Brush Strokes by Dee Carney

surrounding them. A
photographer she recognized watched with interest. He called out,
“Then loan him to me afterward, Tanya. I could use someone with his
look if you two don’t over-saturate the community with him
first.”
    Joe’s dark gaze drifted to the
photographer, mounting irritation evident on his features. He
removed himself from Erica’s grip, ever so gently. “Thank you for
the offer, but perhaps some other time. Tanya knows how to get a
hold of me for that. I’m sure it would be enlightening.” He dipped
his head toward Mr. Killian, who watched with amusement. “If you’ll
excuse us, sir.”
    Anger speared through her
at his words, so much so, she almost didn’t notice right away he’d
guided them away from her patron. She’d go back in a minute to talk
to him as well as a few others she needed to pay her respects to,
but first, she had a few choice words for Mr. Boyd. As soon as they
were out of earshot, she blew a frustrated breath.
“ Tanya knows how to get a hold of
me ?” she mocked. “What does that
mean?”
    “ It means…”
    “ Is that your model, Tanya?
Nice!” someone called as they passed by.
    She thought she recognized the voice
of a former classmate. She smiled in acknowledgement, but that
didn’t slow the tirade building inside of her. “I did a fucking
fantastic job painting my model. The last piece is probably my
best.” The pace of her steps increased, the force with which she
brought her feet down sending bolt-like stabs through her legs.
“Your bone structure. Your muscles. Your coloring. All of it is
damned near perfect.”
    “ Tanya—”
    “ I fucking defy her to
render my model better than I have. I want to see my damned
painting on the wall because it is good . No one has to tell me that. For
Christ sake, even the way I captured your damned pubic hair is a
work of genius.”
    “ Tanya, enough!” His voice
echoed out over the room, hushed conversations smothered beneath
the weight of his agitation. He gripped her elbow and turned her to
face him. Erica’s description of his eyes as stormy had never been
more apt. “Do you hear yourself?”
    She vibrated with ire. The
nerve of that woman…and Joe was getting loud with her ? “What?”
    “ My model. Bone structure.
Muscle. Coloring.”
    “ And?”
    His voice dropped to a hush. “Is that
all I am to you?”
    “ I’m not following you.
You’re not making any sense.” She noticed that none of the other
conversations in the spacious room had resumed. Apparently, their
words, amplified by the layout, combined with their heated gestures
made quite the spectacle.
    Joe noticed too. He hustled them to a
far wall where some monstrosity of intricate basket weaving preened
on a pedestal. “With all that we’ve been through in the last couple
of days, our first date out, and you and your friends parade me
like some sort of object.”
    “ That’s not true.” She
dropped her gaze, unable to look him in the eye. “And they’re not
my friends.”
    He took a deep breath. “I care for
you, Tanya. I care for your art. I care for your future, but you
make me wonder if you even know I exist.”
    Where was he going with this? She took
a step back, putting a little space between them. “Of course I know
you exist.”
    “ You study me. Scrutinize
me down to the finest detail. But do you ever look at me? Really
look at me ? When I
asked you to touch me, taste me…when we took things from friendly
to something more, did it ever stop being an art lesson for you?
Did you ever notice that a man who loves you offered himself in the
only way he knew would get your attention?”
    Keeping her hands at her sides took
all of her strength of will. Why she kept them there she didn’t
know. “Why are you so upset?”
    “ If you don’t know, I guess
I’ve been wasting your time.” He took a few steps back before
turning. “Oh, look. Your display is right behind you. I’ll leave
you to admire the colors and muscles and other