The Broken Canvas

by Tai Barnett

  He carefully took my legs and placed them unto his lap.

  “Hmmm…very manly looking? And these are the words coming from an Oscar Award-Winning Screenwriter?”

  “Huh well, if I had said that you were a ravishing proto-type of a man, a walking aggravation of virile pheromones…I am afraid what that might start.”

  Andrew smiled.

  “And there you have it ladies and gentlemen, Miss Natasha Bishop, best Screenwriter in Hollywood…who becomes more beautiful each day, by the way! Oh and that dress…wow! It’s mesmerizing! It’s making everything pop so effortlessly!” Andrew said while he sighed.

  I was twirling my hair with my index finger which I usually did when I was drunk.

  “Flirting with me are you, Mr. Kingston?”

  Of course, he was, and I was enjoying every minute of this ‘preamble foreplay’.

  “Well, I think it’s within my rights to flirt with the woman who belongs to me, besides, let them look and assume all they want—”

  My eyes widened as I giggled a bit. I loved it when he showed his possession of me.

  “Oh, I belong to you…how primitively put!”

  And lascivious and torrid was my thing. “That is if I were into you sexually, which was very, very exceedingly rare in my case.”

  I looked at him and desired him even more right at this moment.

  Then I found myself drifting away into thoughts, into those damned fantasies again. I was considering that every time this man, this young boy, somehow managed to besot me into his arms and into his bed. He very well knew my sentiments about love and relationships.

  Andrew gently placed my feet onto the floor and moved his well-built body towards my lips. As I gasped, waiting for his moist and glossy lips to touch mine, he quickly diverted to my left ear.

  “Now, as much as I enjoy the lavish elegance and pampering of celebrity life, I would rather take you back to my hotel room, take you out of that stunning dress and literally remind you why the universe brought us together—” he whispered.

  If his sensual British accent wasn’t enough to get me flushed, his erotic and arduous baritone voice, while looking into my eyes when he uttered those last words, were unquestionably enough to get me wet.

  I took a quick knock back and finished my drink in one gulp. Andrew grinned as he looked at me from head to toe.

  I eagerly took up my purse but then stopped and suddenly looked at him with a blushing smile. I was trying to get him even more anxious.

  “How could I say no to that? Although…we could stay on a bit longer?” I said while gazing into his eyes and teasing him even more.

  Andrew stood and took my hand.

  “Why do you love provoking me? You know what I will do when we get back at that hotel if you continue to do so,” he whispered again in my ear.

  I giggled while looking around if anyone was watching or listening to us. So, I was provoked by Andrew that I never saw that Brody was looking at us from his table.

  I grabbed my shoes, trophy and gifts. Andrew put one hand around my waist as we proceeded towards the exit.

  “Andrew, please remember, we are not a couple in public.” I muttered. I was so nervous that someone would finally confirm that we were dating.

  We continued towards the exit.

  “Listen darling, it’s OK. I understand. Now would you please stop talking as I am desperately trying to get you back into the hotel room…” Andrew said.

  I sighed and smiled blissfully while looking up at him. I loved knowing he wanted to have me so badly when he could be with literally any one of these beautiful, much younger girls.

  As we left the table and hastily headed for the lobby, Brody, dramatically, appeared out of nowhere, intercepting our romantic getaway. The Scottish heartthrob stood scowling in the middle of the lobby. His eyes were unblinking as he looked down at my five feet six inches inebriated, barefooted mass of helplessness.

  Please Explain

  “I don’t know how you could be leaving when I am certain that you saw me looking at you from across the room Natasha!” said Brody calmly with his arms folded. He continued to look down at me darkly.

  Shocked at Brody’s appearance, Andrew and I looked at each other unprepared of how I would respond.

  “Oh…well, I didn’t want to disturb you…you know. You were doing your celebrity thing, meeting and greeting everyone…”

  While I tried to make up a million and one reasons why I ignored Brody, it was obvious that he was looking at my dress and now staring at my figure and bosoms, which made me extremely uncomfortable.

