The Genius and the Muse

  Lydia stood on shaky legs and looked around. As she took in the wreckage of Reed and Sam’s combined work, her heart broke. Only Sam would ever take a knife to the scattered canvases she saw around the room. Though she could see evidence of Reed’s temper in the torn photographs and broken lights, he would never have lifted a finger to damage Sam’s work.

  Lydia walked toward the storage room where she kept all her finished canvases of Reed. Despite their ongoing joke, Lydia had always known her friend would never sell them. Though she never said it, the agent knew the paintings were Sam’s love letter to him. She painted him over and over again as the years passed, capturing tiny scars and subtle changes in her lover’s body that only she would ever see.

  As Lydia pulled the door open, she felt as if she had been punched in the chest. Tears finally fell down her face as she surveyed the devastation at her feet.

  They were all ruined. Some lay on the floor looking as if they had been stepped on, and others lay broken against the walls, their frames cracked and splinters visible, poking out at odd angles.

  In the far corner, she saw one painting that seemed intact, covered by a white sheet. She walked toward it and reached up to pull the sheet off the last intact canvas.

  It was unfinished. Faint pencil marks were visible beneath some of the smudges of oil, but the outline was complete enough that Lydia could see it was a rendering of the torn photograph Sam had started months ago and never finished. It looked like a piece of abstract art; the angles of the bodies were clearly visible, but their arms reached around hollow bodies that would never be filled in.

  She left the painting in the storeroom, re-covering it with the dusty white sheet before she walked back out to the main studio. Reed had moved to the small table where they often shared meals. He sat hunched over, pushing around the pieces of the photograph, trying to nudge them into some sort of order.

  She sat down silently, and heard him speak in a hoarse voice.

  “Did she call you?”

  Lydia shook her head and spoke in a soft voice. “No. Susan did. She’s in California.”

  He nodded, seemingly unsurprised. Lydia looked around the room, taking in the torn photographs of his lover. Pieces of Sam’s face lay scattered around the room, creating the illusion of some strange black and white collage.

  “Reed—”

  “I kissed a model.”

  She stared at him in astonishment, stunned silent for a long moment.

  “You mean she kissed you?”

  “No. I kissed her.”

  “What? What the hell, Reed?” Lydia felt like crying again. “Wh—what were you thinking?”

  He just shook his head silently and stared at the door to the reception room. “She walked in and saw me. She saw me kissing that girl on the platform. And the white sheets…” he whispered in an anguished voice as he leaned his elbows on the table, clutching his hair. “And the light was just like…”

  Lydia cleared her throat, trying to pull herself together. “Reed, why would you do that? Why would you even—I know how much you love Sam. And you know how she’s been lately.”

  He shook his head. “I know. It was so stupid. This girl was just there. And she was laughing at some joke one of the make-up people told. For a minute, it seemed so simple. She was happy. She was so happy. And I just… kissed her. And as soon as I did, I realized it felt wrong, but then I heard her. And I knew she saw.” Lydia had to strain to hear him. His hands were clenched into fists. “It’s broken, Lydia.” He lay his head down on the table, defeated as he let out a shuddering breath. “It’s so messed up. Everything’s broken, and I’m so tired.”

  She moved to sit beside him, laying a hand on his back. After a while, Lydia felt Reed’s chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm as he slept fitfully, his head resting on the scarred table.

  Lydia rose and went to the kitchen to get a trash bag. She didn’t know what to do with all the broken pieces of art; but she could at least clean up the glass in the corner where the lights had fallen. She worked methodically, stepping outside to call Susan and let her know what happened, as best she could figure it out. According to her Susan, Sam had asked after Reed, heard Lydia was going to check on him, and then fallen into an exhausted sleep.

