Jess was a Bitch Ch. 14

"So, Jon would have no part of that. You're not expecting him to buy a stake in the trust or anything. You're asking him to allow you, if this works out with, what did you say his name was, David?" Caitlin nods. "If this works out with David, you simply want Jon to give you the right to display his works. Correct?"

"You got it, James. Exactly right. I'm not asking Jon to pony up any money."

"What if down the road, he wanted to become a part owner of the gallery? How long a term are you asking for regarding exclusivity?"

"David suggested five years. I suggested three. Are you aware that typically, if an artist's stuff isn't selling the gallery reserves the right to end the agreement at any time?"

"No," James replies. "Seems a little one-sided, though."

"That's because it is," Caitlin agrees. "But like any business you can be loaded down with inventory you can't move." James nods. Caitlin looks at the two of them. "I didn't say anything to Jon about this next part, but I admit the thought was in my mind. This is a nice quiet spot. If things get too intense at home, no one is using this space. It might be awkward since it would also be a storage area for the gallery, but he could live and paint here." She looks at Jess. "There's room for two, for what that's worth."

***

Jon struggles to channel his frustration. It took forever to cover the canvas with gesso. On smaller canvases he uses the flat edge of an old credit card rather than a brush. The best he could do for the large canvas leaning in front of him, was a three-inch spackling tool. He calls himself a fool for not buying a bigger one last night and for not simply going and buying one this morning. The canvas is covered but it's going to need several coats. He sprung for the tighter weave canvas. For what he has in mind, he needs a smooth canvas. The summer humidity is not helping. He's afraid to use a fan for fear of blowing dust or the random grass clipping onto the wet gesso. He had to break down and open both garage doors a foot or so, or he would have died of heat stroke.

Instead of running out to the hardware store, he takes one of the smaller, pre-primed, canvases out onto the screen-in porch, sets up his easel and his paints and goes at it. It's an eighteen-inch square canvas. He clamps it and then swivels it so that it looks like a diamond. He divides it in diagonals, creating four triangles and quickly covers one with a vibrant yellow, another red. The remaining two, white and black. He likes to work fast. That more than anything else has lead him to paint mostly in a wet-on-wet style. Jess' face goes into the white, his own into the black, Caitlin yellow and Travis red. He blends the colors along the borders of the regions and in the center. The necks of the portraits are at the center, not quite meeting but blending together. He was afraid the effect would be too macabre but looking at it now he doesn't think so. His one concern is that he has, perhaps, portrayed the four of them as more bound together than they actually are. He hopes the background colors, red-yellow and black-white, help reinforce the association between himself, Jess, Travis, and Caitlin.

He leaves it to dry, heads to the garage, touches the side of the canvas. It's sticky. "Fuck." He stops for a drink of water and a leak and returns to the porch. He puts a smaller canvas on the easel, feeling of two minds about what he intends to paint. He opens the photos on his phone and, once again, loses himself in a fugue of painting. He had intended to be brief, almost a sketch in oils, but he found himself intrigued. He added more and more detail. The fact that he was becoming aroused, painting a self-portrait of his own dick from the photo he'd sent Jess, disturbed him, but not enough to cause him to discard the painting. Finished, he stared at it, wondering if getting a hard-on, looking at a painting of your own hard-on was sort of a definition of excessive self-regard.

Somewhere in the house he heard the faint sound of the Darth Vader march. He realized it was his phone ringing, and that he'd totally spaced off the fact he was supposed to be at work. The phone had stopped by the time he was able to wipe the wet paint off his fingers. He found it on the kitchen counter where he'd lain it down to pull up his pants after talking to Jess. There were four missed calls from work and one he didn't recognize. He called that one first, preferring to deal with the unknown rather than his boss who hated him.

"Hello?"

"Jon, it's me, Caitlin."

"Hey, hi, what's up?" Sudden panic flooded his mind. "Is everything okay?" He knew it was by the sound of her voice but knowing that didn't relieve his panic.

"Absolutely, other than we all miss you. Jess says you're working on a big canvas."

"I'm working on prepping a big canvas. The Dallas humidity is killing me. It's taking hours for the gesso to dry."

"Well, if you have some downtime, David loved your stuff."

"Really? Cool."

"Yeah, really, and way cool. You remember those pencil sketches you did of Jess? It looks like in one of them she was crying?"

"Yeah, why?"

