Inky

by J. B. Hartnett

  “Thanks. I’ll be right out.” I’d never been in a shop like this in all my life. It was so pretty. It reminded me of a fancy hotel in Paris. Not that I’d ever been there. The furniture was overstuffed brocade and velvet in golden hues. Drapes hung with giant tie-back ropes and when you entered, the scent of fresh flowers was like a wonderful cloud that whirled around you. I wanted to live here. The dress that Aimes chose was gorgeous. There was no other word for it. The color was so odd and she described it perfectly as a grey/blue or slate with black velvet accents.

  The dressing room had a pair of black stay-up stockings draped over a chair, black patent leather low heels and a strapless black bra.

  “Aimes?” I called out.

  “Yes? You okay in there?”

  “Everything in here is my size…is that a coincidence?”

  “No, I gave them your sizes so you could try it all on together. I told you I scouted everything out first.”

  “Wow, no stone unturned, huh?” She laughed.

  “Do you need any help?”

  “Nope, I think I’ve got it.” It actually didn’t take long at all for me to get into the ensemble. I slid my foot into the last shoe and turned to face the mirror in the dressing room. I slowly lifted my head with my eyes closed tight so I could surprise myself. When I finally opened them, I couldn’t believe I was looking at myself.

  “OH. MY. GOD!” I exclaimed.

  Aimes threw the door open.

  “Holy shit, it’s perfect, Ink! You look beautiful! I don’t mean it like you scrub up nice, I mean, wow!” The dress fit me like it was made for me. The neck line was a low v in the front and an even lower v in the back which actually complemented the ink color of my large tattoo. The black velvet trim was met with a slate blue silk which hugged my body until it became a long A-line skirt. I was happy it was a three quarter sleeve because I couldn’t imagine wearing anything over it.

  “It’s actually a replica of a 1950’s Christian Dior evening dress. The original was a solid black silk taffeta but this is more feminine. From what your friend tells me about your painting, it will complement it nicely.”

  Yes it would.

  “Aimes, get my purse.”

  ***

  I thanked my friend profusely and just over a grand later, I walked out with every item carefully wrapped and hung in a garment bag. To thank her for all her hard work, I told her to choose wherever she wanted to eat, my treat, and it didn’t matter what the cost. I suggested lobster. She chose the same Mexican dive we always go to, but we had to stop at the Harbor to shoot the shit and have a couple of margaritas first. I couldn’t argue with that.

  “All I have to buy are panties.” I wasn’t lacking in the underwear department but it seemed like I should have new fancy panties to go with the outfit.

  “Why wear them at all?” She suggested.

  “You know, if Evan was actually going to be there, I might consider it.”

  “What do you mean, he isn’t gonna be there?” She had been in mid-margarita-sip but the glass returned to its little red cocktail napkin.

  “He has that recording thing. He can’t really get out of it. It’s a great opportunity for him and hopefully there’ll be other shows.” I shrugged my shoulders and took a sip of the frothy goodness.

  “Huh.”

  “What do you mean, huh?”

  She moved her glass away from her. It wasn’t like it was blocking her view but that action made a statement that she wanted my full attention.

  She said nothing.

  “Okay, Aimes. What the hell is going on?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about?” she said innocently.

  “Like hell you don’t. You’re not exactly cryptic, okay? You told me before that Evan was acting weird and you know what? Of course he is. It was stupid of me to think the attack and my past were not that big of a deal and I didn’t even tell him the worst of it. So, maybe he’s still, I don’t know, digesting it all. You and I have had years to get used to it, and you still get upset. I have to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  “I know you do and I’m sorry. I just have giant alarm bells going off over here. I think…” I cut her off.

  “I don’t want to know. Whatever you know, or you think you know, don’t tell me. Remember that I was the other woman when he was casually dating and he was the other man when I was casually dating. I have to believe it’s different for both of us. He’s busy, he’s finally making a career as a musician and he’s happy.” I really had no idea what she was going to say but the fact that Evan had a last minute recording gig did bother me. I had no reason to doubt him but for Aimes to keep making comments, there had to be something that wasn’t sitting well with her. I just wanted to ignore it.

