by Andrew Grey
Anyway, I put the fresh canvas on the easel and got to work. The shoulder-length blond hair and strong jaw were easy enough to recreate, as were Dieter’s eyes and nose. Those I had seen, and because I posed him slightly to the side, I was easily able to imagine what his butt looked like. After the way his pants had tightened when he’d bent over, I just let my mind’s eye remove them. It was the rest of him that left me at a loss, but not for long. One thing I had learned was to let my mind fill in the blanks. It was so much easier and a lot more fun. I painted his broad shoulders, which were pretty easy to see through his clothes, and the rest, I just let my little old mind take over.
I took a break after an hour, eating my sandwich and drinking the water. I stayed in my room, ignoring my mother through the closed door as she griped at Isabella for whatever imagined slight the poor girl had caused. It wasn’t that I didn’t care. I did. My mother could be a witch of the highest order. She could also be a kind person. The problem was, I never knew which one I was going to get on any given day. So I did my best to stay out of the line of fire, and that meant spending a lot of time in my room, ignoring the rest of my family.
“Florian!” Jeremy screamed from hall.
I put the in-progress canvas out of sight and pulled out an unfinished landscape that I had been working on for months and set it on the easel. I added a few brushstrokes to make it look wet, then unlocked and opened the door.
“What?” I snapped, mimicking his tone. In this screwed-up family, aggression needed to be met with aggression. Not doing so was a recipe for getting eaten alive. Maybe Hattie was right and getting out was the only way to preserve my sanity.
“I need to borrow your suit coat. I have a date, and it isn’t as though you use it. So….” He held out his hand, but I shook my head. “There’s no need to be a dick about it.”
“I’m not being a dick. Last time, you spilled shit on it, and I had to have it cleaned to get the stain out. Plus it came back smelling like weed. Mess up your own clothes.” He was such a pig and he spent his money on God knew what and then expected me to loan him what I had saved to buy.
“Mom said you needed to do it.” Jeremy crossed his arms over his chest.
I stepped back a little, intending to close the door. “Go away, Jeremy. I’m not loaning you anything. And I don’t care if you run to Mommy when you don’t get your own way.”
“Little shit,” he spat.
“Wussy man-baby. I wonder what Mom would say if she knew you spent your pay on a joint.” I smiled, knowing Mom would have a fit. Jeremy knew it too. He seethed and his face turned beet red, but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do. “I have pictures of you completely stoned, drooling like an idiot all over yourself, so don’t cause any trouble.” I was playing the one major card I had, but it was time he understood I was tired of dealing with him.
“You piece of….” He puffed himself up, another tactic I was used to.
“Just go away and wear your own clothes on your ‘date.’” I knew what it really was. “Maureen is way too smart to let you in her pants anyway.” That was all Jeremy ever wanted from anyone he “dated.” To call Jeremy a hound dog was an insult to the breed.
“How do you know who I’m seeing?” Jeremy stepped back as I started to close the door.
“Remember where we live. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. So all the girls here know about you and what you want. As well as your shortcomings.” I wagged my pinkie at him.
“Well, everyone knows you’ve never dated any girl anywhere.” Of course, Jeremy thought my orientation was some kind of weapon he could use. I had never hidden who I was. Mr. Bartholomew coming out of the closet in a big way with Beau had certainly been helpful.
“So what?” I actually chuckled. “No big deal.”
“My friends and I know how to handle guys like you.”
Now that was a new threat.
“They might.” I suddenly realized I had another bit of ammunition. “But do you think Mr. Bartholomew is going to allow a group of homophobes to work at his plant? He’ll fire the lot of you if you do anything, and you know it. There are plenty of people here who would love any of your jobs.”
I swore smoke was going to come out of Jeremy’s ears. I’d been playing this game with him for a long time, and while Jeremy used to get the better of me, with enough practice, I’d become the master at it. The hard part was having the internal fortitude to actually follow through if I needed to. But Jeremy didn’t have to know that. “Good night, Jeremy.” I closed and locked the door. That was more than enough of that crap for one night.
