Love's Rendition
Part 2
by Tragedy88
E-Mail: Tragedy88@goplay.com
Disclaimers: See Part 1.
Chapter
Two
Starbucks
was impossibly busy for a Saturday night, nothing but standing room left. Would I even be able to find her in this
mess? What time was it? Was she even here yet?
The rich aroma of coffee tingled in
my mouth. If I had two nickels to rub
together I'd be tempted. If they had
plain coffee that is...
Out of the crowd a dark head
appeared.
Someone pinched my ass and I turned
to find a pimple faced boy leering at me.
My lip curled up in a snarl and I pushed past him, seeking out the dark
head I had seen only moments earlier.
The boy followed me. I tried to suppress an angry growl but
couldn't help it. Forget Starbucks, I
cursed as the boy caught up and tried to harass me again. As I shoved through the entrance door I
bumped into someone coming inside.
"Excuse me," I hissed, and looked up into icy blue eyes. "Oh, I'm sorry." I took a hasty step back, right into the
goosing fingers of Pimple Boy.
He chuckled and pinched harder.
I whirled on him, momentarily
forgetting Allison was there. "You
little chraa, don't touch me."
"Who you talking to,
bitch?"
I ground my teeth together. "Bitch?" I hissed, "You touch me again and I'll drag your face across
the pavement, then throw you on the streets for the garbage trucks, and even
they won't want to touch you when I'm done."
He sniffed and spit on the ground at
my feet. "Big words for a-"
It was all I could take. I dropped the portfolio and slapped him
across the face. Ok, so it wasn't the
smartest thing to do, especially in a Starbucks but I'd had enough of this
city, enough of these little chraa's.
His hand was pulled back and he was
going to hit me, but before he could a long, tanned arm broke my vision and
caught his wrist securely. I could feel
her strength behind me, the warmth of her body and I didn't hear what she said
but she obviously shook the boy enough to make him leave.
I couldn't move as she turned and
her chest brushed against my back. I
blinked blindly up at her when she took my shoulders and twisted me so I was
facing her.
"Are you all right?" Allison asked, studying my face.
"Fine. Sorry." I picked up my portfolio with shaking
hands.
"How about we go down the block
to Salisbury?"
I shrugged out from under her
hands. "Sure." I turned and
went out the door, brushing past her and mumbling, "I didn't realize
Starbucks would be so crowded. I'm sorry." We left, the smell of fresh coffee beans lingering in the air for
an entire block.
"Don't be sorry. It's this way."
I felt her hand touch my elbow as she
guided us down the sidewalk.
The streets and the sidewalks were
filled with the late afternoon crowd, people shopping or trying to find cabs to
go home. I let her hand rest on my arm, her warmth something I hadn't felt in a
long time.
Salisbury was crowded too, but they
seemed to know Allison there and after a short wait we had a small booth by a
window.
"Come here often?" I asked, trying to fight off my remaining
anger and nervousness.
"Once in a while." Allison smiled.
I smiled back, slowly relaxing and
enjoying myself. That is until I took a
look at the menu. My eyes widened at
the prices. A starving artist, even
with a waitressing job couldn't afford a glass of water here. I gulped down the knot in my stomach and
folded the menu back up.
"Ready, ladies?" the
waiter asked. He had a deep accent and
dark skin. Young and ambitious. Another artist? Not starving? Should I
ask if they had any job openings here?
"Why don't you give us another
minute." Allison smiled one of her
dazzling smiles at the waiter.
I watched as he blushed slightly,
nodded and walked off to another table.
"Are you hungry?" Allison asked. "They have a great sampler platter-" she broke off abruptly. "What is it?"
"Allison, I can't even afford
to get water here." God, I had
just admitted the truth to this dazzling, beautiful woman. Oddly enough my usual blush when mentioning
my money status didn't surface.
"Well, how about my treat? Anything you want... " Allison paused. "Uh, you know, for letting me see your portfolio?"
My eyes narrowed suspiciously. What would she want for buying dinner? What would I owe her?
"Please?" Allison asked softly. "It's the least I can do for dragging
you to Salisbury without even thinking."
"How about a Pepsi
then?" I called a truce to my
anger and suspicion, it was just too tiring.
"Pepsi
it is then." Allison motioned the waiter over and I ordered a Pepsi while
Allison ordered the House Sampler Platter.
"Will
that be all, ladies?" He smiled at
the both of us, lingering just a little longer then necessary on Allison.
"That's
all for now, thank you." Allison
chuckled as the young man left the table.
"If he manages to bring the correct order I'll be rather
surprised."
"He
wasn't all that bad." I grinned.
"Besides how hard can it be to remember two Pepsis and a
sampler?" I asked reasonably. I'd
never had any trouble. But then I'd
never waited on anyone like Allison Parker before either.
"You
never know when a boy starts thinking with southern extremities. Notice he didn't write anything down?"
