Diva
One
WE WERE QUITE THE CREW at the Gala opening of PCAD’s student exhibition. I’d walked in with two little boys and eight stunning women. We were head-turners, for sure, but we happened to stumble in just as art critic Bob Bowers was talking to a group about our paintings. It wasn’t just about my painting. He pointed out the great interplay between it and Kate’s charcoal.
When I looked at my eyes in Kate’s drawing, I could see all the depression, the hope, the love, and the doubt I’d experienced this year. Standing where I was, I could even see her reflected in my eyes. Beneath the eyes were the shadowy shape of two fingers, pointing to them. “Look here,” they seemed to say.
I might have stood there for an hour with an arm wrapped around Kate and the rest of our entourage near us if it hadn’t been for the small voice that broke through the surrounding din.
“Mommy, I feel sick.”
With four little words our evening went to hell. They were barely out of Damon’s mouth before dinner followed them. Lissa bent to take care of him as I ran to the janitor’s closet for cleanup supplies. Mop, bucket, rags, water, and some of that foul-smelling cleanser that’s guaranteed to make anyone sick who isn’t already.
Allison managed to step out of the way of her “date” quickly enough to avoid getting anything on her. Lissa rushed Damon to the restroom and I got back to the exhibit in time to hear Drew say, “Meddy…” and then throw up in the opposite direction. Amy was not as lucky as Allison and found herself standing in a liquid lake. Melody carried Drew to the ladies’ room as I flung rags onto the mess on the floor.
“Oh god, I feel…” Amy looked faint and Sonia slipped in beside her to prop her up. Before she walked away, I managed to lift each of her feet and thoroughly wipe her shoes and toes. Sonia motioned for Allison to help her and the trio moved out of the room rapidly. I looked around. Kate had gone with Melody, so my selection of assistants had instantly been reduced to Sandra and Bree.
Bree took one look, said, “Gah-ross!” and walked away. I was surprised to find Sandra down on her knees in her evening gown, mopping up the rags and dumping them in a plastic bag. I grabbed the mop and started quickly cleaning the floor.
“Sandra, you don’t have to do that. You’re all dressed up. I can take care of it.”
“I’ve got five little brothers and sisters,” Sandra answered. “I’m used to cleaning up this kind of shit. We’ll have it all taken care of in a few minutes.”
About that time Jack arrived.
“You’re a little over-dressed for janitorial work, Tony,” he said.
“Jack! You just missed the excitement. Both boys just threw up.” He went pale.
“Where are they? Are they all right?”
“Women’s room with Lissa and Melody,” I said. Jack was gone in a flash.
Sandra and I finished cleaning up the floor and put out a “Wet Floor/Piso Mojado” sign. I wheeled the cleanup supplies back to the closet. We didn’t bother trying to rinse the rags, but just tied the garbage bag shut and I took it out back to the dumpster while Sandra held the door open so I wouldn’t get locked out. The whole thing had only taken about ten minutes and we headed for the restroom.
Crying boys, girls in formals, two guys in tuxes. You get the idea. It was chaos. The poor little guys were bad and getting worse.
“Jack, we need to get them to the doctor. Damon is burning up with a fever. How could I have missed him getting sick?”
“Both of them,” Jack said. “We should head to Children’s.”
“We’ve got the limo outside. We can take you,” I offered. Damon had grabbed one of my hands as soon as I walked through the door. Jack was holding Drew, but the younger boy hadn’t let go of Melody.
“We’ll take my car,” Jack said. “That way you aren’t stranded.”
“It’s okay. Melody and I will come with you,” I argued. Jack turned to me.
“Listen, Tony. I appreciate your help and Melody’s quick actions, too. But it’s a big night for you and you shouldn’t leave the party before it’s even started.”
“But…”
“Tony,” Jack spoke sharply, “these are Lissa’s and my kids. It’s our responsibility, not yours.” I stepped back, about ready to blast him. How dare he insinuate that I didn’t care? Lissa was my girlfriend, not his wife.
“Sweetheart,” Lissa said, “Jack’s right. I know how much you and Melody love Damon and Drew, but this is something their parents need to take care of and you should be out with your friends. Don’t forget, you’re leaving Sunday and everyone will be gone for the summer long before you get back. Help us get the boys to the car and then come back and enjoy yourselves. I’ll let you know as soon as we find out what’s going on.”
I bit back my response. Lissa didn’t need another little boy to distract her. She needed a man. Her husband. I picked up Damon in my arms and carried him to the car. Melody extracted the promise that they’d call as soon as they knew what was going on.
Melody and I walked back into the gallery. Other than the yellow sign on the floor and a lingering smell of disinfectant, the party was going on as normal. I caught a glimpse of Bob Bowers entertaining his group in front of the mural and supposed that Jack was right. I should introduce myself. We spotted our remaining dates in a corner by the punch bowl, listening avidly to Allison.
