Free Brush Strokes by Dee Carney Page B

face. “It
would be my pleasure.”
     
    Tanya fingered the pendant often.
While it felt foreign around her neck, stroking its twisted surface
brought a measure of calm as they traversed the tile floor of the
art gallery. Her heels tapped lightly across its surface, the sound
of Joe’s sure footsteps in time with hers. They hadn’t yet run into
Mr. Killian for news of any potential sales, but meeting him was
inevitable.
    “ Do you know where it’s
displayed?” she asked Joe in a hushed voice. Maybe viewing her art
on the wall, the sense of pride it always brought, might bolster
her courage.
    “ Uh, about that…Listen, I
should have told you….”
    “ Tanya! Over here!” Mr.
Killian’s voice cut through whatever Joe had been about to
announce. She dropped her arm from within Joe’s folded one and
turned to find Mr. Killian. He drifted between the small crowds
gliding from show piece to show piece, wine glasses and dainty
white napkins in hand. Most dressed well for the occasion, while
artists like herself looked more relaxed in simple black outfits or
jeans and sneakers. She recognized most of her peers on sight, a
couple of them benefitting from Mr. Killian, too.
    “ You brought your model I
see,” he boomed from across the room. A couple of people raised
their heads, eyeing the handsome man next to her curiously. Did he
really have to announce it to everyone present? Bad enough Joe
stood out with only a handful of others in a room of people shaded
in golds, tans and browns. Located in a gentrified section of the
borough, she’d forgotten the patrons at this particular gallery
were predominantly African-American. She should have warned him up
front.
    A forced smile plastered to her face,
she said, “You two know each other, of course.”
    Her date waited until the older
gentleman was in earshot before acknowledging him with a polite
nod. “Mr. Killian.”
    “ So this is Tanya’s model,”
a woman said.
    All three turned to the person with
the admiring voice. When she met the cool hazel gaze of the woman
dressed in a white cat-suit, Tanya’s hackles went on the rise. The
warning bells ringing in her mind might have been remnants from the
fire, but based on the way her blood simmered, she didn’t think
so.
    She didn’t reek of superiority the way
some of the potential buyers did, but man, did she stink of class.
An artist, no doubt, but obviously she didn’t live just a step
above bread and water the way Tanya did. Her manicured nails,
beautifully coifed hair and elegant sashay spoke of a pampered
upbringing. Probably some daddy’s girl playing artist for now—that
is, until some other interest caught her eye and she bounded after
it.
    “ Erica Loeving,” supplied
Mr. Killian. “Do you know Tanya Combs?”
    Although compelled to offer
a handshake, Tanya smothered her urge to be professional when the
other woman didn’t offer her hand. She did, however, have to make
herself not study the jewelry studding her ears. Rocks that big
weren’t found in the local discount chain. “I don’t believe we’ve
met,” Tanya said with another forced, practiced smile. She worked
hard to remind herself any friend of
his…
    Erica sidled past Tanya to move closer
to Joe. “Yes, you would be the model, wouldn’t you? Those stormy
blue eyes and those cheekbones. Hmm…Amazing structure here.” Long,
tapered fingers brushed his jaw line. The chiseled masterpiece that
caught Tanya’s eyes as well.
    Yes. It was why she’d been drawn to
him from the start. Joe’s features begged to be etched onto paper
or copied onto canvas. Just because he looked like Adonis walking,
didn’t give little Miss Dressed-in-white a reason to touch him,
though. Yet, she did.
    “ I’ve seen her work,” Erica
went on, her hands trailing down Joe’s arm, “and I think I could do
you a little more justice. As a matter of fact, I know I
can.”
    A small crowd gathered nearby. More
patrons and artists drinking in the displays