The Examination

(Lawson)

I hang my car back, not wanting to be seen. Yet. Skye parks her car and gets something out of her trunk. It looks like a painting, which makes sense, I assume she’s dropping it off at the gallery.

While I wait for her to go inside, I send a note to my assistant telling her to check with the gallery to see if they have any more pieces available to buy yet.

When Skye vanishes inside the gallery, I pull my car past hers and find a spot a little ways down.

From here I have a clear view of the gallery. I wait in the car, watching for Skye to come out. The plan is to intercept her on her way back to her car and convince her not to return to Kelso’s.

She’s been inside for what seems like too long. For all I know, the gallery owner lives upstairs and she’s having dinner with him.

Relaxing back in my seat, I occupy myself by sending work emails while at the same time keeping an eye out for her to return.

I worked from my home office today, which I do as often as I can, so I’m just wearing jeans and a black T-shirt instead of the suit she thinks changes me.

Twenty minutes later, she comes out of the gallery, balancing a pile of items and struggling even more than when she went in.

I hop out of my car into the noise of the passing cars and rush her.

“Skye, let me help you.” Her arms are overloaded with supplies and I start taking them off her.

“Hey, fancy seeing you here,” she says.

“I was just picking something up and saw you come out of the store.”

“Sure you weren’t stalking me?” My eyes widen briefly but when I look at her, she’s smiling. I breathe a sigh of relief to see she’s only joking around.

“Maybe I should, then I’d be here to help whenever you get into trouble.”

“Oh? Do I get into trouble often?” The packages redistributed, we walk toward her car.

“I don’t know, do you?”

“Not until I met you.”

“Oh, it’s all my fault, is it?”

“Guess it is.”

“Must be because of all my money.” Skye stops walking but I keep going.

“I… about earlier… I didn’t…”

“Didn’t know who I was and would’ve kept your beliefs secret from me if you’d known?”

“No,” she says, hurrying to catch up to me.

We reach her car and she opens her trunk. She loads her items into it, lining them up neatly.

“Is this car roadworthy?”

Skye stops what she’s doing and looks at me. “Excuse me. It’s the best car I can afford.”

“I know, I know. Some people can’t afford a Maserati.”

“You drive a Maserati?”

“Primarily. Out of all my cars, I think it sounds the best.”

“You pick your car based on how it sounds? You’re a real piece of work, you know?”

“I can’t help it, my money makes me a prick. What am I to do?”

She sighs as she takes the last package from me. “Your money doesn’t make you a prick. I’m sorry I said that before.”

“Does that mean we’re still on for dinner tomorrow?” Skye stands aside and I close her trunk.

“If you still want to have dinner with an anti-poverty artist like me.”

“Skye, I like that about you. You’re a million times better than someone like Freya.”

“You mean someone who’s only after your money?” She spins around and leans on her trunk, her arms folded across her chest.

“It’s more than that. You tell me what you think instead of what you think I want to hear.”

A smile spreads across her face and she tilts her head. “Really?”

I shrug. “Sure, it’s refreshing.”

“Let me see your arms. I’ve been dying to look at the art.”

“It’s kind of dark out, you probably can’t see much,” I say, but I offer her my arms anyway.

Skye reaches out and takes my left hand, touching me delicately, as if I’m hot from the oven. My fingertips rest in her left palm. Her eyes squint in the dim streetlight and her fingers trace the various designs on my arms. Her light touch tickles, but I don’t let on.

By the time she reaches my bicep, her chest is rising and falling rapidly with her breath. She reaches the edge of my T-shirt, glances up at me, and runs the fingers of both hands over my pecs.

I sense some trembling, but I remain motionless, watching her as she examines me.

When she reaches my right arm, she edges her body closer. Even outside, I smell the mix of flowery shampoo and paint on her. I close my eyes and inhale.

Skye holds my arm with one hand and resumes her exploration of my tattoos with the other.

“Is this the Laughing Cavalier?” she asks, pointing to the top of my forearm, “I can’t tell in this dim light.”

I laugh. “You’re good.”

She looks up at me with a coy smile, “You don’t dedicate your life to art and miss that sort of thing.”

There’s no way I can resist her any longer. I hook my arm around her and pull her tight against me. With my other hand, I smooth back her long hair from her face. She’s shivering.

“Are you cold?” I ask.

Her eyes wide, she sucks her lips between her teeth and shakes her head.

“You’re shaking,” I say. I rub my free hand up and down her back, trying to warm her. Or relax her.

Skye leans her weight into me and rests her cheek on my chest. I tilt my head down, nuzzling into her hair.

It doesn’t matter that we’re standing at the side of the road. I kiss her hair and then trail kisses over her head. With my free hand, I mesh my fingers through her hair and tip her face up to me.

Her lips are slightly parted, which is all the encouragement I need. I lean and crush my mouth against hers. Our tongues explore each other’s mouths the way her fingers had examined my arms: gently, slowly and thoroughly.

I could stay here all night, at the side of the road with Skye in my arms.

A car honks its horn as it passes us.

She pushes back from me at the noise. Skye glances at her watch and says, “I have to get going.”

“What’s the rush?”

“I have to get in a few hours of painting tonight.”

“Do it tomorrow.”

“I can’t. I have to work at Kelso’s all day.”

“You’re still going back there? You need to quit that job.”

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“I thought I told you about him. Trust me, he’s bad news, just wait and you’ll see, but it’ll be too late for you.”

She shifts her weight and says, “I know Kelso’s a creep, but it’s fine. Besides, he’s going to be in Florida tomorrow anyway.”

“As long as you’re sure. I can hire you an assistant so you’re never alone with him.”

“Now you’re just overreacting.”

“Trust me, I’m not.”

“Did you just put your suit back on?”

“Are you calling me a prick again?” I can’t help but laugh.

“Yes, but I’ll still let you take me out tomorrow night.”

“I’m paying now, am I?”

“Unless you want to eat frozen pizzas at home.”

“And here I thought you weren’t interested in my money.” I have to admit I like the idea of eating at home, since it would just be the two of us, with clothing optional.

“See you tomorrow,” she says, getting in her car.

I close her door and say, “Tomorrow.”

Skye starts her car and pulls out into the road.