  Yes, I know it sounded juvenile, but I am a proud woman in her forties and am still insecure about my body. And Brody was now triggering all these insecurities inside of my head.

  “So…I was going to say hello and well, I am a tad bit drunk. Why are you staring?”

  Brody looked at the tightness of my gown and how it hugged every contour of my body. But for some reason at that moment, although he was still very furious at me, I was looking stunning to him.

  He sighed and folded his arms while looking at me.

  “You look a bit different, that’s all…” he said gently. Not wanting to give me too many amorous sounding compliments in front of Andrew.

  “Contented and glowing you mean? Or I don’t have such a huge ass anymore?”

  Brody looked at Andrew and was obviously becoming agitated. Andrew’s inherent confidence was unwavering as he stared into his eyes without any visible apprehension or worry.

  “Well…you lost a bit of weight, but you were always gorgeous…but that’s beside the point—” Brody groaned in agitation.

  “It seems I am no longer the only award-winning celebrity anymore, congratulations by the way. And listen, we need to talk. Right now, as a matter of fact!” Brody said sternly.

  Just when I was about to start peeing myself or maybe just running into the opposite direction, like a gallant knight, Andrew stepped in front of me and stretched his hand toward Brody for a shake.

  Feeling aggravated and still very angry, Brody’s expression turned into a painful scowl. He tried to uphold his composure, but his fury was noticeable and edging from behind his narrowed eyes and tight lips. He reluctantly but arduously shook Andrew’s hand for wanting this to proceed as quickly as possible.

  “Hello, Brody. I am Andrew King…”

  “Yes, Andrew Kingston. The new British actor that is creating a buzz in the industry. Loved your work in The Robot Spy, by the way,” Brody said. His voice was raspy and cocky.

  “Well, thank you, I am a fan as well. I was about to take her back to the hotel. As you can see, she is a bit frazzled,” Andrew said while coolly glancing at me and smiling.

  I exhaled and looked into the air as I stood between these two titans; the father of my child and my boyfriend. I needed another drink, quickly!

  I started handing over my things one by one to Andrew. “You know what? It’s OK, Andrew. I will meet you at the entrance. I am sure this won’t be long.” I figured that one very brief conversation with Brody couldn’t hurt.

  Andrew paused for a few seconds while he looked at both of us, “Oh, OK. If this pleases you. See you later. I will be waiting in the limo. Brody, it’s been a pleasure to meet you…” Andrew said while he gently took my purse and gifts and kissed me on the cheeks.

  Brody feebly rolled his eyes as Andrew walked away.

  “Ah, yes. The pleasure is all mine, lad. Have a good one!” Brody’s voice was screaming condescension.

  I watched as Andrew walked away, leaving me with the person I now confirmed was oftentimes ambiguous but certainly a womanizer. Nevertheless, a cold sexual fiend of a man. But it was time.

  Brody looked at me, rubbed his rugged cheek and sighed. He placed his hands by his hips and sneered.

  “So, are you two…like dating or something? Isn’t he like 30 years younger than you?” He asked sarcastically

  “Thirty! Oh, he is just ten years younger
than me by the way. Oh, please! Brody, why don’t you just ask me what you really want to ask me?” I held my trophy and shoe to my bosom.

  “Oh, you know exactly why I am here, Natasha! Do not play games with me. Stop pretending that you have no idea what all of this is about?” He said while he started pacing back and forth.

  “Well, if you’re referring to that time in Scotland…”

  “Oh, cut the crap…” he exclaimed while offering me a big plate of his Scottish expletives.

  Holy crap. Now he was cursing in Scottish jargon. He stopped pacing and walked over to me. He seemed even angrier and agitated, “You knew that this was the one thing, the single miracle that I always desired, a child. We discussed it. You know my mother and father dreamt about it. Why on Earth would you keep it from me? And you didn’t think I would have been bound to find out with our careers? It’s not like you’re not in the media every other week?” he pointed his finger at me, “You’re damn crazy!” he said in undertones.

