“Obviously.”
Zachary’s tone was dry. He rolled his eyes at himself and changed the subject.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to-“
“Sure, you did.” Zachary gave
“You’re welcome.”
“Did she ask you out?” Zachary steamrolled over whatever
“I…she…*what*?”
“You look a little poleaxed.”
“I feel it.”
“Eh.” Zachary gave a careless shrug of his shoulders. “Just tell me what
happened, already.”
“She showed up at my place, on your orders, on Friday morning with a stack of
files thicker than your skull. I helped her review them, we talked a little,
and then she asked me to Linda’s exhibition.” Tyler saw Zachary flinch at the
idea of an exhibition. “I understand you’ve been to a couple.” His tone was
mildly mocking.
“I have, and I’m never going again.” Zachary couldn’t help but glance behind
him at the mini-sculpture that Linda and Precocious had bestowed on him. “But
you have a great time.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Tyler sighed and raked a hand
through his hair. “Does she have some sort of Freudian complex where her father
is concerned that I should know about?”
Zachary was half-tempted to make a very politically incorrect joke that would
lead to years of therapy, but his better angels won out. “Morris is a solid
guy. Precocious adores him, but I’ve never seen it displayed in any
uncomfortable way. They’re close, and she’s never considered the idea of him
being in and out of her life like he has been has made him any less of a
father. She has a dad, Tyler. She’s not looking for a substitute.”
“Then why-“ Tyler cut himself off, but Zachary knew what had been coming.
“Because she *likes* you, man. She was raised by the queen of the hippies. Very
little ever fazes her, let alone something as untrustworthy as age.”
“Untrustworthy?”
Zachary shifted in his seat, just mildly uncomfortable. When Precocious had
approached him about asking Tyler to the exhibition, his first response had
been along the lines of, ‘he could be your father’. Precocious had given him a
look that could freeze a lesser man’s soul and informed him that he was an
idiot. “Precocious doesn’t trust numbers as a rule. She especially doesn’t
trust numbers that can cause more problems than anything else.”
Tyler was confused. “What? If she doesn’t trust numbers, why does she know the
‘Ransack’ numbers so well?”
“Because she doesn’t trust them. She doesn’t trust them, so she makes sure she
knows them. She’s willing to give the benefit of the doubt to numbers that have
a reason behind them, but there are numbers she’s never understood. She
understands numbers that show production levels and costs and profits. She
doesn’t get age as a number. She doesn’t think it represents anything
important.”
“Did she drop acid as a teenager?”
“I don’t think her mom is that kind of hippie.” Zachary smirked at the worried
look Tyler was wearing. “She’s not going to claim you’re *not* 43, she just
doesn’t understand what your being 43 has to do with how you are as a person.”
“O…kay.” Tyler tried to wrap his mind around the idea of someone ignoring age
as a relevant piece of information. “I have no idea what to say to that.”
“Most people don’t.” Zachary waved it off. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just
trying to help you understand how someone with the actual ability to be
attractive could like you.”
”Oh, you’re a funny guy.” Tyler’s voice was a bit amused. He changed the
subject before he could get teased any further. “What do I wear to this thing?”
“Do you want to blend in or not?”
Tyler had a sudden image of himself in a black garbage bag secured with duct
tape. “I just want to be comfortable.”
“Slacks and a business shirt will be fine. Don’t wear a tie, though. There’s
always some nut at one of these things that walks around with scissors and
clips the ties off.”
“This is going to be torture, isn’t it?”
Zachary shrugged. “It’s not horrible, but it’s not my scene at all. I like art
well enough, but I don’t like having conversations with people about art that
lead to stories about how they created a sculpture after smoking the lining of
banana rinds for two days.”
Tyler winced. “Can you *do* that?”
“I didn’t stick around to find out. That was about the time I made myself scare
behind a sculpture and escaped.” Zachary ignored the look Tyler through the
miniature sculpture that was up on his shelf. “If all else fails, abuse the
free bar.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Tyler stood up to leave. “I better get out of here.
Julia’s lawyer is supposed to call today to bitch at me for not paying my
alimony check on time.”
“Isn’t that your accountant’s job?” Zachary stood as well and walked around his
desk to see Tyler to the door.
