After blowing the entire day trying to focus on three different paintings — a beach at sunset, a forested mountain at night, and a small child crying – I eventually gave up on the prospect. Instead, I tossed my pallet down in frustration, washed my brushes, and kicked it back onto the couch.
It was starting to get late in the day. I realized that I hadn’t eaten anything, and I thought about seeing if Reiko or Will wanted to grab a bite to eat.
I vetoed Connor immediately, on account of how standoffish and jealous he’d been about the Englishman at the bar. It had been clear from the start that he was passive-aggressively furious about the perceived competition.
I really didn’t like that.
As for Reiko… I remembered that she was closing the sandwich shop tonight and working late on some payroll issues. She’d had to fire her assistant manager for trying to steal money, and that meant going through the finances and double-checking everything, just to be sure.
Oh yeah… she’d be doing that all night.
I made myself a quick sandwich to tie myself over, flicked on the Netflix, and then watched a few episodes of one of the millions of shows I was way behind on. By the time I was about done with that, it was getting pretty late, and I needed to decide whether to cook, order delivery, or venture out and grab a bite.
I decided on the latter.
Halfway towards the local Lebanese place, I felt drawn back towards the bar. I tried to ignore the sensation, knowing what was probably waiting for me there, but as I sat down and unwrapped my chicken shawarma dinner, the compulsion stood its ground.
That’s why, after I finished my dinner, I decided to say fuck it to myself and mosey over a few blocks. With a little bit of luck, I’d just pop in and out, and then immediately move on with the rest of my life.
I wasn’t that lucky.
As I’d expected, Lex was sitting at the bar in his usual spot. Some woman in a fancy dress was sitting next to him, laughing away and putting her hand on his shoulder.
I almost turned and walked out…
But he shrugged his shoulder free, glancing away. I could tell that he wasn’t particularly enjoying her company, but she wasn’t taking the hint. It was only when he leaned in with a cruel smile on his face and muttered something that she understood, pulling away indignantly.
She slapped him across the cheek, rising up from her chair and storming off.
Well… now or never, I guess.
Before someone else could try their luck, I sat down next to him. He looked honestly surprised, doing a brief double take before finally settling back into facing forward, both hands around his tumbler of liquor.
“What will you have?” He asked.
“Bloody Mary.”
He gave a crisp nod to the bartender, who wandered over our way. A few minutes later, he was dropping off a glass at my fingertips, filled with a delicious concoction of vegetable juices and liquor.
“Thanks,” I nodded towards the bartender in appreciation. He offered a quick smile before stepping away to take another order.
“I’m glad you came,” Lex told me, still facing forward. I could see his fingertips slide further around the glass, constraining it within his grasp.
“Who was that woman from earlier today? The other one of you with the English accent?” I asked suddenly.
“That was Jess.”
“Jess…” I traced the syllable with my lips. “Is she your wife?”
He actually laughed, breaking his composure to cover his eyes with his hand. “Never in a million years,” Lex smiled softly.
“Girlfriend, then?”
“Jess enjoys a good power complex. She only dates the younger folk… expendable idiots who can keep her attention for a brief while, before she inevitably expels them,” he chuckled. “Jess is the best damn friend I’ll ever have, but that’s all that we will ever be.”
“Oh,” I murmured.
It hadn’t occurred to me that she might be anything less than his lover, and I suddenly felt rather silly in the head. It wasn’t a sensation that I enjoyed, although I knew that I deserved it this time.
“So, what is she, then? Old friends? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“She’s sort of my agent.”
“Your agent? What are you, a movie star?”
“I’m not a movie star,” he replied, sipping from his drink. “I play football.”
“Football? In England?”
“It’s not your football,” he mentioned offhandedly. “You’d call it soccer. But to the rest of the world, what I play is called football.”
“I see,” I replied.
“You sound disappointed,” Lex observed.
“You’re one of those meathead sports players,” I told him. “I could never stand athletes. They’re always just so full of themselves. Always thinking they need to dominate everything around themselves.”
Lex thought on that for a moment, but he didn’t respond, which I found rather telling.
“So, what are you doing in America, then?” I asked, surprised that I even really cared. “You’re a long way from England.”
“Just passing through.”
“I think you mentioned that before,” I recalled. “And you brought your agent? On a quick jaunt through New Orleans?”
“She can never turn down a good trip. Always loves to get out of England as often as she can. She has to stay close to me, especially when I’m playing internationally.”
He suddenly looked disappointed with himself, as if he’d fumbled and revealed some major detail to me.
“You play other countries?”
“Sometimes,” he responded coolly.
“Well, you must be a big deal, then.”
Lex smiled wistfully. “Nah… just a guy.”
We sat in silence for a moment, sipping from our drinks while we thought on things.
“I heard something about a contract this morning. What kind of contract?”
“Just some promotional thing,” Lex replied absentmindedly. “Jess swung by to tell me that there’s another player that’s in the running for it, so I might miss out on it.”
“Is it important?” I asked.
He chose his words carefully.
“It’s very important to me.”
I didn’t particularly understand, but I nodded anyway. It seemed like the appropriate thing to do, given the circumstances.
“So, what do you do?” He asked.
“I paint,” I answered noncommittally.
“You paint? Any good?”
“A little,” I told him modestly.
He nodded, and the silence resumed between the two of us. I was starting to regret coming back here and seeing him again…
“I was given an academic scholarship for painting when I was younger,” I eventually added. “Had the opportunity to go on an artist’s retreat… holed myself away in a cottage in Finland for a year to study myself and my craft.”
“That’s interesting,” he replied, turning his gaze to face me. “You must be plenty good to score something like that.”
“Maybe I am,” I confidently told him. “I’ve been selling my own paintings since I was fourteen. A couple of years later, I was supporting myself entirely through my artwork.”
“Have anything up in the galleries?” he asked.
“Lots of my older stuff. My work is
hanging in a dozen galleries here in town, including some of the more respected museums. I’m a little harder to find outside of Louisiana, but some places carry my work. Some state museums in New England, a few places out west… last count? Upwards of a hundred galleries carry at least something of mine.”
Lex considered this. “That’s impressive, Riley. Now that you mention it, I can see you sitting in front of an easel… You’re good with your hands…”