Love's Rendition
Part 3
by Tragedy88
E-Mail: Tragedy88@goplay.com
Disclaimers: See Part 1.
Chapter
Three
Of
course no one was waiting or watching.
No one had even realized I'd left.
People had crashed on the sofa,
chairs and floor. Doors were open and
more people were strewn there like rag dolls, one even reclining at an awkward
angle inside the doorway.
I waded through the sea of bodies
and trash up the spiral stairs to my messy loft.
So, she wanted a portrait done. We hadn't settled on a price, but that
wasn't what was bothering me. What was?
I made a halfhearted attempt to
settle my mess as I mulled that question over in my mind.
Giving up on the impossible I got on
my hands and knees and reached under the bed.
I pulled out the original that Allison had wanted to buy.
Light from the street lamps and
businesses shone in the large windows, landing harshly on his face. They gave the painting an almost eerie
quality. As if he'd loom out of the
picture and touch me.
Where are you when I need you,
Adam? I asked the tow headed little
boy. He'd had a smile on his face the
day I'd painted him. He'd been six,
barely old enough to sit still, but I'd coerced him with promises of chocolate
ice cream and he'd sat still long enough for me to capture his innocence.
Three weeks later he would be
gone. There would never be anymore
smiles, no more laughter. No more
little brother.
I couldn't sell him, sell my past to
a stranger who had no idea the true worth of the picture in my hands. So I would have sold my first painting... so
what? Adam deserved better then to be
hung on a wall and forgotten as new paintings came along.
For a long time I silently regarded
the picture. But, for some reason the
only face I saw now was that of the enigmatic art dealer, Allison Parker.
I put the painting away and slipped
down to my underwear and T-shirt on the bed.
The woman was impossible, confusing, beautiful. That was it, wasn't it? I was blindsided by her beauty every time
she looked at me. I couldn't form
complete sentences or think for myself.
I still had a crush on her even
though I thought I knew what she was all about. A lonely, spoiled rich girl, who flaunted her wealth over
others. No, there was more to her then
that. I'd seen it myself in the depths
of her incredibly blue eyes.
If I didn't know better I would have
guessed that what she really wanted was a friend.
•••
Allison
Parker, only child of the rich and famous Doyle Parker, had never felt more
alone in her life the second Grace stepped into the limo and vanished down the
curving drive.
With a sigh she walked back down the
hallway, ignoring the portraits of her family and ancestors scattered
artistically along the walls. She
poured another whiskey on the rocks and turned the luxurious leather chair to
the window and gazed out over the manicured gardens.
Asking for the other painting had
been stupid, but in a way it had been a test.
To bait Grace? What for? Allison had seen the girl's limits, had seen
her... beautiful eyes...
She only knew she was sorry she'd
hurt the young woman.
It was a beautiful painting, a light
background of trees, flowers and sky, with contrasting shadows and the little
boy had been painted with a loving hand in vibrant colors.
It was special, Grace had said. How special? Allison wondered. So
special that the artist would turn down the opportunity for a large
paycheck? One she obviously
needed? Apparently so.
And strangely Allison respected
Grace. She'd broken people for far less
then a painting. Why had she stopped,
even apologized?
She shrugged. Doesn't matter. Shouldn't matter. She
turned cold eyes out over the gardens and stayed that way till well past
midnight before she roused herself to go upstairs and sleep.
•••
(c) 2000, Tragedy88