  Lydia worked for hours cleaning up glass, clearing off the platform, and picking up the smallest pieces of torn photographs and broken canvas. The larger pieces of both she placed in the storage room, not sure what Reed might want to do with them, but not wanting to throw anything away. She swept and dusted, calling various people to cancel shoots, and rearranging her schedule so she could take care of her friend.

  Reed had been sleeping for almost three hours when she finally heard him sit up, knocking over a bottle of water she had set on the table next to him. The water spilled over the torn pieces of photograph before it dripped on the floor, and Reed stood up, staring at them in confusion before looking around the studio.

  “Lydia?”

  “Yeah?”

  He rubbed his eyes, obviously still half-asleep and confused by her presence. “Where’s Sam?”

  Lydia swallowed the lump in her throat before she answered. “She’s in California, Reed.”

  He looked around, confused before his eyes settled again on the scraps of the torn photograph. His fingers touched them and he collapsed in the chair, defeated. Tormented eyes met hers when he whispered, “It wasn’t a dream.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Pomona, California

  July 2010

  The warehouse was empty without her.

  Okay, it would never be really empty, but though Kate had done her best to remain unobtrusive over the previous four weeks, Javi had become used to her quiet presence as he went about his days. She slipped in and out of the warehouse like a cat. Sometimes, he would hardly know she was there, except for the odd six pack of his favorite beer that appeared in the fridge, or the uncharacteristically tidy kitchen.

  He sat sketching at the table, distracted from his commission piece by the subtle curves of the design he was working on. It would work best in wood. Something light and very fine-grained. Basswood? Linden? He furrowed his eyebrows as his finger traced along a distinctly feminine curve he had drawn. His pencil paused for a moment before he threw it down and closed his sketchbook, frustrated by his preoccupation. His eyes landed on a lens cap she’d left on the table.

  You’re an idiot, Javi.

  It was getting ridiculous, distracting, and Javi had no idea how much longer he would be able to stand it without lashing out at Kate for something that was entirely his own fault. He knew she didn’t intend it, but her quiet presence in the warehouse had started to make him lose his focus. The way she muttered when she was thinking aloud. Her intense stare that caught him at the oddest moments. The little frown that grew between her eyebrows when she was concentrating. He had no idea what to do about his growing attraction to her, and it didn’t look like she was leaving anytime soon. Why had he offered his studio to her?

  Because you’re an idiot, Javi.

  His phone rang on the counter, and he went to pick it up, grabbing a beer from the fridge, even though it was only midmorning. Reed’s name flashed on the screen, and he and he touched the answer button.

  “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

  He twisted open the beer and took a long drink as his friend spoke from the other side of the country.

  “Oh yeah? She’s meeting with Lydia today?”

  Javi paused again.

  “No, I called her, too. Vanessa and I both. And probably Bradley. She’s good— No really, man. The girl’s got that… thing, you know? Kind of like you.”

  Javi laughed at his friend’s sarcastic remark. “Well, if Lydia doesn’t scare her off, maybe you should talk to her.”

  He sniffed and began strolling through his mess of a warehouse, enjoying the rare conversation with his oldest friend.

  “I think… you never know, Reed. Maybe… how long has it been? I don
’t know, man.”

  He rolled his eyes as he spotted a small light kit Kate had left set up near a stack of rebar. He quietly began packing it away to put with the rest of her equipment in the back office.

  “What? Yeah, I like her. She’s a nice girl and a good artist.”

  Javi cleared his throat and scowled at the phone. “Yeah… sure she is. Shut up, Reed.” He paused for a few more minutes and ran a rough hand over his jaw. “I can’t just ask her out.”

  He walked to the back office with the light kit, almost tripping over a pile of concrete blocks Kate must have set up as a prop. He stopped to answer his friend’s irritating question.

  “What the—are we in junior high or something? You want me to pass her a note in homeroom?” He paused for a moment. “It doesn’t matter okay? I’m not asking her out.”

  He yanked open the door the small room, noticing that Kate had set up a little office one of the empty desks left by the previous owners. Some of her work was spread out in binders and loose pages scattered the surfaces.