  “I’m sorry, Aimes. I just want to go and have this be a memorable night. I’m not doubting myself. But the reality is, this might be a one-time thing. There’s no guarantee that anything will come of one painting being displayed. I think it’s harder to be an artist, a successful artist than it is to be a rock star. Know what I mean? I need to be supportive of Evan’s dream too. So I’m going to wear my pretty dress and take it all in and enjoy it.”

  There was nothing she could say.

  She raised her glass to me and I raised mine in kind.

  “To Inky.” She said. “May all your dreams come true.”

  “Thanks, Aimes.”

  Chapter 12

  I ordered the cab to arrive at seven pm sharp, knowing I would be in Newport well before eight. I’d always had this fantasy of having a drink in a Hotel Bar and living someone else’s life for a while. I could be anybody: a business executive, a lawyer, a high priced call girl waiting for her client…no one would ever ask me, I could sit and people watch and let them wonder. I could drink my drink and let them draw their own conclusions.

  I told Abe to meet me for a drink beforehand, away from the people of the event. I knew there would be champagne and finger food but I wanted some time to reflect. During the drive I had a memory of when my dad took us to Disneyland. He talked about it for a month before and the wait was excruciating. The day came and went so quickly that I always regretted not paying attention to more details. I had no way of knowing that was my dad’s way of saying goodbye. He left a week later and I never saw him again. To this day, I don’t know the reason he left but I learned to not only participate in my life but try to observe it as well. It doesn’t always work, but this was one of those times I wanted to truly live in the moment. I wanted to savor every last morsel so I could recall with ease how beautiful I felt, the excitement and rush of seeing my creation on display, having positive affirmations of my talent ring in my ears like a beautiful song.

  I still felt like I was going to pee my pants though.

  I went to the bar, full of confidence and ordered.

  “Cognac, please.”

  “We have a couple to choose from. Would you like... ” I cut the guy off.

  “Surprise me. Thanks.”

  I turned around to peruse the room. I was setting out my destination and the course I would take to get there. Now, it’s not like I’m a big drinker. As the child of an alcoholic, I was always aware that ‘the disease,’ as it’s referred to, did run in my family. With that in mind, I was always cautious. I do know enough about myself to know I don’t have an addictive personality either. But when I did drink to celebrate, I did it with style. When I partied with my friends, I drank tequila or beer…Corona was my favorite. Tonight was a celebration and who knows when I would be dressed in a beautiful gown sipping top shelf liquor out of a pretty glass again? The only thing missing was Evan. I wished he and I were walking hand in hand to the small round table in the corner, moving our club chairs closer together and whispering suggestive comments to one another. Hopefully he’d be back later tonight and I could at least tell him everything while it was still fresh in my mind. For now, the night had just begun.

  I sat in the corner and casually look
ed to the doorway every now and then. Seconds later, Abe walked in dressed in his black tie finery. It took him a while to spot me but when he did, his eyes lit up as he approached. I was glad he spoke softly.

  “Well, turn me over and fuck me straight, Inky, goddamn girl!! You’re gorgeous!”

  “Why, thank you, Abe.” I smiled contentedly.

  “I mean it, you’re already beautiful but now you’re stunning. Is this the work of your little friend, Aimes?”

  “Indeed it is.”

  “Well, you tell her from me that she did a great job. I swear that dress was made just for you. It matches your eyes. Ah, gush, gush, gush. Well, I see you’ve started without me,” he said, pointing at my glass.

  “I just wanted to take the edge off a little.”