I put the landscape away, getting out my visual imaginings of Dieter, and started to work once again.
I loved to paint. It made me happy. I didn’t usually paint pictures of people I met—that would be really intrusive. So I usually put pieces of people together. Okay, that sounded really weird in my head. I mean, my work was often what my head put together, so this one was different for me because not only was I painting Dieter, but I also had no intention of selling it. See, I loved putting my fantasies on canvas, but once I was done, I moved on. However, as Dieter took shape in front of me, I knew this was too personal to let go of. I wondered if I was being stupid, but I shifted my hips as excitement washed through me.
“Florian!” my mother snapped outside the door.
I sighed and put the work away for the night. I wasn’t likely to get anything else done. I opened the door once the painting was out of sight, then moved the easel to the corner as I continued straightening up. “What is it?” I didn’t have the patience to deal with this right now. “I was trying to get some things done.”
“What’s going on with you and Jeremy?” she asked, butting in the way she usually did.
I scoffed slightly. “Just stay out of it. He and I need to work things out ourselves, and you don’t need to be involved. If we fight, then….” I shrugged. “You only come off as unfair and show that he’s your favorite.” Mom always said she didn’t pick favorites, but that was lip service. “What else do you need? I’m going to get ready to go to bed. I have to go into the studio early tomorrow morning.” I had plenty to do, and the studio was always quiet first thing in the morning, so I could think.
“Fine. But it would be nice if you and your brother would get along.”
By that she meant that I should give Jeremy whatever he wanted.
“Maybe we could if he wasn’t such a huge jerk.” I shook my head. “Good night.” This conversation was over. Mom always thought Jeremy and I should be friends, but I didn’t like him. He wasn’t the kind of person I wanted in my life.
She left, and I closed the door, got out my clothes for the morning, and then went to the bathroom to clean up.
I got undressed and climbed into bed. Slowly my mind calmed and the conflicts with my family gave way to other, more pleasant things. It didn’t take long before I wondered if I was going to be seeing Dieter again.
Chapter 2
THE ROAD to my favorite spot for watching birds was just ahead. The last few days had been wet from a storm coming up the coast that had deluged us with unrelenting rain, so I hadn’t come out. I’d missed the chance to be outdoors.
My heart raced a little faster as I made the turnoff, hoping Dieter might be there, but the parking lot was empty. I pulled in and turned off the engine, changed out of my shoes and into my boots, then grabbed my binoculars and camera before carefully wading through the grass and reeds.
As wet as it had been, I had to be even more careful to not get sucked into an unseen mud hole.
The day after the rain was the best time to see the birds. They usually came out in droves to scavenge for whatever the weather might have drawn to the surface or left behind… and today was no exception. Herons, gulls, egrets, and kingfishers all seemed to be everywhere. They flew, swooped through the air, or picked their way through the grass and marsh in search of food. It was lovely.
I crouched in the reeds, finding
a dry spot and using the tall grasses as cover to watch, listening and filling my camera with images. There was almost too much activity to take in all at once.
An engine sound grew near, and I turned but didn’t see the car. I didn’t want to scare any of the birds away, so I stayed where I was until slurpy footsteps came closer.
“Florian,” Dieter said with his deep voice and German accent.
“Right here. Stay low and move slowly. There is a lot of activity today.” I waited until Dieter got nearer and moved over to share my firm, dry patch of ground. I pointed. “Look over there. The baby egrets are learning from their mother to hunt for food.” Dieter leaned in the direction I had pointed, and I inhaled his sweet, slightly musky scent. Dang, he smelled good. I inched a little closer, just so I could get another whiff of him. Too bad I’d never learned how to add scent to a painting—other than the smell of paint, that is.