“You’d think so.” Tyler shook his head and accepted the pat on the back from
Zachary. “I’ll see-oh, Precocious wanted me to show you how the intercom system
works.”
“Don’t bother. I know.” Zachary grinned a little maniacally. “I just pretend I
don’t know for the cheap thrill of pissing her off.”
“You’re an evil, heartless bastard.”
“Only sometimes.” Zachary opened the office door and gave Tyler another pat on
the back. “Good luck with the shark.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you later.” Tyler walked into the front office and smiled
quickly at Precocious. “Have a good day.” He immediately gave himself a mental
kick to the head for such a cheap line. He scuttled around for something else
to say. “Do you know what time the exhibition opens on Friday?”
“Linda says we should get there about six-thirty, so we can do the appropriate
bragging about being close, personal friends with her. She said you could
stretch the truth.” Precocious yanked a post-it free from its pad and scribbled
an address. “Do you know where that is?”
Tyler glanced at the paper. “Didn’t this used to be a hardware store?”
“Yeah. It got converted into a gallery when the hardware store changed
locations. If you want to just meet me there, that’d be great. I’m going to be
helping with set up, so meeting me anywhere else is kind of pointless.”
“I can do that.” Tyler folded the post-it, sticky side in, and tucked it into
his pocket. “So, if I’m busy the rest of the week, I’ll see you Friday.”
Precocious smiled and gave a little wave. “Bye.”
Tyler left the office to face the horror that was Julia’s attorney, but for the
first time, he didn’t particularly care about the whole idea.
*
“I can’t-“ Precocious paused to heft a painting onto the wall, “believe I help
you with this every time.” She kept it balanced while one of the handymen that
worked for the gallery made sure the picture was secure on the wall.
“It keeps you in good shape. You should be thanking me for saving you money
from a gym membership.” Linda was settling a group of small paintings into a
hexagon pattern along the opposite wall.
“You’re implying that I would ever go to a gym, which we both know,” Precocious
paused to take a deep breath and lift another painting, “wouldn’t happen even
if the devil himself offered me a free ride.”
“And if God offered?”
Precocious shrugged as best she could while holding a twenty-pound canvas. “Eh.
You know my feelings there.”
Linda laughed. “Some day I’m going to paint the whole idea you have of
believing in the devil but not so much in God.”
“The Devil and Ms. Grant?”
“Something like that.” Linda finished positioning her last picture and stepped
back to look at the whole design. “Is it crooked?”
“If it is, claim it was done for artistic purposes. Half the people who show up
for this will be snooty enough not to argue.” Precocious paused in her lifting
and stretched her arms above her head. "Is it me, or has this week gone by
really quickly?"
"I haven't really noticed. My day are all screwed up thanks to the lack of
sleep." Linda yawned as if to punctuate her point.
"I just feel like someone stuck an asterisk in after Monday afternoon and
skipped me ahead to right now, you know? I don't think I could tell you what I
did this week."
"We're not characters in a book, Precocious. You've just been a little
occupied with thoughts of a certain guy who's going to show up here
tonight." Linda grinned mischievously and poked Precocious in the ribs.
"Are you going to let him get to first base?"
Precocious rolled her eyes. "You're impossible an hour before a show; do
you know that? You turn into a twelve-year-old." She walked behind Linda
and grabbed another painting. "Are you going to help me hang the rest of
these or slack off in the corner?"
"I'm tempted to slack, honestly." Linda grabbed a canvas as she
spoke, throwing off her belief in her own words. "We've only got these
last four, and then we can take a break."
"Like your going to take a break." Precocious spoke with a large dose
of disbelief. "You don't take a break. I'm going to finish hanging this
one, and then I'll go change, and when I get back, you'll be moving everything
to the left or right a millionth of an inch because you won't think it's
properly placed."
"Probably." Linda got her canvas on the wall and went to work getting
it straight. "What are you wearing tonight?"
"The medium little black dress." Precocious stopped the heckling she
knew would be coming from Linda. "My other stuff is dirty. I haven't done
laundry in three weeks."
Linda wanted to argue. Linda wanted to tease Precocious about what a girl she
was being about the whole Tyler thing. Unfortunately, she knew from the fact
that *she* hadn't done laundry in three weeks that Precocious was being honest.
They always did laundry together. It cut down on the boredom of the chore.
"You look good in that dress."