I'd
noticed. Now I just smiled. "He
was enamored by your beauty." I
nearly choked on the words and a blush crept hotly up my neck.
Allison
gave another low chuckle and just smiled.
"So, what have you got in that portfolio for me?"
Ok,
on to business. "They're
reproductions," I admitted.
"I don't carry the actual paintings on the subway. I've had things stolen before."
"Oh,
that must have been terrible."
"Yeah,
three years of work down the drain and the little chraa probably trashed them
when he found out they weren't worth anything." I shrugged away the feeling of hate I still carried after that
incident.
"I
was wondering what chraa means."
"Huh?" I looked up from fiddling with the white
linen napkin.
"Chraa. You've said it twice now. I've never heard it before." Allison's eyebrow arched in an expression of
curiosity.
I
found it oddly familiar. "It's
Arabic."
"You
speak Arabic? Damn, I barely comprehend
English." Allison's voice held a
touch of awe.
I
laughed at the absurd image of me speaking a foreign language. "Not a chance, but I do know about 50
or so curses in varying languages."
"Oh
really?"
The
waiter came over with the two Pepsi's and I waited till he left before I spoke
again in Arabic. "Boos teezee." I watched for the confusion to enter her
eyes and smiled mischievously, knowing she didn't understand a word of what I'd
say next. "Nek ni. Yel-la, anasi!" I purposely softened the harshness of the
syllables.
"Wow,
that sounds... beautiful," Allison
murmured.
I
couldn't help it, I laughed so hard I had to clutch my sides.
"What?" Allison's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "What did you say to me?"
"N-nothing,"
I stammered around the laughter.
"I just told you to kiss my ass."
"Nek
ni?" she asked.
Laughter
threatened again. "No, no... boos
teezee is kiss my ass."
"What
is nek ni then?"
"Um,
I think that's best left for some other time." I sobered instantly as the waiter set the sampler down in front
of Allison.
"Come
on," she insisted. "What does
it mean?"
Damn,
I was so comfortable with this woman that I'd gotten carried away and backed
myself into a corner. My smile slipped.
"Well,
it doesn't matter. Here." Allison passed a chicken wing over.
"Try one of these, they're great."
I
took the chicken, hiding my relief behind a large bite. Mmm, it was
good. There was a small time of silence
while we ate. I was glad Allison was
sharing. Without saying a word she had
moved the candle and flowers aside and set the platter in the middle of the
table.
Dinner
was finished and I still hadn't shown my portfolio. I should just go home. I
couldn't make small talk, I couldn't do anything right.
"What
do you say we get out of here?"
"Sounds
good, thanks for dinner." I picked
up my portfolio. We walked to the exit
together and I waited to say my good-byes.
Allison
picked at the wood on the door frame, then dropped her hands to her sides. "I'd still like to see your paintings,
Grace. Would you like to join me for a
taxi ride?"
"Where
to?" I asked wearily.
"My home? I've got some drinks and we could get away from this
noise." Allison waved at the noisy
people and honking cars.
Oh
what the hell. I ignored the tightening
in my chest. Ignored the flaming lust
coursing through my body. Just a drink,
I reminded myself, just to see my paintings. I shrugged. "Sure."
Allison
hailed a taxi with a sharp whistle. We
were on our way. I watched the city
fade away to the lush and expensive 'burbs.
My eyes widened as we curved up a long drive and stopped under a
portico.
I
exited the taxi in awe, waiting for Allison to pay the cabby. "It's beautiful," I said, looking up at the large bay windows,
the turrets and marble. Marble columns,
marble staircase...
"I
inherited it from my parents," Allison said evenly, not even glancing at
the impressive architecture as she climbed the marble stairs to the large
double doors.
I
followed at a more sedate pace, clutching my portfolio like a security blanket.
The door opened, revealing a maid and a wide
expanse of staircase and a crystal chandelier.
I stopped in the open door, mouth wide open.
Allison turned, an unreadable
expression on her face. "Come on
in. Vella won't bite."
Vella didn't smile.
There were no laugh lines around her
eyes, even though she was maybe only a few years older then me, and I wondered
if the dark haired Mexican woman ever laughed.
As I stepped further in Vella made a
move as if to take my portfolio. I
shook my head and clutched it to my chest.
Vella backed off and shut the doors.
She stood as if waiting for something, then left when Allison gave her a
curt nod.
Allison headed to the back and I
padded silently after her. We went down
the large hallway and through a door to what appeared to be a den or
library. It was richly furnished in
mahogany and deep red-brown hardwood.
The shelves were full of classic novels, medical books, lawyer's books
and I found myself wondering if they were real or props.
I went to the closest bookshelf
while Allison made her way to the large desk and the high wet bar off to the
left of it.
"What would you like to
drink?" she asked.
"Mmmm, whatever you are having
is fine." My fingertips traced the
spiral bound spines and I tugged one out.
It was real. I was beginning to
think they were all real and that the paintings in the hall had been real and
not reproductions.
Allison came up behind me, handing
me a whiskey on the rocks.