“Look over there.” Dieter pointed to a sandpiper as it scampered over the sand, poking its long beak down every now and then.
A motor sounded in the distance and grew louder and louder. It was one of those large cabin cruisers going full speed, motors rumbling throatily as it approached. The birds scampered for cover or took to the air, flying off for safety.
“I hate that. They’re supposed to slow down in this section of the Bay, but they don’t always do it. Danged tourists.” This was a known birding area and most locals left it alone or stayed clear when they were on the water.
There was no use sitting here any longer. The birds were gone, and while they’d return eventually, they were scattered now. Besides, it was getting late.
I stood, stretching my back and legs. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s not your fault.” Dieter was wearing the same sort of clothes as he had the last time I saw him. Definitely something out of another era. His gaze traveled downward as I smiled. “My clothes?”
I nodded. “Where did you get them? At an antique store?”
Dieter shrugged. “They were my father’s. He used to take me bird-watching in Bavaria when I was a little boy. It was one of the few things he and I did together.” He slowly and carefully made his way back toward the cars, and I followed him, enjoying the view. “My father was a difficult man.” Dieter opened the trunk, took off his binoculars, and set them inside their case. “He didn’t seem to have a lot of time for me, but we used to go hiking in the Alps and to lakes, where we watched birds. My father used to take me hunting, but I was miserable at it.”
I shivered. “I hate hunting. I could never get the hang of shooting.” I opened the trunk to my car and starting taking off my gear, getting out my sneakers. “My stepfather took me once and I nearly shot my foot off and then dropped the gun. It almost disappeared into the mud. After that, I decided that watching birds was a lot more interesting than trying to shoot them. I can buy chicken in the store when I want poultry.” I smiled, and Dieter grinned in return.
“I can shoot very well. I just don’t think hunting is very sporting. Not when my father’s version was standing in a field while the gamekeepers released captured birds and he shot them as they tried to get away.” Dieter looked downward once again. “But these were what he wore when we went bird-watching, and I kept them after he passed away.” He changed his shoes, and I did the same.
I wasn’t sure what to do or talk about now that we were done watching the birds. I needed to get some dinner and was about to ask if Dieter wanted to join me, but his phone rang before I could.
Dieter answered it and spoke softly in German before ending the call. “I must go. It was very nice bird-watching with you.” He nodded once, sort of a small bow. I didn’t understand what it meant, but I did the same in return. “I hope to see you again.” Dieter got into his car and hurried away. I watched him go and for a second wondered if I suddenly smelled bad.
With nothing more I could do, I packed up my things and headed to town. I wasn’t particularly interested in going home, so I figured I’d get something to eat and read for a while. I had my Kindle in my bag, and some quiet time away from family chaos was probably a good thing.
As I passed through town, I noticed the dark Mercedes parked outside the café. I thought it was Dieter’s and debated eating there. It was my favorite place in town, and Betty, the owner and hostess, usually gave me a table by the window so I could people-watch and relax. I didn’t want Dieter to think I was following him, though, and nearly drove past before deciding to park and go anyway.
“Hi, honey,” Betty said as I stepped inside. “Your usual table?”
I nodded. “Thanks.” I sat down, and she brought me a cup of tea and took my order for a chicken salad sandwich. One of these days I really needed to work on becoming less predictable. Even I thought my life was a bit boring and a little redundant.
“How are things going at the studio?” Betty asked after she put in the order.
“Good,” I answered, glancing over at the tables on the other side of the café. Dieter sat with Dante, talking quietly. I didn’t want to appear to be eavesdropping on my boss, but I had to confess that I barely saw Dante, my gaze only for Dieter. Dieter leaned over the table, his hair falling slightly forward, framing his profile, and I might have sighed slightly.
“I see,” Betty said, and I looked up at her. “You know Mr. Dante is taken.”
I must have looked askance at her because she nodded.