"That is kind of the point." Precocious sounded a little embarrassed
at herself. She was rarely such an obvious girl. She lifted the last canvas to
the wall and waited for the handyman to get it positioned before letting go.
"I'm going to get cleaned up." She dusted paint chips off of her
hands and walked towards the back where the private bathroom was situated. The
manager of the gallery let Precocious use it since she was in the gallery
nearly as often as Linda.
"Don't be too girly. I want to be able to recognize you when you get out
of there." Linda, true to form and Precocious's prediction, started
walking around the gallery straightening her paintings a miniscule bit one
direction or the other. She dismissed the handyman with a quick thank you and a
smile and started putting away the extra hanging accessories that were
littering the floor. She heard the front door of the gallery open and looked up
to tell whoever it was that they weren't open yet. She paused when she
recognized Tyler. He was standing in the threshold and looked just a wee bit
nervous. "Hey, Tyler."
He whipped around from staring at some sort of abstract of a possible cow and
gave a slightly shaky smile to Linda. "Linda, hey." He looked around,
as if not sure what to do with himself. "I'm early." He said it like
it was a bad thing.
"Not terribly." Linda wiped her hands on her overalls and gave the
room a quick survey. "You can hang out here for a few minutes. I've got to
go change, and Precocious is in the back. I'll tell her you're here."
"Thanks." Tyler wasn't sure what to do with his hands, so he shoved
them into his pockets. Linda walked off, and he started a circuit around the
room, getting a feeling for the paintings in the gallery. It was obvious to
pick Linda's paintings from the collection on the walls. They were all bright
and vibrant. A few he could recognize as solid objects. There was a window
scene, an empty kitchen with dirty dishes, and one that looked vaguely like
Precocious. There was a total abstract that he somehow knew was a
self-portrait. Something about the streak of purple in the painting told Tyler
he was right.
"Tyler, hi."
He spun on his heel and had to swallow hard to keep from complimenting
Precocious into some sort of ego complex. She wore a knee-length black dress
with wide straps and a slit up one side. She had her hair twisted into a bun,
and she was wearing very tall, very spindly shoes. There was a little makeup on
her eyes and cheeks, and she had a thin silver bracelet on her left wrist. Down
her right arm was a set of neon streaks. They looked both proper and improper
with the rest of the outfit.
Precocious followed Tyler's gaze to her arm. "I have Linda do it every
time she has a show. She used to paint neon stripes on me when I asked back when
we first met. It's a show of support." She gave Tyler a very non-discreet
once over. He was wearing black slacks, a blue shirt, and black shoes.
"You look great."
"So do you." Tyler couldn't believe he'd used such an unclassic
opening line. "I mean-"
"Don't worry about it. I think the paint fumes make us all say weird stuff
sometimes." Precocious smiled. "Are you sure you're ready for
this?"
"Well, I haven't spotted any statues engaged in sexual acts, so I think
I'll be okay." Tyler liked Precocious's laugh. "Is this exhibition
only for Linda?"
"Yeah. Usually, she shares the space with someone else, but the gallery
wanted to do a show exclusively for her. There are a lot of tourists in town
this time of year, and they all like to come to the gallery. Linda's the most
mainstream, non-offensive artist that the gallery knows of, so they thought an
exclusive show would not only let the tourists see a local's work, but they'd
see it without being horribly offended by some of the things the other artists
in town might come up with."
"Like giant sculptures caught in the act of oral sex?"
"As a 'for instance', yes." Precocious smiled and felt herself relax
a little. She had been a little nervous about the whole idea of the date, but
Tyler seemed comfortable around her even in the gallery, and it made her feel
more at ease. "Do you see anything you like?"
"Trying to butter me up to buy something?"
"Wouldn’t dream of it. Besides, if you know Linda long enough, she starts
gifting you with paintings that she doesn't know what to do with."
Tyler chuckled at the idea and allowed Precocious to start explaining various
paintings to him. He didn't notice as other people started to filter into the
gallery and would have been content to ignore him if an icy voice that made his
blood curl up and die hadn't interrupted Precocious's rather amusing tale of
how an abstraction of a barn ended up looking very much like the work of mental
patient on very severe drugs.
"Tyler, hello." Julia's voice was icy as only the voice of a
well-bred society woman's could be. There was practically frost on her lips.