Artfully Yours (19 page)

He nodded, strolling over, hands tucked in his pockets. “You being the inspiration and all.”

“It’s very moving.”

“I’ll say.”

“I’m not much for art. Sorry, but there it is. Kind of goes over my head.”

“I’ll say.”

Okaaay. “But he’s very dedicated. Very driven. It’s impressive.”

“Mmm. You don’t know what it is, do you?”

Shit. “Like I said, not a big art buff. My sister would probably get it.”

“Probably your sister wouldn’t want to get it.”

“Stop playing with her, Gabe,” Alex said. He sounded amused.

“But it’s fun. I’ll stop in a minute. Promise. First, may I?” He reached out and took her arm in a gentle grip. “Okay, stand here.” He positioned her, standing behind. “Bend your knees and— Hey.
Easy
.”

Alex had shoved him away, scowling. “I’ll show her.”

“Can’t believe you haven’t shown her already.”

“I like to let people respond to my art their own damn way, Gabe.” He tucked himself behind Elle, reached over her shoulder to take her chin in his long fingers and angle her head to one side. He curved over to check her eye line. “Now, bend your knees.”

“Stop messing with me—”

“I’m not. Just do it.”

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Elle did it. “I’m looking.”

“Keep looking.”

Big hulk of metal. Twisted bits. Swooping lines. Elegant curve. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“You see whatever you see. That’s the point of art.”

“A dolphin. I see a dolphin.” She didn’t see a dolphin.

Gabe burst out laughing again; then, at her narrowed glare, he pointed at Alex. “I’m laughing at him, not you, Elle.”

“Relax your eyes and don’t try to see anything,” Alex said in her ear, voice low. “Ease into it…let go of your preconceptions…”

“You ever watch that eighties Henson film
Labyrinth
?” Gabe asked.

“Yes. Oh! Is it a goblin?”

Alex’s body shook behind hers.

“I’m starting to get pissed off here,” she said. “If it’s not a goblin, what do you mean?”

“Okay. So a couple of places in the film, they used this technique, anamorphism. You know it?” He waited, expectant.

Elle had once kept a patient alive with manual cardiac massage, her hand in his chest cavity making his heart beat until the trauma team could get him into an operating room. She had assisted at emergency births. She had held patients as they died. On a daily basis, she’d dealt with complete strangers in the throes of experiencing the absolute best and absolute worst things a human being could experience. Sure, she was scared of spiders and toilet demons, but put her in an emergency and she was a superstar. She refused to feel stupid for not having had the leisure time to brush up on her fancy art terms.
Anamorphism
. “Why don’t you go ahead and break it down for me?” Elle said. “Pretend I’m an idiot.”

“No problem. Let me see. There was a sequence with a wall. Looked like a solid wall until the heroine walked up to it, and then it was revealed to be a gap and a hidden passageway. Trick of perspective. Another example, this one somewhat more relevant to Alex’s work, there was a landscape shot with some random-seeming rock formations, and as the camera panned round, they lined up to become a face.”

She remembered that bit! “Is it David Bowie?”

“Just look.”

Elle looked. She took a deep breath, tried to think of how it made her feel…a bit exposed, a bit shivery, but that was probably more to do with Alex as close as he was… Wait…she almost had it… Yep. There.

Elle stood up straight. “Holy crap,” she said and felt her cheeks turn hot. She saw it. “That’s…” She couldn’t finish.

Gabe did it for her. “Boom,” he said.

“You are such a douche,” Alex told him.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Elle wrenched away and spun to face him. “
You’re a porn sculptor?
”

Alex’s brows snapped low. “No,” he growled, taken aback.

She pointed a stiff arm behind her. “That’s pretty explicit, Alex!”

“Can’t be that explicit. Took you long enough to work it out. And it’s suggestive. Erotic. It’s not obscene.” He stared down at her challengingly.

“I like it,” Gabe said.

Of course he liked it.

“It’s a bold new direction, but I like it.” Gabe addressed his next comment to Elle. “Up to now, his work has been very industrial, very uncompromising and aggressive. Kind of an on-the-hunt vibe, you know, on the prowl. Nothing like this. Which is more of an after-the-hunt vibe. So you don’t have to worry, it’s not like there are hundreds of representations of your interesting bits out there or anything.”

Alex watched Elle’s pupils shrink with horror. Goddamn it, he was going to kick Gabe’s ass for this.

“That’s not me,” she said, her voice rising in pitch.

“Well, you’re my muse,” Alex said.

She sucked in a breath, then whirled and stretched up to slap her hands over Gabe’s eyes.

He stood there and chuckled. “Too late. I’ve seen it.”

After a moment’s hesitation, she dropped her hands. “Stop looking at it!” she yelled at him.

“If you insist. I’m going to go over here and look at this one. It’s my next favorite.” He ambled over to the other sculptures and stopped in front of one.

“Is it a rude one?” Elle asked.

“None of them are
rude
. It’s a narrative of seduction and passion, damn it.”

“It’s my butt! How is my butt a narrative?” She gave him a light shove.

He circled her wrists with his fingers, drew them behind her back and held her in place. “Elle, you’re taking this the wrong way.”

Instead of trying to get out of his grip, she stepped closer, tipping her head back to snarl up at him, “You can’t sculpt my butt, Alex.”

God, he wanted to kiss her. He angled his head down and said, a breath away, “It’s not your butt.”

She gritted her teeth. “You cannot sculpt a
very specific region of my butt
.”

“Can,” he whispered, then stole a hard kiss. “Did.”

She was gratifyingly distracted for a second, then refocused. “I don’t give you permission.”

He smiled. “I don’t need your permission.”

“I’ll contact an attorney.”

