Triptych
Ten
MY PHONE RANG about half an hour before Lissa and I were ready to leave for my painting gig.
“I’ll drive,” Clarice started. I’d noticed she never said hello when she called. It was like joining a conversation halfway through. “Give me your address and I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”
“Uh, hi, Clarice. Lissa and I were going to drive over together. She’s my chaperone today.”
“Good. I’ll pick you both up. What’s the address?” I stumbled through the address and she hung up before I thought to ask why she was coming or to ask Lissa if it was okay to ride with her. I figured I’d better remedy that last bit right away. I went into the kitchen.
“Sweetheart?”
“Yes?” chimed both my sweethearts at once.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too,” they chorused.
“Lissa, I just got informed that Clarice is picking us up to go to the appointment this morning.”
“What?”
“Uh… Clarice…”
“I heard what you said. Why? Is this really necessary?”
“I have no idea,” I confessed. “Sometimes talking to her is like listening to music with just one earbud. I miss half the stuff I’m supposed to hear.”
“I’m not happy, Tony.”
“I know, love, but let’s at least figure out what’s going on, okay? It’s my first gig. She probably wants to make sure everything goes well.”
Lissa sat in the back seat of Clarice’s Audi. I pulled my seat forward as much as I could to give her room.
“Clarice, why are you driving this morning?” I asked. “We were practically ready to go.”
“Did you look at the address?” she asked.
“Someplace in Bellevue. I was going to look up directions.”
“Yes. Someplace in Bellevue called Medina. Someplace in a gated community of multi-million dollar homes,” Clarice said. “I did a little research. That check Sharon wrote us was nothing compared to what she and her friends could be paying. It’s no wonder she didn’t mind just paying the whole tab up-front. Her husband is among the high and mighty at Boeing. I want to make absolutely positive nothing goes wrong. I’m not slighting you, Lissa, but I’ve got more experience in this kind of thing.”
“Right,” Lissa answered shortly. It was clear she was unhappy.
“Please, Lissa,” Clarice said. “I only want what is best for Tony. We can agree to that, can’t we? Can’t we work together on this?”
“As long as you don’t think what’s best is taking him away from us.”
“That was a long time ago and I didn’t know you and Jack had married. For god’s sake, let it go.”
“Sorry, Clarice. I just never got over it. I’ll try to do better. I don’t want Tony to end up…” I turned my head and looked at Lissa, but she turned her head away.
“Would someone like to tell Tony what the hell is going on?” I asked. “I’m sitting right here in the fucking car with you.”
“Tony, there are predators in the world. Some of them are agents. Not all agents want to marry their clients… or to put a leash on them,” Clarice said with an apparent dig at Jack, but also something else was going on that I couldn’t figure out.
“Brandon Michaels,” Lissa said.
“Precisely.”
“Who’s that?” I asked.
“Brandon Michaels is a dancer who is currently residing in Spain with his mistress.”
“What’s having a mistress got to do with anything? I’m happy with what I’ve got.”
“Not that kind of mistress,” Lissa said.
“Brandon’s agent, Doña Caliente, is also his lover, his patron, and his mistress… as in master,” Clarice proceeded to explain.
“You mean he’s a slave?”
“In a manner of speaking. More like a pet. He wears a collar at all times and a leash whenever he is not working. She leads him to the theater where he is working and lets him off-leash while he is dancing. When he is finished, he comes like a good boy and she leashes him again,” Clarice explained. “The world is a strange place. I think that both Lissa and I want to protect you from some of the stranger aspects.”
“Lissa? Is that why you don’t want me to be around Clarice?”
“Yes… but not exactly. Tony, it worries me to have you under the influence of anyone. The fact that Clarice and I got off on the wrong foot several years ago doesn’t have anything to do with it. I jumped at the opportunity to chaperone today because I don’t trust what a rich woman might try to do or offer.”
“We’re in agreement there,” Clarice said. “I don’t think there will be anything untoward with Sharon Reeves. But people at her level of society sometimes don’t think the rules apply to them. I wanted to make absolutely sure you were surrounded. We can stay out of the way, but even if we can’t see Sharon while you are sketching, it is imperative that we be able to see you at all times.”
“Holy shit. What did I get myself into? And why did you not think Lissa was enough?”
Clarice looked in the rearview mirror at Lissa. I turned back to her and she was meeting eyes in the mirror.
“Frankly, I wasn’t sure that Lissa wasn’t a Doña Caliente,” Clarice said at last. “But even though she isn’t, I wasn’t sure that the client wouldn’t assume the wrong thing about her. A young man with a beautiful older woman at his side? Should be easy to take her place, don’t you think?”
“Lissa?” I said. “Can you help me make this work? I’m in way over my head here.”
“You have a handle on all the important things, darling,” she answered. “I’ll work with Clarice and we’ll keep you safe. We’ll all learn better as we go.”
