on the show,” he said as he thumbed through his phone.

  “I can never get tickets to Comic Con!” Kamiko said. “It’s always sold out.”

  “I can get you in this year, if you want,” Dillon smiled. “They always have extras at the office.”

  Dillon handed his phone to Kamiko.

  She examined the pictures. “Wow! Your Ice King costume rocks! You made it yourself?”

  Dillon smiled a huge grin and nodded. “Totally.”

  Turning to me and Christos, Romeo said, “I think we need to leave those two alone. Kamiko’s eyes have turned into candy hearts, or something equally juvenile.”

  “I think they’re little pink smiley faces right now,” Christos chuckled.

  Christos, Romeo, and I all smiled at each other while we slowly retreated, leaving Kamiko and Dillon to geek out about Adventure Time, cosplay, and the San Diego Comic Con.

  ===

  CHRISTOS

  The DJ turned up the volume as the crowd grew more boisterous. People had to talk loud to be heard, enhancing the nightclub vibe.

  I don’t know why I hadn’t thought to introduce Kamiko to Dillon sooner. They were perfect for each other.

  Samantha demanded, “Why didn’t you tell me your Adventure Time friend was so hot? And perfect for Kamiko?”

  I frowned, “Are you reading my mind?”

  “What?” she asked, confused.

  “Never mind,” I grinned. “Anyway, I guess I had other things distracting me back then.” I gave her a knowing look and leaned down to kiss her lips.

  Romeo grunted, “Somebody get me a bucket. There’s so much true love around here tonight, I’m going to puke.”

  “Oh,” Samantha said compassionately, “I’m sorry Romeo. Christos, do you have any hot steampunk friends for Romeo?”

  “I’ll have to check,” I smiled.

  Brandon came walking up. “How are you all?” he smiled. “Enjoying the show?”

  “Great show, Brandon,” Samantha said.

  I think her mood had improved ever since Kamiko had sold her koi painting. I knew Samantha was trying to keep a game face about her parents’ split, but you could only fake so much. Her guts were probably flip flopping every sixty seconds morning, noon, and night. I know mine had when my mom had left my dad over a decade ago.

  Fuck, my guts still knotted when I thought about my mom.

  (mom)

  “Thank you,” Brandon smiled his stock Mr. Pleasant smile. “Christos, can I talk to you for a few moments?”

  “Sure,” I said. I raised my eyebrows at Samantha and Romeo.

  “Let’s go look around, Sam,” Romeo said. He pulled Samantha off into the crowd.

  “What up, Brandon?” I asked.

  “I wanted to check in about your progress on your paintings. Care to take a stroll in the sculpture garden?”

  I nodded.

  We walked out back. The sculpture garden wasn’t quite as crowded as the inside of the gallery, and it was outside so we had a vague sense of privacy in the hedges mazing around under the starlight. Brandon was all about appearances, so taking me back here meant he had something to say that was going to irritate either him or me.

  When we were secluded, he asked, “How’s that portrait of Isabella coming along? Did you make the changes like Stanford Wentworth suggested?”

  I chuckled. As if.

  “What?” Brandon smiled.

  Did I tell Brandon now that I’d destroyed the painting of Isabella in a fit of rage? Or let him find out when it was noticeably absent from my solo show? Fuck it. I didn’t feel like dancing tonight. “I’ve decided to go in a different direction for the show.”

  Brandon narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “I’m trashing the idea of using models. It wasn’t working for me.”

  “I thought they were looking pretty good.”

  “You heard Wentworth,” I chuckled. “You were there. He said the paintings were lifeless.”

  “I could sell them,” Brandon scoffed.

  “You could sell a car to a canary.”

  Brandon frowned, “Why would a canary want a car? They have wings.”

  “Exactly.”

  Brandon dismissed my comment. “Christos, you and I have known each other a long time.”

  I nodded.

  “I’m trying to build your career,” he said.

  I said, “But I don’t want a career painting models I don’t give a shit about.”