"He has someone who wants to buy them, if you can re-draw them on nice paper. You want me to send you the photos? You interested in selling them?"

"Uh, they're Jess' not mine."

"Dude, Jess is standing here shaking her head. You want to talk to her?"

"Sure." There's a pause, then Jess says hi, sounding excited and worried.

"Don't you want the sketches?"

"Of course, I do. I love them but not as much as I love the thought of you being able to get started as an artist. Are you upset?"

He thinks for a moment, trying not to think too much about the four missed calls from his boss. "How many were there, like six?"

"Yeah. You want the photos?"

Jon finds, to his surprise, he doesn't. He doesn't need them. Drawing the images hasn't erased them from his mind. They're there but filed away and not banging on the walls to be let out. As he recalls the images, he knows precisely how he wants to do them. "No, I don't need them. They'd be better in chalk. Would that be okay?"

"How the fuck would I know?" Her voice sounds more distant. "Caitlin, is chalk okay?"

"Jon?" It's Caitlin. "Yeah, who were you expecting?" he snorts.

"Very funny. You want to do them in chalk?"

"Yes. That's the only way I'll sell them." As he speaks, he realizes that's true. He'll sell them but only when he's sure they're the best he can make them.

"Hmm, okay. Do you have time to do one and send me a photo? Even if David's potential buyer is not interested, that doesn't mean we can't find someone else."

"Oh, yeah. I finished a couple of quick oils this morning. I need to get another coat of gesso on the big canvas but I can work on re-doing one of those sketches in chalk." He hesitates, afraid to ask. "Do you know how much the buyer is willing to pay?"

"Yeah, a thousand but chalk is more work, David may renegotiate the price."

"Oh, okay."

"Jon, you sound disappointed."

"Well, after your cut, five-hundred bucks doesn't go very far. I'm being a brat, I know. Sorry. It's amazing that you found someone willing to pay that."

"Jon, a thousand dollars per drawing, not for all six. Does three grand for you sound better?"

"Are you serious? Three thousand bucks?"

"Maybe more, dude."

"Fuck me."

"Sure, when?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Good one. Thanks, Caitlin. Uh, could I talk to Jess again?"

"Duh, yeah. Here you go."

"Isn't that fucking awesome?" Jess squeals in delight. "I'm so happy for you. It's unbelievable. Hey, Caitlin showed us the space for the gallery. I'd love for you to see it as well but I think it will work great."

"I trust your judgement. I'm going to send you pics of a couple small oils I did this morning. One of them, I'm pretty sure won't sell. Uh, Jess, if there's something you see you don't want me to sell, you'll say so, right?"

"Yup, little bro, I'll say something. Love you, Mr. Artiste'"

"I love you, too. I miss you, way more than I thought I would."

"Me, too, babe. Me, too. I'm going to say good-bye before I start to feel sad. Love you. Bye."

"Bye, love you, too."

It's not until Jon is picking up his keys and wallet, now that the idea is in his head he can't wait to get paper and chalk, that he realizes he's bare assed naked. He smiles. Three weeks ago, he would have berated himself for being a moron, not that he was in the habit of walking around naked three weeks ago. Now? He smiles at himself. He shakes his head, unable to understand how Jess' love was capable of such a profound change, not just in his life, but in himself. He takes a deep breath and lays his keys and wallet back down. He checks the canvas. It's dry but if he's going out anyway, why not wait until he has a better tool for applying the gesso? He nods to himself and goes back inside.

He moves the new oils around to reduce the glare. He takes a few photos with his phone, picks the best, and sends them to Jess.

He's determined to keep his promise to not masturbate but he can't avoid spending a little more time than is strictly necessary washing his dick. Even though his mind is busy trying to remember everything he learned in art class about chalk drawings and what supplies he'll need to preserve the drawing, it only takes a couple of strokes of his soapy hand before he's sporting a raging boner. By the time he's toweling off, he regrets his actions. His balls ache. They ached last night, now they're aching again. He has no idea how he's going to make it another six days without jerking off.

There's a message waiting for him. It's Jess' reply. An emoji of a cat and rain drops. It takes him a moment to translate that as 'wet pussy'. He smiles. It's not very original but he sends her back the eggplant emoji. His phone buzzes in his hand before he can set it down.

- yeah, I can tell -- save it -- luv u

- I will, love you too, running out for supplies, later --

His phone buzzes. A heart. He closes it and grabs his keys.

