Blake
Nothing can dampen my mood today, not even the rain I hear belting against my windows. The wind is grabbing the shutters and rattling them, threatening them, but they don’t give in.
Storms have been raging all day.
Nothing wrong with a good storm, storms in my opinion leave the world washed and refreshed. The air has a clean smell to it and world does look washed. Except for my windows. Rain tends to leave them looking a little streaked.
I make a mental note to organize a window cleaner in the next few days, along with getting a new cleaner.
Much to my disappointment, my cleaning lady informed me yesterday that she’s leaving.
Camilla’s great. And I introduced Camilla to Katherine because I know the two will get along really well and most important of all, Katherine would not be jealous of Camilla.
It’s not that my housekeeper wasn’t attractive. She is, and probably more so back in her day. At fifty-four, she’s still a stunner, just not someone I would be getting involved with. But now, she’s leaving. She’d said something about her daughter needing her to babysit.
I put domestic thoughts aside. Camilla will still be here for another month. Maybe she’ll be able to help me get a replacement.
I stroll into my studio to look at my collection of new paintings and I smile. I like them, no, I love them. They are better than anything I have created before. Ever.
Part of me wants to call Katherine and get her to come and look at them. I really would want her to be the first person to see them, but that would go against my plan.
I’ve come up with a special way to thank her. I owe her a lot, after all. I know she would not agree and she probably does not even realize how huge a role she’s been playing in my creative genius coming back to life.
Before I make the call, I grab a pen and paper to make a list. I walk from painting to painting, jotting down possible titles, background notes and random twirls and doodles.
Sometimes I think well in pictures and not so well in words.
Words. It strikes me as almost an omen how right we are for each other. Katherine, a writer and me, an artist. We are meant to be together.
After I’ve completed my list, I gather the works of art carefully and gingerly. I handle my pictures the way a mother cradles her baby. In a way, they are my babies.
I need to make sure Katherine does not see these next time she comes over.
It’s a great feeling knowing Katherine can just come and go as she pleases since I gave her a key to my place the other day.
Her face was priceless, a mixture between overwrought, disbelief and pride.
It is a big thing for me too. I’ve never given anyone else a key to my apartment.
And not just the key, I made sure to select a special key ring to go with it. I wanted her to think of me each and every time the key was within her sight.
It took an enormous amount of time. Silly really, but when I get an idea into my head I need to see it through.
When I didn’t find anything close enough to what I had in mind at the local shops, I consulted the mighty World Wide Web. I wanted a painter palette and canvass. Eventually, several hours later, I found one in sterling silver.
I ordered it instantly. I didn’t even flinch when the order form confirmed I had just paid two hundred and eighty five dollars for a key ring.
And of course I had been rewarded several times over when i gave it to her.
Not only was she totally touched by the gesture of the key, when she spotted the key ring, I swear a little tear formed in the corner of her eye.
The kiss I got, and the sex, more than made up for the money spent on it.
It takes me a few minutes to drape the stained cotton throw over the paintings. Maybe I better make it a little more difficult to get here by placing an easel in front of it.
When I’m done I pick up the phone. Time to call my agent.
“Hey Mateo, how are things?”
I can’t hear a response. I stare at the screen. The clock is ticking so I know I’m connected.
“Mateo, you there?”
“Blake. Blake. My man, what’s happenin?” Mateo’s voice booms through the phone and I move the mobile a little further off my ear.
“Mateo, I’ve been painting.”’ Maybe I should have invited him to come over instead of a phone call?
There’s loud laughter. “You’re a painter Blake. What else would you have been doing?”
Good old Mateo, always straight to the point.
“No Mateo, this time it’s different. I’ve really been painting. I’ve been creating and…well, the paintings are good. Really fucking good.”
“You never were modest, my friend.” Mateo replies dryly.
I chuckle.
“True. But wait till you see what I’ve been creating.”
“Let me guess, nudes. How many of them have you been fucking this time? I hate to think of all the broken hearts.”
“Mateo, they’re not nudes and I haven’t been fucking them as you say. I’ve met this woman. Katherine. She’s amazing. She’s gorgeous. She’s sexy.”
“And she’s a good root,” completes Mateo.
“It’s different with her. I haven’t had another woman since I’ve met her. I can only think of her. I even dream of her. I want her all the time. She’s doing things with me no other woman has ever done before.”
“She a witch?”
Another chuckle from me.
“Stop it, man. Anyway I want you to organize an exhibition. It’s going to be bigger than anything I’ve ever done before. I want you to spare no money. Invite anyone and everyone that matters. Alcohol, good food…wait, get the chefs from the Old Pearl to cater, they know what they are doing. Spare nothing. Go all out. And Mate…?”
“Yes my friend?”
“I don’t want Katherine to find out. She can’t know. Under any circumstances.”
“Hope you know what you’re doing.”
A noise makes me turn around. I see Katherine, her eyes looking hurt and confused.