Johnnie slowly pulled herself from her dream state to answer the phone after several rings.
“Yeah. Hello.”
“Is this Riot?”
Johnnie grabbed her head and sat up. “Yes.” Her clock radio said it was after ten.
“Your practitioner wishes to meet at a different location today.”
Johnnie’s mind fought to wake and register the words. “Okay, where?”
“She prefers that you meet where you paint.”
Johnnie swung her bare legs over the side of the bed. “Yeah, I don’t think I can make that happen.” She had four paintings of the woman now.
“She would like to see where you work.”
“I just—” Fuck, what was she going to do?
“Do you have an address for me to give her?”
She would have to hide the paintings. Johnnie stood and gave her the address to the studio, then she jumped in the shower. After debating several outfits, she settled for a light pink tight tee and khaki cargo pants. She ran pomade through her hair, sprayed on her cologne, and headed out. She was anxious about the woman seeing the studio. She wasn’t exactly an organized artist. She had several works started and off to the side. Stacks of finished canvases she wasn’t happy with. Sketches. Old furniture she refused to get rid of. It wasn’t exactly impressive.
When she pulled up to the plaza of office spaces for rent, she killed her engine and failed to notice that there was a person sitting in the sedan next to her. She nearly jumped out of her skin when he spoke.
“You’re late,” Jim said as he crawled from his BMW. “Good news is it isn’t raining.” He looked up at the sky as if to be sure.
“Jim, hi.” Johnnie tried to act casual, but she was frazzled and surprised.
He looked at her and smiled a knowing smile. “You forgot didn’t you?”
She held out her hands. “Sorry.”
He joined her by the glass door. “Don’t worry about it. You always were a bit absent-minded.”
“Afraid so,” she said, unlocking the door and allowing him to enter first. The smell of paint and turpentine and dry wall dust assaulted them, and Johnnie at once relaxed. Jim headed straight back to the large room with the big windows where she worked. He was on a mission and a longtime friend. She’d let him move in if he asked.
She grabbed a chilled bottle of iced tea from her old fridge. She cracked it open and found him in front of her latest, arms crossed, a pleased look on his face.
“You were right. She’s a stunner.” His jaw flexed just as it did every time he examined her work. His mind was jumping with possibilities. He took a step back, eyes still trained on the painting. “The others?”
Johnnie crossed to the far wall and uncovered the other three. Jim moved to help her and they placed them all on easels. He crossed his arms again and stood in silence.
“You know I have a Brazilian collector who would kill for these.”
Johnnie sank onto a nearby stool. “They aren’t for sale.”
Jim paid her no mind and kept examining the paintings. “He would want them all and any more if you painted her again. He has a thing for dark haired beauties. An obsession of sorts.”
“She doesn’t know these exist.”
“So tell her. Show her.”
“Say I do. I doubt she would want some strange man drooling over her every day.”
He laughed. “A woman that looks like that. She’s heard it all before.”
“I can’t.” She moved away and sipped her tea.
Jim finally turned away from the paintings. “It’s personal?”
Johnnie nodded.
“Are you in love with her?”
She gave him a look, letting him know he’d gone too far.
He let it go. “Do you have anything else?”
“Nothing new. Just what’s against the wall there.”
He moved along the wall, lifting canvas after canvas. “I’m having my spring show soon. And as always, I want you in it.” He lowered a canvas and met her gaze. “Those would be perfect.”
“I can’t.”
“Tell me you’ll think about it.”
She sighed.
“Johnnie, I know you need the money.”
“Some things are more valuable than money.”
He stared at her. “You are in love with her.”
Johnnie heated. “Jim, I’m just simply not going to sell this woman’s image without her knowing.”
“So tell her! My God, she’ll be flattered. Who wouldn’t?”
Johnnie shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”
“Make it simple.”
He retrieved his phone and silenced a call, then walked toward her. “Johnnie, these are good. Very different for you. You’re popular right now among collectors. You have to take advantage now.”
She knew he was right. But so was she.
He lightly held her elbow and kissed her cheek. “I have to go. I’ll call you soon.”
Jim had been very good to her. He’d plucked her out of oblivion, showing her work in his gallery, which in turn got her off the street. He was always eager to see her work, eager to keep her secure in her lifestyle. Money meant more to him than it did to her, but she accepted him for who he was. And he her.
She remained sitting on the stool as he left. She studied the paintings and finished her tea. When her back ached from sitting, she stood and turned. The woman was standing behind her, face slack with shock and surprise.