“Honey, the other man is a business associate of Dante’s. He’s dreamy, if you ask me, but I don’t know how long he’s going to be staying, so don’t get your heart set on that one.” Betty and her husband had run the diner for three decades or so, and due to diner gossip had a pretty good idea of everything that went on in town. “There haven’t been any rumors as to why he’s here, but there have been various ladies who’d like to take him for a spin.”
“Oh?” I raised my eyebrow. Heck, I’d love to give Dieter more than a spin. I’d like to rock his world, or have mine rocked a little, but I wasn’t going to go over and talk to him. I had never been good at that stuff. Once I went all the way to a Baltimore bar so I could meet guys. I ended up standing near the wall all night, watching everyone else, too scared or stupid to actually talk to anyone. No, the men in my life were the ones on canvas in my room.
“They don’t seem to be getting anywhere.” With a smile, Betty turned away to check the other tables and then ambled into the kitchen.
I drank my water, still watching Dante and Dieter… well, Dieter, because it was hard to look away from him.
The bell over the door clinked, and Beau came in, hurried to the table, and sat next to Dante. They immediately seemed to gravitate toward each other, closing the distance without doing anything untoward in public. Still, it was obvious they were together. Beau leaned over the table, talking with Dieter, and the three of them laughed softly.
I turned away and pulled out my Kindle. There was no use staring, looking like a fool. It wasn’t going to get Dieter interested in me, and why would he be anyway? I was just the guy he saw when he went bird-watching. Nothing more.
I tried not to glance up every few seconds. By the time Betty set down the plate with my sandwich, I’d read the same page eight times and couldn’t remember a single word.
“Sweetheart, you’re not very good at being un-obvious, are you?” She smiled.
“You know my family. All of us are about as subtle as an atomic bomb.” I shrugged and took a bite of the sandwich. “This is great. What did you do differently?” Shoot, I hadn’t meant it like it sounded. “I mean, it’s usually good, but this is different and….” I knocked my silverware, and it clanged as it hit the floor. I scrambled to get it.
“Just sit down.” Betty picked up the fork and knife. “I added some dried cranberries, and I know what you meant. I’ll get you some fresh. You just eat.”
What I wanted to do was die of embarrassment. Dieter, Dante, and Beau were all looking at me. I could feel their gazes, and my face was so hot, I thoug
ht my skin was going to burn off.
When Betty brought fresh cutlery, I said, “I should probably get this to go.”
“Nonsense.” She patted my shoulder. “You just finish eating and take your time.” She glanced at the other table while I did my best to concentrate on my sandwich like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
“Florian.”
I groaned at Dante’s rich voice. I’d know it anywhere. I lifted my gaze from the Kindle as Dante walked over.
“I understand you know Dieter.” He smiled. “If you’d like to join us, you’d be welcome.”
Both Beau and Dieter were looking at me, so I couldn’t very well say no. Not after my boss’s invitation and the way I’d been caught staring at Dieter.
Betty scurried over to take my plate. “You go on over. I’ll take care of your stuff.”
It looked like I didn’t have much choice. I followed Dante to the table and sat across from him, next to Dieter. “I don’t want to interrupt.”
“We were talking about you anyway,” Dante said.
Danged if my cheeks didn’t heat again. I hoped they hadn’t seen me looking… hell, I’d probably looked like some lovesick puppy. “Me?” To my embarrassment, my voice squeaked. I hated when that happened.
Thankfully, Dante ignored it. Beau didn’t, though.
“Geez, Dante.” Beau reached to pat Dante’s hand. “You’ve scared him.” He rolled his eyes and turned to me. “What Dante and Dieter mean to say is that Dieter is here for a few weeks on behalf of the European Porcelain Arts Council… or something like that. The actual name is in German and unpronounceable for me.” Beau grinned, and Dieter scowled back but showed some amusement. It had to be an ongoing joke. “He’s here to present the studio a gold medal. And what Dante said in his clumsy way was that we were just discussing your work.”