  “I can’t, all right? Besides the fact that she’s gorgeous and I’m kind of an ogre, she’s twelve years younger than me.” He paused, not really listening to his friend’s lecture on the other end of the line as he thumbed through some of the proofs Kate had set out. They were the beginning shots of the self-portrait series she was doing.

  She was so beautiful. That wild hair just killed him. He scowled when he heard Reed’s annoying question.

  “Besides, she’s too much like you. It’d be creepy. Like dating my best friend, only twelve years younger and with tits.”

  Javi snorted when he heard Reed’s response. “Asshole.”

  He continued to look over her work, absently fingering a hair tie she had left on the desk, noticing the golden-red hair that had twisted in it. He scowled when he realized how much he liked seeing evidence of her scattered around the building.

  “No, man… if she’s meeting with Lydia this afternoon—I don’t know. Maybe talking with her might help. Even if it’s just you.” Javi cleared his throat. “Besides, then you can tell me what you think of her, you know? That way when you give me shit, you’ll know what the hell you’re talking about.”

  He twisted the tie in his fingers before he put it in his pocket as he walked out of the room, shutting off the lights behind him.

  “Yeah? That’s good, man.” Javi paused before he continued quietly. “Uh, no, I haven’t seen her lately. Not for a while. Maybe Dee—”

  He paused, listening to Reed’s interruption. “Yeah… no, I get it… sure.”

  Javi walked toward the kitchen to grab a pack of cigarettes. “I will. Take care, okay?”

  He stood in the middle of his kitchen for a moment, his heart aching for his friends. He’d tried over the years, but they were both so damn stubborn. And they still loved each other so damn much.

  “Bye, Reed.”

  Sitting down, Javi picked up a cigarette and lit it before his hand reached for the pencil. Then he opened the abandoned sketchbook to start tracing again.

  Part Nine: The Genius

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  New York City, New York

  July 2010

  Kate’s first impression of the elusive Reed O’Connor in person was that he was very… quiet. And tall. His dark, curly hair was cut short, and she could see a sprinkling of silver at the temples. A dusting of stubble covered his jaw. He wore a simple pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt. She somehow expected him to be wearing black, even though it was the middle of July.

  After introducing himself in Lydia’s office, he politely invited her to his studio a few blocks away if she wanted to talk privately. Giving Lydia a quick glance, she rose and left the office with the familiar stranger. There had been no anger on his face, only a quiet and sad kind of acceptance.

  He walked brusquely in the summer heat, and Kate almost had to jog to keep up with him. He put on a pair of dark sunglasses and kept his head down as he walked in front of her, and she noticed that, despite his stature and handsome face, no one seemed to give him a second look.

  They ducked into the dim exterior office of his studio, where an empty desk sat, holding only a box of tissues and a half-full pencil cup. Reed opened the rear door, revealing a large, naturally lit loft studio. She followed the quiet man inside and looked around. The left side had been walled off with dividers to create what could have been a small living area, and the right side had all the paraphernalia of a working photographer’s studio. Light kits, chairs, and drapes were spread around in a strange sort of interrupted still life.

  It was warm inside, though she could hear the soft gust of the air-conditioner. Kate lifted her eyes to the sunlight streaming through the windows of the loft. She was surprised to see so much natural light in the studio, as it created a less predictable environment to work with for a photographer.

  He noted her eyeing the large windows and smiled.

  “When we picked this place, I told Sam those windows were going to drive me crazy. Natural light can be so unpredictable.” He chuckled. “She loved it though. She did most of her work here too, and she always liked having that light.” He fell into silence again, and she saw him fidgeting with his keys and rubbing his jaw as he looked around the loft. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in several days.

  Kate looked around. “Do you live here now?”