“My god! They kept me awake half the night listening and the other half imagining what had been going on!” she said to the girls’ laughter. “You should have heard him!”
“Oh they were probably just putting on a show for you,” Bree said caustically. “All fake.”
“Hey, I’ve had some experience with ‘fake’,” Allison responded. “I’d have known if it was fake. Let me tell you, if I could do that to a man, I’d charge rent.”
“Oh,” Kate moaned. “I wish I could inspire passion like that.” I looked at Melody and we both nearly choked. If only Kate knew! We made some noise and walked up to the group.
“Hey guys. Had enough excitement for the evening?” I asked casually. At least three of the girls blushed.
“Exciting is still to come, baby. I like art, but enough is enough, already,” Bree said. “Let’s go party!” She was starting to get on my nerves. What the hell was wrong with her? She raised her arms in the air and started to wiggle her hips in what I assumed was supposed to be a dance move.
“Tony, Melody, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend,” Sonia said. “This is Thor. Thor, I’ve told you about Melody and Tony.”
“Oh yeah,” he said. “You sure have. It’s nice to meet you. And I just want to say thank you for Sunday night.” Sonia blushed a very pretty crimson beneath her blonde hair and playfully punched her boyfriend on the arm. Thor. What an appropriate name. He looked like a Scandinavian god. He was a six-four, 230-pound blond—built like a rock. Thor and Sonia together looked like wet dreams for both men and women.
“Nice to meet you, Thor,” I said, letting him crush my hand in his. “What do you play?”
“Bassoon,” he replied. I looked at him quizzically. “Yeah,” he continued. “Everybody figures I’m some kind of football player. I march in the band. I’m a music education major.”
“No kidding?” Melody said. “Welcome to PCAD.”
“I’m not that good,” Thor said. “I like to play, but I really want to teach.”
“If people like you didn’t teach, kids like us would never go into the arts,” I said. “Speaking of which, I don’t suppose I could get you two to pose for me, could I? I don’t mean anything… you know… I mean kind of a classic composition… if you aren’t opposed to doing something nude.”
“You’ve already done her,” he laughed. Sonia wasn’t getting any relief from the blush that colored her. I wondered if I could capture that with paint. “Adding me shouldn’t take much,” Thor continued. Except in the amount of paint, I thought. “Hey, I tell you what. If you can get me an invite to the next posing party like the one I heard about Sunday night, I’ll pose any way you want me to. I got a blow-by-blow description, so to speak, after Sonia got home Sunday night.”
“I think that might be arranged,” I said. “It would probably make the night a little easier on me.”
“Yeah. I can imagine how hard it could get.”
We laughed. I know—but no matter how old it is, male erectile humor is always funny. I turned to the rest of the group and singled out Kate.
“Ms. Holsinger, may I ask you to accompany me? There is someone I’ve been told we should meet,” I said. Well, Jack had said I should meet Bob Bowers, but after I heard what he said about Kate’s charcoal, I realized she should meet him, too.
Kate took my arm and we walked out to the mural hallway where the art critic was working his way down the various focal points in the mural. She had one hand beneath my elbow, but as we waited politely for a break, her other hand softly stroked up and down my bicep. When Mr. Bowers came to a break and people started to move on, Kate and I stepped forward.
“Excuse me, Mr. Bowers. May I introduce Ms. Kate Holsinger? She is the artist who did the charcoal portrait you were admiring earlier,” I said.
“Ah, Ms. Holsinger. I’m so pleased to meet such a great talent. Do you have other pieces on display?”
“A few, Mr. Bowers. Nothing I like as much as the portrait. Your review this morning was very kind.” I’d forgotten all about the review. In fact, I never got around to reading it.
“Well, please give me a tour,” he said. Then he turned to me. He looked into my eyes and held them. “And I assume you’re Tony Ames.”
“Uh… yes, sir. Pleased to meet you. How did you know?”
“You are in each other’s eyes, just as I could see you in Miss Grant’s eyes in your mural painting. I hope you weren’t disappointed in what I said in the review this morning.”
“I guess I didn’t read it,” I answered. “Sorry.”
“Good! Never put stock in what critics say anyway. We’re paid to criticize.”
“We learn from criticism,” I said. “But please, I know you’ve spent plenty of time on my works, and I do appreciate the letter of recommendation Jack passed on to me. Please let Kate show you her other pieces. She’s got a pretty amazing talent.” Kate beamed at me. Damn, she looked good in her evening gown. She was wearing the orchid I’d given her last week, apparently kept fresh in the dormitory refrigerator. She was keeping a tight grip on my arm.
Mr. Bowers leaned in to speak to me in a whisper, intentionally blocking Kate from hearing.
“Tell me, Tony. Do you make love to all your models?” What the fuck? Did he just say what I thought he said? I calmed myself before I answered. It was obviously rhetorical.
“Only on canvas, sir.”
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