He forces himself to not think about his art or Jess while he's driving. It's one thing to forget you haven't dressed within the confines of your own home, another to kill someone because you're not paying attention. Once he's in the relative safety of the art supply store, he allows his mind to wander over the paper, arranging colors in his mind, aligning color with image and mood. The store employees appear to relatively inured when it comes to patrons zoning out in front of displays, no one bothers him. When he reaches for the paper, he knows already how the group of six drawing with fit together, what colors he'll use, and the fact he'll need some pastels as well as chalk.

"Big project?" the clerk asks. He seems interested rather than simply polite.

"Yeah, a series of six sketches, same subject."

"Nice. I hope it works out."

"Dude, so do I."

Jon stops to grab a box of chicken fries at BK and a large Dr. Pepper. He eats the peppery chicken strips one after another, wipes his fingers on his jeans and downs half the soda in one long drink. He sets the Dr. Pepper on the bench in the garage and carries his latest purchases into the house. He hurries back to the garage and applies the second coat of gesso. With the six-inch tool it goes much faster. Even so, he takes his time. He doesn't want to have to do a lot of sanding. He crosses his fingers, hoping one more coat will do it. He does a rough calculation in his head and decides that, if he's lucky, the second coat will have dried in time for him to add the third one before he goes to bed.

He hurries inside, clips a sheet of paper, a faded lilac, to his drafting board, opens the box of chalks, and loses himself.

***

"Anyone want to go to the nude beach or should we just chill here?"

Jess looks at Caitlin, befuddled. She'd been thinking about the photo Jon sent her. Not the actual photo of his dick, the photo of the painting of his dick. She'd been trying to decide which had made her pussy wetter. Regardless of how her pussy came be to wet, she didn't feel she was in a position to lie around nude advertising the fact her pussy was on fire, at least not with her parents around. "Uh, no thanks. I'm going to take it easy I think," she replies when she succeeds in collecting her wits enough to make words.

"Gloria? James?"

They look at each other, shrug. "Can you wrap me up, first? I want to be able to get into the water."

"Well, duh. Let me grab the dressing and tape." Caitlin turns to James. "Are you coming?" After a moment, he nods and gets up off the couch. She walks over to Jess and puts a hand on her shoulder. "You sure? Take your mind off things?"

"Nah, I'm good, really. Thanks."

"Help yourself to whatever's in the fridge," Travis offers. "I'm guessing we'll eat there."

"No biggie. I'll be fine."

It doesn't take the others long to get their stuff together. As they walk to the parking lot, Travis contrives to fall behind the others, Caitlin joins them. They exchange looks, raised eyebrows, nods and, in the end, smiles.

They toss the two beach bags in the back of the rental Jeep, but not before they each grab a towel to put on the seat, the top is off and the Jeep is in full sunlight. James takes shotgun. Travis takes advantage of the fact he has to turn around to back up and is able to see both James and Gloria. "You guys want to try a different clothing optional resort?"

"There's more than one?" Gloria asks.

Travis nods. "It's a nice place, the beach is so-so but there's a great pool," Caitlin adds.

James and Gloria exchange looks. It's James who shrugs and mutters, "Sure."

***

Jon steps back and looks at the sketch. As is always the case, he's almost surprised by what he sees. He's so focused when he works that the end result sneaks up on him. He nods. He likes it. A lot. He rips a shop towel off the roll and wipes his hands. He picks up his phone and takes a picture. He sends it to Jess and Caitlin. He asks them what they think. He knows it's good, very good. He smiles, a smile that Jess would have given every penny she owns to have seen.

***

Caitlin's phone buzzes as they're getting out of the car. She pauses beside the Jeep and opens the message. "Wow," she whispers, staring at the phone. "Oh, wow."

"What is it? Everything okay?" Gloria asks, eyebrows pulled together in concern. Caitlin turns the phone so she can see the photo.

Gloria's hand goes to her mouth. "Is that Jess? Did Jon do that?" She shakes her head. "Don't answer that. Stupid question." As James comes around the car, Gloria nods towards the phone, looks, and then stares at his wife. Travis looks over his wife's shoulder and she tilts the phone his way.

"You're gonna have to ask for more money," he whispers.

Caitlin nods. She holds her finger on top of the photo and forwards it to David with the message -- price just went up -- and hits send.