  He frowned. “I have an apartment in Brooklyn. The same one, actually, but I work at night so much… “ He gestured to the large windows. “Avoiding the light, you know? I put a bed and a couch here so I didn’t have to wander home at three in the morning.” He shrugged. “So, yeah, I suppose I live here.”

  He wandered over to set his keys in a beautiful ceramic bowl which was sitting on a table near a small kitchen area, and Kate jumped at the opportunity to look around at the walls of the studio which were littered with a personal tour of the mysterious Reed O’Connor’s world.

  A beautiful blue sari hung prominently on one wall; its silver thread caught the afternoon sun. She noticed a color picture of Dee hanging near it, captured in a group of laughing women. The woman at the center of the color photograph was elderly, and her laugh scribed deep recesses around her mouth as she looked into the camera. She was flanked by Dee on one side and a tall woman with blue eyes who appeared to be in her late fifties on the other. The blue-eyed woman wasn’t laughing, but looked into the camera with a playful smile as her curly brown hair caught the sun.

  As Kate strolled around the studio, she noticed his collection seemed to have no particular theme, though many of the styles were familiar. She recognized what could only have been one of Javi’s abstract steel sculptures in one corner. The bright jewel-tones of Vanessa’s art dotted the walls, along with various landscapes done mostly in acrylics. She did notice a few oil paintings scattered around the room, including a rustic cabin surrounded by pine trees, and another of a canopy of live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. She recognized a few of Dee’s photographs hung along the walls, interspersed with some that appeared to be his own.

  As she stood in front of the painting of the old cabin, she noticed the distinctive signature in the bottom right corner.

  S. Rhodes.

  “Sam Rhodes painted this?” She turned to look at the photographer, who had been watching her study the walls.

  “Yeah, she sent that to me on my birthday one year. That's her grandfather’s cabin. We used to go up there a lot. She lives there now. All her family lives in the mountains.”

  “Are any of the others her work?”

  He nodded. “She’ll send me one every now and then. Landscapes of California mostly. The beach, the Sierras. The Central Coast. Lots of places we visited together.” He smiled a little. “I imagine she thinks it keeps me from getting homesick.”

  “Does it?”

  He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Not really.”

  A thousand questions flooded her mind as she continued walkin
g around the room.

  Kate stopped in front of one picture featuring a familiar square jaw. She smiled and turned to see him watching her with a curious expression.

  She pointed at the picture. “This is Javi.”

  Reed raised an eyebrow at her, and his eyes seemed to light in amusement. “Yes, it is. He hates that picture. Ornery asshole tries to steal it on the rare occasions he ventures out of his cave and up in this direction.”

  The picture was taken from the front and showed the sculptor’s mouth and jaw. His elaborate tattoos were visible along the collarbone, and she smiled when she saw the familiar flecked scars along his neck.

  “Nice frame,” she mused.

  He walked toward her as she examined the picture. “Yeah, I like it.” He lifted a hand over the picture, waving an index finger toward the sculptor’s neck. “He’s got some interesting scarring along his neck. You know, from the welding. Idiot used to forget to put his mask on. Good thing he’s already so damn ugly,” he said with a smile in her direction.

  She felt her face flush and glanced away from the photographer’s measuring gaze. She had forgotten for a moment that Javi and Reed were friends, and she wondered what Javi might have said about her, if anything.

  Reed nodded toward another photograph mounted near Javi’s portrait.

  “That’s Vanessa Allensworth.”

  Kate smiled, recognizing the regal profile. She was grateful for the change in subject. “Yeah, she says she loves that picture. She mentioned it when I met her.”

  He snorted. “I’m glad she likes it. Lydia hated it.” He shrugged. “Of course, I didn’t give a shit what Lydia thought. She’s so damn bossy sometimes.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “She’s good, though. You’re in good hands if you sign with her. She’ll work her ass off for you.”

  They stood silently next to each other, unconsciously mirroring the other’s stance as they looked at the various pieces of art that decorated the huge, white walls.