  “Well, that’s just great. You mean compared to you, who is so nobly milking cows in some South American country for the poor orphans or in the Caribbean with some new hot thing.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake woman…is Charles my child or not? Because I have been doing some thinking, you know, and unless there was someone else at the time, it had to be me,” Brody exclaimed.

  And there it was. The question I have been dreading the most since Charles was born.

  I looked at him and sighed, “OK, OK. Charles is your son, Brody.”

  He held his head with both hands and smiled then covered his mouth peering into the distance. If I didn’t know better, I thought I even saw his eyes becoming full. But remember, Brody was the lecherous spawn of Incubus. We all know that that is as impossible as it is laughable. This man was incapable of crying as his tears had dried up long ago, along with his heart.

  “Now, please calm down. I decided not to tell you because…well, you’re Brody Banister, playboy, dating the gorgeous model Mariska, and God knows who else.”

  He looked at me, sighed, and shook his head. “But why didn’t you just…say something, respond even to one of my many texts. After that night you just…”

  “Brody, please! Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it? And what difference would it have made? It’s not like you are some saint. The entire world knows about your gluttonous craving for women…” I looked at him strongly while folding my arms. “It’s such a pity I had to learn the hard way.” I mumbled in undertones.

  He stared at me without a blink but decided not to respond to my murmuring. And like usual, I was trying to figure out what he was thinking why he chose to remain silent.

  “I thought it would ruin your career and image, and well, I mostly did it for me and Rose. And I realized that no matter what happened in Scotland, no matter how wonderful and compelling it might have been, you were never going to settle down. You know what I went through with Rose’s dad! I, just for once in my life, wanted my moment of selfishness. I thought that if I just kept it to myself, things would be better for the both of us…”

  “Well, you’re wrong! How dare you…!” Brody exclaimed.

  But before Brody could finish projecting any more anger, I saw his mother walking briskly towards us. I met Brody’s gentle and caring mother, Mrs. Elaine Banister, almost three years ago in Scotland.

  “Brody! Oh, there you are, dear. I was looking all over for you…” yelled Mrs. Banister dolled in a beautiful beige gown, as she slowly came closer. Brody’s mother was average height and thin with very compelling eyes. “Natasha…is that you, dear?” she asked.

  She came over and gave me a warm hug and kiss. I was feeling even guiltier now. Why? Well other than the fact that I hid her grandson from all of them for almost three years, I had left Scotland without saying goodbye to any of them.

  “Congratulations on your Oscar win, love! Well done! So now…” Her eyes looked at me sharply.

  “Do I need to beg you to take mi grandson to get to know his father and his father’s side of family?” she said while folding her arms.

  “Well I…” I was speechless while looking at Brody, giving me the expression of ‘Are you going to lie to my mother now too?’

  “Oh, it wasn’t a question, dearie. It was an inexcusable act if I might say so myself, but I am sure you have good reason. A good mother usually does. But now, here’s your chance to make things better. We will be making preparations for you, Charles, and Rose to stay at our house during the summer…” Mrs. Banister explained. She looked at Brody. “Brody. You’re expected to be there as well…” she said smoothly and almost staring him down.

  “But mother, I have an interview and should be in Italy around that time…”

  “Now listen, Brody. I don’t care where you have to be! This is your son, your only child, that we are talking about. I looked at every picture of that little boy from the very first one was published, and the rumors started spreading about you and Natasha. As I looked into those green eyes, I knew instantly that he was a Banister. Now…I refuse to die without spending enough time with mi grandson…”

  “Mother, you’re not going to die for now! You’re as healthy as a horse,” Brody said.

  “Oh, death will visit us all someday, son, whether you’re ready for it or not! Now, you’re no longer children anymore! Especially you, Brody. It’s time you both started acting like responsible parents and started thinking what is in the best interest for both these children.”