Do people really keep people as pets? Isn’t that some kind of slavery? Still, there has to be something in the person that makes them want to be a servant or something. If someone tried to enslave me, what would they have to threaten to get me to obey them? That was pretty simple. Threaten my family and I’d do anything. I had a lot of learning to do.
I’d never thought of art as being a dangerous profession. When we got to Sharon’s house, it started almost faster than I was ready. A woman who introduced herself as Rebecca answered the door. She said that she was Sharon’s chaperone for the sitting. Okay. I could see that. Seems like we were setting up sides for a war, though. We went to the sitting room where Sharon met us wearing an elegant robe that dragged along the floor. Her hair was freshly done and the ghastly white streak was gone. She was wearing no makeup as far as I could tell. Well, her eyebrows did look kind of bald.
It took half an hour to decide what type of pose she wanted, how big the final picture was to be, and where she planned to hang it. We reminded her that it would also be displayed at my exhibition in the winter. She said that while she wanted something classically nude or nearly nude, that she would like to be discreet and not full frontal.
“I didn’t wear makeup. Your sketch took it all off of me last week anyway, but I already feel naked,” she said. “Do you mind if I use some foundation?”
“No, I certainly don’t mind. You should be comfortable,” I said. Lissa leaned over and whispered in my ear. I looked at her, surprised, but nodded. “If you wouldn’t mind,” I continued, “my assistant could help with your makeup. She knows what I’m looking for and is skilled in applying makeup.”
“Would you?” Sharon sounded truly excited for the first time since I’d arrived.
“Certainly,” Lissa said. “It will take Tony a few minutes to set up to do the sketch, so why don’t we get you ready?”
“I’d like to watch this,” Rebecca said. The three women went off to Sharon’s dressing room and Clarice nodded her approval.
Windows over twelve feet tall overlooked Lake Washington from the sitting room where we’d work. I estimated that any time after about one in the afternoon, the light would be too strong to pose there. All I would see was a silhouette. I was getting antsy to get started.
I set the chair and table about six feet in front of the window so I didn’t get a reflected image in the glass. I used Clarice as a stand-in for Sharon and she sat where I told her to. The chair was positioned three-quarters away from me to appear that she had been looking out the window. When Sharon reappeared, her makeup was perfect. Lissa always had a light hand when applying her own makeup and what I saw was a youthful but mature woman of means enjoying her morning coffee and looking out at the world. I showed her where to sit, how far to turn, and how to look back in such a way that she appeared welcoming. She crossed her legs and the near side of her robe fell open, exposing her thigh and calf. I suggested that if she was comfortable with it she should loosen the robe and let it fall from her left shoulder as she pivoted her torso toward me.
The result was exquisite. Her left hand held her cup and was raised enough to shield most of her left nipple, but her shoulder was bare and her back was quite elegant. Her left leg was completely exposed, but the fabric of the robe covered her right thigh and she dangled a lovely slipper from her toe. I snapped half a dozen reference photos using different lens settings on the camera to get light on her and capture the view of Seattle out her window. She reminded me of those old-time movie stars like Audrey Hepburn or Myrna Loy, even if not quite as beautiful.
I pushed my headset into my ears and blocked out the hum of voices as the chaperones and Sharon talked quietly. I did three sketches, changing the position slightly and adjusting the props to make a better composition. When I finished, she shrugged back into her robe and came to look at the sketches which I laid out on the dining table. We discussed the relative merits of each one and she chose the one she wanted me to develop.
“Do you want to come back here to do the painting?” she asked. Now that it was done, she was almost shy. I couldn’t tell if she was afraid I’d say yes or hopeful.
“It shouldn’t be necessary,” I said. “I paint from the sketch and use the photos for color reference. I think you’ll be pleased with it.”
“How long?” she asked. “Not that I’m in a rush. I just… now that I’ve done it… I want to see the results.”
“Well, it’s a big canvas,” I said. She’d asked for a painting that would be about twenty-four inches wide by thirty-six inches tall. “So I’m afraid it will take a while. I’ll stretch the canvas this afternoon, but it will take most of the month to actually get it painted and several days thereafter to let the paint cure before it can be framed. If you’d like, we can set an appointment later in the month so you can see the progress.”
“I’ll think about it. Miss Grant, did you see the progress on the portrait Tony did of you for the school while it was in progress?”
“I watched about the last hour. It was an amazing thing to see.”
“Well, I can’t hope to have as beautiful an image as you, but it was so inspiring to see. I should have done it in my twenties, but of course I couldn’t have afforded it then,” she said.
We were on the way to the door when Rebecca tugged at my arm.
“I might want a portrait myself,” she said, “if you are available.”
“I’m sure it can be arranged. Clarice is handling all the contracts.”
“I was thinking of something more intimate.”
Oh shit! This was exactly what they were talking about and Lissa and Clarice were already out the door. I edged my way quickly there, but she pressed a piece of paper into my hand.