"They're all real."
I turned wide eyes on her, a blush
creeping up my neck. "I
know."
"So, why don't you bring that
portfolio on over to the desk and let me have a look?"
I laid the portfolio down, unzipping
it nervously, then I sat back in the chair on the opposite side of the
desk. I didn't touch the whiskey, just
swirled it around with my fingertip, waiting anxiously as Allison flipped the
plastic covered pages.
After a short time Allison looked up
and I met her deep gaze. "You have
all the originals?"
"Yes." I couldn't tear my
eyes away until she broke contact with a small nod and flipped through the rest
of the pages.
Carefully Allison shut the portfolio
and leaned back in her chair. She took
a long pull of the whiskey. "It's
a tradition in my family to have a portrait done on our twenty-fifth
birthday."
It certainly wasn't what I'd
expected. Surely she'd pay well, even
if that didn't seem to matter at the moment. What surprised me was that such a
wealthy woman was only twenty-five. I
remained silent, waiting for her to finish.
"I'd like to commission a
portrait." Allison leaned forward,
resting her elbows on the desk and steepled her fingers on top of the
portfolio.
"All right," I managed to say in a steady voice. "When
do you want me to start?"
"My week is way too busy right
now, but I should have time available this coming Saturday." She paused.
"How much time will you need?"
"How good do you want it to
be?" I felt a smile edging my lips
and tried to stay calm and professional as I set the whiskey glass on the edge
of the desk.
Allison flipped the portfolio back
open. "As good as this
one." She found the one she wanted
and tapped the plastic cover.
I leaned forward, wondering which
one it was. Damn, how did that one get
in there? I thought I took it out. "That one took me three weeks," I
said smoothly, not even blinking, but feeling panicked just the same.
Allison nodded, shut the portfolio
once again and leaned back in the chair.
She swallowed the last of her whiskey.
"How much?"
How much what? I shot her a blank, startled look.
"How much to do the portrait
and how much for the one already done?"
Damn. "That one's not for sale." I shifted nervously in the thick cushioned seat. My feet barely touched the floor and it made
me extremely uncomfortable.
"5,000," Allison said, as
if she hadn't heard me.
"I said it's not for sale." I tried not to grit my teeth. I would never sell that painting. It's all I had left of him.
"Very well." Allison
stood. "If you won't sell the painting then I won't need your
services."
I stood abruptly, my lower lip
shaking. I squared my shoulders and
grabbed my portfolio. "I will not
be bought, Ms. Parker. Good
night." I stormed to the door.
"Grace."
Allison's soft voice stopped me in
mid-stride. "Yes?" I didn't turn around, couldn't let her see
the anger flashing in my eyes.
"Wait." Allison paused. "Please?"
"I have nothing left to say Ms.
Parker, except that the painting is not for sale." My voice quavered.
"Allison," she murmured.
I turned to look at her then. Nothing on her face had changed. It was impassive and unreadable. That should have annoyed me, but somehow it
didn't.
"I'd still like you to paint
for me, Grace, even if you won't sell me the painting."
I blinked. This woman was so confusing.
I felt like I'd run a 500 mile marathon just by having drinks with her. "What if I don't want to paint?"
"Then I'll take you
home," Allison replied instantly.
Was that sadness? "I didn't say I wouldn't paint," I
admitted.
"Then you will?"
"This Saturday, after
work. If you still want me to."
"I do." Allison smiled. "What time?"
I had the morning shift. "After five."
"I'll send someone to pick you
up." Allison returned to the desk,
flipped through a desktop calendar and grabbed a pen. "Where do you live?"
"I'll be here at
six," I returned coolly. This was going to be on my time. Not the whims of a rich and spoiled woman.
Allison returned the pen to the pen
holder. "Fine." She nodded, a small frown furrowing between
her eyebrows. "I'll walk you
out."
We walked down the hallway in
silence, till we reached the door.
"I'm sorry about how I acted
before," Allison murmured.
I looked at the double doors then up
to her face. "Don't worry about
it."
"Why won't you sell the
painting?" Allison asked.
I sighed. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Vella silhouetted in the
doorway. "It's the only one I
have."
"Surely you can paint
another?" the wealthy woman asked.
"No two paintings are ever the
same. As a dealer you should know
that." Or I would at least hope
so. The money proved she had an eye for
art anyway.
"Yes, I do know that."
"Besides, it's special," I
said quietly.
Allison nodded, seemingly satisfied
with the answer. "I can have Ed
drive you home?"
It was a question this time. "Thank you. It's a long walk to the nearest subway." I smiled weakly.
"I'll see you on Saturday
then. If my schedule gets rearranged,
as it frequently does, I'll call you and schedule another time."
"All right, see you
then." The limo was waiting when I
stepped out the door. The limo? Geez, if anyone was watching for my return
they'd get an eyeful and I wouldn't hear the end of it for weeks.
•••
(c) 2000, Tragedy88