  Vernon’s Southern Spread

  It was turning noon in Druid Hills. The Pink Flamingos relaxed their willowy and powdery foliage in the warmth of morning light, while beams from the dancing sunlight pierced in between the Azaleas and summer sun shines, dissolving the dewdrops from the day before.

  The 26-year-old canvas extended out on wooden frame stretcher was placed on a four feet aluminum easel. I positioned it right in the middle of my private backyard alongside our large wooden table which was custom designed using one of the cedar trees from the surrounding woodlands.

  I could smell the rustic and pungent fragrance of pouched sardines and black coffee aromatizing the entire backyard. Pouched sardines served with wheat crackers, onions and habanero pickles was my favorite breakfast meal that Vernon had to prepare no matter what the occasion.

  Luckily for us, we lived a good distance away from neighbors and were separated by huge Scarlet Oak and Sourwood trees, a few Sweet-bay Magnolias and miles of lush, immaculately manicured deep green lawns. We could be as loud, obnoxious, or have as much ethnic food scents as we wanted without offending anyone.

  The back terrace was all concrete neatly and cozily designed with a quaint little area for relaxation on the concrete benches and wooden chairs overlooking the exterior of the 1920s neoclassical Georgian designed house. The three acres property was surrounded by native plants, trees and colorful flowers in clay flowerpots enclosed and nestled by a heavily wooded area.

  It was the perfect day to work on my painting and to indulge in one of Vernon’s renowned New Orleans and Southern spreads of deep fried oyster po’ boy, grilled Andouille with red beans and rice, beignets, fried chicken and cornbread.

  I sat right beside Michael, my very flamboyant and always sublimely dressed gay cousin, who was selecting fabrics on his laptop for his next exquisite interior design piece. Michael was the most loyal, forgiving and respectful gentleman that you could ever meet, and he played a huge part in my life. He was a proud and confident man who wasn’t afraid to show the world who he really was.

  Still, some prefer to live in a more ‘Puritanism’ type of existence. I say to each his own. But, just take a look around, the world is changing. People are just people connected by shared experiences. Nonetheless, we are all beautifully unique in our own ways. To negate anyone’s reality does not destroy it. We can either be civil and choose to all live in peace and harmony or continue creating this bigoted and evil world that we call home.

  I don’t know
about you, but I think life could be more wonderful for all of us if we chose to be far more empathetic and heart-centered. Wouldn’t you agree? I could never understand why your hate or disapproval should stop you from loving or even respecting anyone. Plain and simple, my cousin was one of my best friends and was a damn good person who had the heart of an angel. And if anyone had a problem with that well, let’s just say my courageous alter-ego took over and there would be hell to pay!

  But, enough with all the serious talk. Today, was a beautiful day. The table was flawlessly arranged with Vernon’s dilatable cuisines. He brought out all the finest China and silverware from the kitchen while Michael made a relaxing and enchanting display of floral arrangement as several miniature centerpieces.

  Using an old broken-down pointed tip brush, I made a few controlled washes while filling in the small areas of the two children’s faces unto the long over-due piece which I have been working on since I moved back Atlanta.

  As I feathered in the effects of the cloud with a fan brush, I looked up into the sky and noticed that it would start raining soon. Just the indirect signal I needed to once again delay painting my masterpiece.

  I placed the brush unto the easel brush holder while Vernon brought a platter of beignets and placed it on the table.

  “Natasha, hun! Your breakfast’s ‘bout ready. Now, y’all had better start eatin’. You don’t wanna be late! That make-up artist and designer you bringin’ in from California will soon be here. I am gonna get da coffee and sardines…” yelled Vernon while walking back inside.

  Vernon was my housekeeper for the past ten years. He was average height, slender and had bleached blonde hair, which he claims until this very day is his natural hair color. Although, we all knew otherwise. But his hair and his good looks were very important to him as was his pocket mirror. His slipped back, retro roots hair cut was always pristinely presented. He loved his denim and loved wearing simple white t-shirts around the house. Though whenever we would go out, you would never know what to expect from such a fashion-conscious neat-freak.