“Really, ma’am,” I said with rising panic, “I only do paintings.”
She let go and I sprinted for the car, practically throwing my gear into the open trunk. I was in the car before Lissa and Clarice had finished their goodbyes.
“That was a little bit of an abrupt departure, Tony,” Clarice said as she started the car. “Is everything okay?”
I handed her the folded paper. I hadn’t looked at what was on it.
“‘Call me,’” Clarice read. “Did she say what she was interested in?”
“She said a portrait, but when I told her you handle all the contracts she said ‘something more intimate.’ I don’t think she wanted a painting,” I said.
“I’ll kill her!” Lissa said. She was already scrambling in her seat to go back, but Clarice had the car in gear and we were down the driveway.
“That is why we were there,” Clarice said. “I’m thinking we might want to make sure Tony always has two people with him, and we need to make sure that at least one is always focused on him and not distracted as we just were.”
“I’m thinking maybe I should just do landscapes,” I said. I was morose the rest of the way home.
The house stunk.
There was no nice way to say it. My eyes started watering the minute I walked in.
“Oh god! What is that? Melody!” I shouted.
“Windows,” Lissa coughed.
We ran through the house opening every door and window that we could while looking for Melody. We turned on the bathroom fans, but I didn’t find Melody upstairs, so I ran downstairs. The smell was worse. By this time, I’d identified it as bleach and cleaners we kept in the laundry room. Fabric was laid out on the floor in the basement and there was a huge slippery puddle of bleach leaching out the colors. Melody had the sliding doors open and was lying half outside, coughing, and crying.
“Call 911!” I yelled as I as I grabbed hold and dragged her the rest of the way out the door.
Lissa wisely came down the stairs from the deck with her cell phone in hand rather than going back through the house. Melody turned her head away from my arms and threw up.
“My fabric is all ruined,” she sobbed. “I spilled it.”
Her skin felt slippery beneath my fingers.
“We need to wash this off of you,” I said. Even outside she smelled like bleach. Lissa was talking to the operator on the 911 line. I grabbed the hose from the side of the house and turned on the water. I wasn’t sure I could make it back through the house to get soap and water. I just started running the water over her arms and hands. That caused Melody to squeal, but I held her and rocked her as I kept washing her until we were both soaked to the skin. Lissa disappeared and returned a minute later with a bottle of dish soap and handed it to me.
Sirens came into the neighborhood and Lissa ran around the house to direct the EMTs to the backyard. The first one to arrive pulled an oxygen tank behind him and had a mask on Melody faster than I could answer his questions. He pulled a towel from his kit and began drying her arms and rubbing them vigorously. The whole time his partner was talking into her phone and giving instructions and saying things like “What were you using? Did you swallow any?” I was pretty much pushed aside as they worked.
Then I got the second shock.
“Don’t come back in here,” a voice said.
Behind me firemen were setting up huge fans in the house. They wore boots, masks, and gloves and Melody’s precious fabric was unceremoniously used as a mop to get as much of the bleach off the floor as possible and then thrown into the back yard. They threw some kind of dust on the floor and used a big vacuum to suck it all up. It was pretty amazing. These guys were equipped for anything.
Lissa crawled into the ambulance with Melody and held her hand while I watched the house as it was aired out. A fireman stopped me.
“That was quite a little adventure,” he said to me. “Was that your wife? Girlfriend?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“Do you know what she was trying to do?”
“She’s an artist and was working on bleaching a pattern into some fabric, I think,” I said. “She spilled her whole bottle and I think she was overcome by the fumes while she was trying to clean it up and save the fabric. I guess there’s not much chance of that now.”
“You might tell her not to clean up bleach with an ammonia-based cleanser.” He held up an empty bottle of Mr. Clean.
“I didn’t know that!”
“Well, I’d suggest you get those rags into plastic bags. You’ll need to mark them when you put them at the curb, or call Argos Disposal Systems and see how they want to pick it up. We’re using some of the same chemicals we use when removing smoke fumes from a house and we’ll let the fans blow for another fifteen or twenty minutes. Then you should leave anything open that you can and set up your own fans.”
“We turned on the bathroom fans.”
“That’s a good start. If you don’t have any other fans, this would be a good time to buy some. You might also try an ionization filter. That will often take the lingering smell out of a house,” he said.
“Thank you. I’ll call Lissa and see if we have any other fans here. We’ve been running the air conditioner since mid-July.”
“Well, that’ll help, too. We’ll just clean up and get moving.”
“Thanks.”
I called Lissa and she told me there were a couple of fans in the garage. I got one set up downstairs and one in the kitchen window upstairs. Melody would be fine and they were likely to release her in the next couple of hours. All I could do was change into dry clothes, pack a bag for us, and lock the doors. I left all the windows open. Well, if someone decided to break in, more power to them. No self-respecting thief would go into a place that smelled like that.
Comments
Please feel free to send comments to the author at devon@devonlayne.com.