  “Darling, wait until you see those Housewives of the O.C. in there. They’re going to hate every young, natural inch of you. I can’t wait to see their faces. I do need to get back in there and make nice-nice with Mrs. Emerson. You’ll want to introduce yourself if she doesn’t come to you first. There’s a lot of buzz about your work so be prepared. She’s going to insist that you call her Alicia. Her husband is Eli Emerson but you knew that. Anyway, she can help you, Ink. This is the ultimate networking opportunity so use it wisely. Hell, exploit the hell out of these assholes and do it with grace like only you can. And try not to say ‘fuck’ a lot.” He laughed heartily.

  “You know me too well, Abe.” He rose from the chair across from me to leave. “Abe?”

  “Yes?” He said, all smiles and pep.

  “Thank you. For everything.” He crouched down next to me.

  “Ink, you’re here because of your paintings in there.”

  Paintings? Plural?

  “I’m just the lucky asshole that gave you a break. You’re the talent. If you get freaked out, come and find me. Aimes said you get a little panicky sometimes.”

  “That’s only when I sing in public. I’m getting better though.” This time he actually made it a few steps from me, “Wait, Abe? Did you say paintings?” He gave me a quick smile and bolted out of the room. Oh that sneaky little fucker.

  The Grand Ballroom had been transformed into a large gallery. There were several thick partition walls, painted black. The first thing you saw at the entrance was a black wall with the words ‘The Annual Gillies Exhibition’ in white plastic lettering. My heart jumped a little when it hit me I was a guest and a featured artist. I took a program from a small table to the left and began to view the other portraits and paintings on display. The contrast in styles was wonderful to see. It was as if someone was asked to choose a piece that represented a specific genre or technique. It was then that I noticed Mrs. Alicia Emerson speaking with three men as they studied a large piece in front of them. I rounded the corner to get a better look and to hear her opinion of the work.

  “Well, she’s unknown at this point but we’ll change all that after I’m through with her, huh, boys?” The three men laughed politely. “Mr Bertrand can give you more information but I’m sure a commission wouldn’t be out of the question. If you look at these three, you can see her style varies…pardon?... No, that one is sold already I’m afraid.”

  Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!! I just might pee my pants. I felt a little tap on my shoulder and jumped.

  “Geez, Abe you scared me.” I whispered.

  “You’re a big hit. Just hang back and listen to what she says. Let Mrs. Emerson or myself do the talking when it comes to the work. Just enjoy it and have some champagne. If you need some air, there’s a beautiful garden just out the side doors there. Don’t go too far though.”

  “I’ll just go and breathe some much needed oxygen. Thanks.”

  When I passed by Mrs. Emerson and the three men, she caught my eye and winked without stopping her stream of conversation. What does she get out of all of this? I know Abe gets a commission but still; if the work isn’t sold out of the gallery, how does she make money? I didn’t care. I was so happy and overwhelmed. It was fantastic.

  Two hours and three glasses of champagne later, the crowd died down to almost nothing. I’d hidden out in the garden most of the evening. Abe came to check on me a few times but I had yet to formally meet Alicia. I peeked through the door to see if I could make a dash around one of the large partitions to where my paintings were hung and was happy to see the coast was clear. Casually, I stood at the corner, knowing as soon as I rounded it, my work would be in full view. Just as I was about to turn, Alicia Emerson was at my side.

  “You must be Ms. Redding?” she said shaking my hand.

  “Yes, but you can call me Anika, or Inky, whichever you prefer.”

  “What would you prefer?” She smiled.

  “Well, Inky is fine. My friends call me Inky.”

  “In that case, please call me Alicia. Every time I hear ‘Mrs. Emerson,’ I’m afraid one of Eli’s ex-wives is gonna turn around. Anyway, did you have a good time tonight? I didn’t see much of you?”

  “It was a little overwhelming but I guarantee I’ll remember this night as long as I live.”

  “I’m very pleased to hear that. It’s a pity your ocean scene is sold. It’s drawn quite an interest. One of those men I was speaking with when you arrived was willing to double whatever was paid for it. I told him we just don’t do things that way but that would give your painting a value of twenty-five grand would it not?”