“They’ll tell you the same.” She made a noise of frustration. “Elle, I hadn’t even seen your…butt…when I did that. It’s not yours. None of these are you. Let me rephrase that. They’re all you, but only to me.”

“And to anyone else who knows I’m your muse!”

“Muse isn’t the same as life model.”

“People are still going to think it! I can’t believe you’re going to do this to me again, Alex.”

Again? What the hell?

“It’s one thing to make me the laughingstock of the entire school when I’m sixteen. It’s another thing to put me out there like this. You’re pantsing me in front of the entire world!”

Now he was getting angry. “I know you don’t get art, Elle, and I don’t care—”

“How very noble and superior of you—”

He pulled her up to her toes and glared down into her furious eyes. “But I’m not pantsing you. I’m not insulting you. This isn’t humiliation and embarrassment! This is inspiration, it’s creation, it’s passion! I am not holding you up to ridicule. I’m on my knees in worship! This is love!”

The anger snuffed out and she returned his gaze, stunned.

“And the people who know you’re my muse make up a damn small group, Elle. It’s me, you, and him.” He lifted his chin in Gabe’s direction.

“At the moment it’s the three of us,” Gabe said, as he sauntered over. “You’re going to laugh when you hear this.”

Alex stiffened. He wasn’t going to laugh, was he?

“Stephanie isn’t coming here to see you and your new stuff. She’s coming to find your muse.”

“
I’m going to kill Justine.
”

Elle slipped out of his grasp and stood for a moment, eyes wide, before she bolted.

Gabe came to stand beside him.

“Thanks, man,” Alex said.

“You
love
her?”

Alex looked at him as if he was crazy. “I’ve always loved her.”

“That’s a fucking tragedy. Or it would be, for a normal human being. Good thing you’re you, right?” Gabe clapped him on the shoulder.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Talking about how it’s a good thing you’re above caring what people think. Because if that were me? I’d be devastated if my muse was mortified to be my muse. Alex. Alex!”

Gabe’s voice continued but, with the abruptness of glass breaking, his words had stopped making sense. Alex backed up a step, hip colliding with his work bench. Tools clattered to the floor as Gabe’s voice faded and his ears filled instead with a stuttering roar.

He didn’t care what people thought about his work. They got to respond to it the way they chose. By the time they were looking at it, it was none of his damn business. Even if Elle didn’t like it, if she loathed it, he didn’t care. But until Gabe had said it, he hadn’t heard what she meant.

It wasn’t the work she loathed. She was mortified to be the inspiration for the work. Mortified.

To be his muse.

To be his.

He shook his head, and his hearing rushed back.

“Get a grip, man, come on,” Gabe was saying. “Shit, you never take anything I say seriously. Stop staring at me like that—
you’refreakingmeout
. Alex!”

“Yeah.”

Gabe took a breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He bent down slowly, started picking up his scattered tools.

“I was messing with you. It’s fine. You know that, right?”

“Mmm-hmm.” He held his welding gloves in a slack hand.

“She’ll be fine with it. Give her a bit of time. Do the whole flower-chocolate-diamonds thing. Hold a boombox up in the rain. Pick a cliché. She’ll understand.” Gabe reached out and smacked him on the shoulder again. His palm flattened on Alex’s bicep, then he snatched it back. “Shit. You’re cold.”

Alex stared into Gabe’s eyes and watched the whites grow around the dark green irises.

Gabe turned to the doorway. “Gargoyle! Get in here! Daddy needs a cuddle!”

“Jesus, Gabe. I’m not his daddy.”

“You’re in shock. You’re cold. What is
wrong
with you, suddenly developing a vulnerable spot? You’re supposed to be invincible. You’re not supposed to give a fuck.” He poked Alex again. “Why are you cold? You’re never cold.
Gargoyle
!”

“I’m not in shock. And Gargoyle won’t come in here. He knows he’s not allowed into my workspace.”

“All right.” Gabe opened his arms wide. “Man hug. Let’s go.”

“I’m not hugging you.”

“Yes, you are. This is happening. The human touch is a healing thing, Alex. Quick hug. Two seconds. Just for reassurance.”

“I don’t need reassurance.”

“For me. I need reassurance. I’m a monster. Feel like I spanked a puppy.”

Alex drew his gloves on, picked up his torch, and ran through the pre-lighting safety checks. “A hint, Gabe.” He struck the flame. “Don’t ever try to spank me.”

Gabe dropped his arms, eyeing the torch. “What are you going to do? You’re not going to get dramatic about it or anything, are you?”

“No.” Alex turned to his masterpiece, contemplated it for a second. Then he said, “I’m going to destroy it all.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“Okay, I’ll bite,” Jenny said. “What is with you tonight?”

They were sitting on the couch in the living room in flannel pajama pants and T-shirts, with the kind of reality TV Elle hated and Jenny adored playing onscreen. Elle realized with surprise that the volume was way down. It wasn’t loud to start with, since it was late and Katie was in bed, but Jenny had turned it to nothing more than a faint background hum and was staring at her.

“What’s up?” Jenny asked. “Was the date not good?”

“No, no. The date was good.”

“Was the sex not good?”

“No, no. The sex was outstanding.”

“Liar. Outstanding sex, by definition, means you’re still smiling twenty-four hours later. Yet here we are and—” she gestured at Elle’s face, “—I see a glaring absence of smiles.”

Avoiding her gaze, Elle looked instead at the old trunk they were using as a coffee table. A tatty old steamer trunk Jenny had saved from Mrs. Thompson’s hoard, stripped and scrubbed and bleached and cleaned and announced was the new table. It worked. Quirky, but worked. Comfortable, too. They’d both stretched out their legs and propped them on the trunk. Jenny’s pants leg was rolled to the knee to show her once-white cast had now been doodled all over with colorful flowers and butterflies and a cute baby dragon. Another week, and it would be off.