  “Beautiful women sell, Christos. They never go out of style.”

  I arched an eyebrow and nodded at him.

  “At any rate,” he continued, “I can’t build your career if I don’t have any paintings to sell. Here’s a suggestion. We sell the nudes you have now next month, at your solo show. Next year, we transition you into more meaningful subject matter. The important thing is we keep your momentum going. I have fifteen possible buyers lined up for your paintings. I even have one for the Isabella portrait. I don’t care what Stanford Wentworth said, I can get us one-twenty-five K for it.”

  Whoops. I could use $125,000. Nothing like attorney’s fees to drain your wallet down to zero. Fucking Hunter Blakeley.

  Sadly, if I dug the tatters of the Isabella painting out of the dump now, I don’t think Brandon would get fifty cents for it.

  He asked, “How much longer do you think it would take for you to finish fifteen paintings?”

  Brandon needed a reality check. He was under the impression I’d been busily working away in the studio these past few months, cranking out more paintings of his L.A. models. I’d kept hidden until now the fact that I’d fallen way behind because of the Horst Grossman trial and because I’d decided to go in a different direction with my art.

  “Months,” I said.

  Brandon’s eyes goggled. “Months? I don’t have months. I’ve got shows lined up for the rest of the year. I can’t shift things around. Christos,” he said, sounding deeply disappointed, “I can’t keep these buyers waiting around. If I don’t close them now, they’re going to go elsewhere.”

  “Why don’t you sell them on some of your other artists?”

  “These are big name buyers. They’re not interested in my other artists, Christos. They’re interested in you. They want the Manos magic. I need your paintings. Now. How many do you have?”

  “Three are finished. The ones you’ve seen of Avery, Jacqueline, and Becca. I’ve got three more in progress.” I was thinking of the LOVE painting of me and Samantha, the solo portrait of her, and the surprise I h
ad brewing for everyone.

  “Six? I thought you had seven. I know I sent you seven models and you were working on all of them. What happened?”

  “The, ahhh…well…” I was going to have to tell him, “The painting of Isabella is R.I.P.”

  “What? Why?” He was frowning.

  “I told you, it wasn’t working for me.”

  “You didn’t change it, did you, like Wentworth asked?”

  “No,” I scoffed. “He’s an idiot.”

  “Good. Because I’m telling you, I can sell that painting for six figures for sure.”

  Fuck. He may as well know. “It’s gone.”

  “What, did you sell it already?” he chuckled nervously.

  If I had, I would be a total prick and Brandon would reconsider our business relationship. I wouldn’t blame him. Lucky for me, I hadn’t. “I, um, tore it to pieces.”

  Brandon’s eyes goggled wider than before. “Why the hell would you do that?” He actually sounded angry. Brandon never lost his cool. “I had a buyer lined up. The guy buys nothing but high priced nudes. He wouldn’t think twice about paying a hundred grand for yours. You’re crazy, Christos.” Brandon shook his head and frowned, looking half defeated. Then he paused and his angry expression eased into an easy grin. “You’re pulling my leg, aren’t you, Christos?”

  I shook my head, “No. I tore the shit out of it and threw it away.”

  Brandon’s eyes goggled a third time. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  I nodded.

  “Christos, you’re killing me,” he sighed. “I can’t put up a solo show with six paintings. The gallery will look empty. I’m going to need more.”

  I felt bad. I had put myself in this position. “Look, maybe I can make it nine.”

  “Nine?” he asked skeptically.

  “I never finished the three ones of the other models.”

  “Why not?”

  “I told you, I started on new pieces.”

  “Christos, what are you doing to me?” he pleaded. “How far are you along on all the unfinished paintings?” He sounded totally exasperated. “Are you going to have any of them done in time?” Now he sounded like a disappointed parent.

  Poor Brandon. I couldn’t blame him. I was fucking everything up and I knew it. I sighed, “The three new ones will definitely be finished. If I hustle, I can get the other three finished too.”