She takes a deep breath, shakes her shoulders as if she was getting ready to suture a particularly ugly laceration, and brings herself back to the moment. "This club is little different than the one we went to the other day. It's..."

"It's a swingers' club, dear. Do they still use that term? We're a little older than you but we manage to fumble our way around the interweb -- that was a joke. No promises, mind you. I'm sure that's okay with the two of you but shall we go in?"

***

A few miles away, and unknowable to either of them, Jess is staring at her phone and also whispering, "Wow."

***

Photos sent, he sprays the drawing with fixative before attaching another sheet of paper to the drafting board. Unlike the first, there's nothing subtle about this one; it's as vibrant a pink as he could find. Before he can pick up the chalk, his phone buzzes. He picks it up, expecting Jess.

"You know you're fired, right? Asshole."

Shit he forgot to call work. "Yeah, I figured. I really am sorry. I got caught up in something and totally spaced out calling you. I get it."

"Space out on your own time in the future." His former boss hangs up. Jon shrugs. He doesn't like feeling like a dick but there's not much he can do. His phone buzzes again.

- beautiful jon dont call if ur working tonight --

He hits a button.

"Hey, Jon. You didn't need to call. That drawing is, I mean, uh, wow. You made me look beautiful."

"I made you look like you look. Don't be a twit. It's good isn't it?" He can't keep the excitement out of his voice.

"Yeah, babe, it's good. Uh, so is the one of your dick. I'm biased but it didn't seem dirty even though it was very realistic. Somehow it seemed, I don't know, welcoming? Inviting? That's stupid. I can't explain it. Can I show it to Caitlin and Travis? I'd feel weird showing it to mom and dad."

"You can show it to whoever you want. It's yours, baby. All yours, the painting, the photo and the subject. You know that. I am going to get back to drawing if that's okay. I think it'll be a long night. Talk to ya tomorrow?"

"I'm doin' a bunch of nothing here. Call whenever you want. Call at three in the morning if that's when you wanna talk. Love you. God, I want to feel your cock inside me."

"I love you, too and there's no place else I'd rather my cock be than inside you. I may need a doctor by the end of the week. I'll have the world's worst case of blue balls ever."

"Love you babe. Bye."

"Bye. Love you."

He'd been hoping she'd say something like, "you don't need a doctor you need me" and tries not to read anything into the fact she hadn't. He glances at the time on his phone. The gesso won't be dry. He picks up a piece of chalk.

He's applying fixative to the fourth drawing before his hunger gnaws its way into his consciousness. He looks at the time on his phone. He's shocked, though by now he realizes he shouldn't be to see its almost eleven pm. He wants a sandwich. He wants to call Jess. He wants to check the big canvas in the garage to see if it's dry enough for a third coat. He decides he can do two of those things at once. As he picks up his phone, he notices his clothes strewn across the floor where he'd obviously tossed and kicked them. He wonders if it should scare him that he doesn't remember taking them off. The trickle of sweat running down his body tells him why he did it but it would be nice if he could recall doing so.

He punches Jess' image and puts the phone on speaker as he walks through the dark house, stopping in the kitchen to turn on a light. She answers as he's opening the door from the mudroom to the garage.

"Hey, babe, how are you doin'. I told you you didn't need to call but I'm glad you did."

"Me, too. Hey, I have you on speaker. Can we talk while I put another coat of gesso on the canvas?"

"Sure. Are you naked?"

"Yeah, how did you know? Are you?"

"Yup. I don't know. Woman's intuition or maybe because you seem to like to paint in the nude."

"Hmm. I'm drawing not painting but you're right."

"Jon, that first drawing, even though it's clear I've been crying is amazing. Are you doing all of them like that?"

"Uh-uh, different colored paper and palette for each one, depending on the mood. I've only got two more to do. I'm going to do this, have a sandwich and finish them before I hit the sack."

"Don't wear yourself out, babe. There's no rush."

"I won't be able to sleep until they're done anyway."

"That's kind of spooky, Jon. Really? That scares me a little."

"Me, too but part of it is because I don't have anything else to do. I got fired."

"Good. I hated that place."

"So, did I but I feel bad just not showing up. I completely spaced it out yesterday and forgot to call them."

"Don't worry about it. They'll be begging you to come back. That's why Ed was such a douche; he knew you were better at his job than he was."