  I audibly gasped, “Yes, I guess it would.”

  “Don’t be scared by the big numbers. That man would like to commission another one from you, something similar. He seems intrigued by the story behind the painting. Abe made something up that sounded plausible but I would love to hear what you have to say about it?”

  “Please don’t take this the wrong way but it’s kind of personal.” I hesitated for a moment, knowing this woman had ensured me a place in this exhibit at the last minute and was likely the reason I would be a working artist instead of a struggling one. “If I tell you, can I have your word you won’t print it or tell anyone else?”

  “Well, I’m even more intrigued now. You have my word.”

  I rounded the corner and kept my eyes to the floor, letting her steps be my guide. We were only a couple of feet from the display wall.

  “So, Inky, what am I looking at here?” She took a step just behind my right shoulder and I began without looking up.

  “The left hand side is dark. The billowing storm, making its way across the ocean – it has movement, it’s uncertain whether it’s going to reach the mainland at this point. The right hand side is still light, full of hope and promise... the swirling sand blown up represents the lovers, the focal point…” I paused, wondering if I was going to actually continue.

  “Don’t stop now. Please.”

  “You wouldn’t expect them to be there, really. The landscape is the balance of their story together, light and dark... he’s comforting her. See his hands? She’s terrified; her form is being pulled toward the dark but he’s the light. He sings to her and he’s trying to pull her from the darkness.”

  “I can see it now. I can also see it’s highly personal for you, Ms. Redding. We’ll talk business another day. We have much to discuss. This is the last time you’ll see this piece, isn’t it?”

  “I think so.”

  “I’ll leave you two alone then to say goodbye. See you next week.” I felt her eyes on me but didn’t meet them.

  “Thank you, Ali... ” but she was gone. I felt her absence but confirmed it when I looked to empty space at my right.

  At long last I lifted my head to look at my work. Work. This wasn’t work. It wasn’t a job. It was a pleasure. It was right up there with sex and chocolate. It was wickedness and euphoria all rolled into one. I didn’t want to rush this moment. I tried to remind myself that this was my goal, to take it in, every part of it. This was also a piece of my history.

  “It’s even more beautiful than I remember it.”

  I was not alone. His voice flowed over m
y exposed back to the nape of my neck and climbed to my ears. I felt my skin ignite with his rich smooth tone. Maybe this was the effect of the Cognac and champagne combined with the emotion of the painting. I was afraid to turn around. So many things could happen now. I could turn into a pillar of salt, unlikely. I could blush or say something inappropriate, more likely. But the most likely outcome would be that the tears that were just sitting there, holding on for dear life, would break free and expose me completely. I chose to look ahead. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to acknowledge him. I didn’t want to break the spell.

  His hand rested at the small of my back and he spoke gently to me, “It’s magnificent. You captured it perfectly…Anika.” I stared ahead, my heart pounding in my chest. He moved to my side and took my hand in his. “Come on. I’ll take you home.” I opened my fingers and let him lead me out of the room, out of the hotel and into the unknown.

  Chapter 13

  I didn’t even say good bye to Abe. He waved at me as I walked away with this stranger. But he wasn’t a stranger at all. This man had been a presence in my life for over two months now. He seemed to pop up at significant times, always when I was vulnerable or I let my guard down. We didn’t speak during the entire drive down the coast and he never once let go of my hand. Now that we were only a few miles away, I didn’t want the drive to end. Almost as if reading my mind, he made a right and headed toward the harbor. At the top of a hill, a spot famous for making out and watching sunsets, he turned off the car.

  “Come on.” He came to my door and opened it, reaching for my hand once again. I had only let go so he could get out of the car.

  “You know who I am?” He asked.

  “My benefactor.” I said sarcastically.

  “Well, I did buy your painting if that’s what you mean. Did you ever look at my card?”

  “Cole Lachlan Carlyle. Big tipper.” I announced.

  “So you do know my name.” He smiled.