The Midnight Tour

”

“Oh! That is nice.”

“Isn’t it? Mmm.”

Sandy had posed for it only a month earlier. The setting looked great—a clearing in the deep woods, all rich green and shadows and golden pillars of sunlight slanting down through the trees. But there hadn’t been a breath of a breeze. In the shadows and dampness of the sylvan scene, the mosquitos had been nearly overwhelming. Few had feasted on her, thanks to the repellant, but they’d mobbed her anyway. Some had gotten into her ears. One had even taken a detour into her eye.

The girl in the painting sure didn’t look distressed, though. She seemed carefree and contented like a kid on the first day of summer vacation.

And a bit like a monkey.

She’d actually been standing on a stool, but the stool was nowhere to be seen.

She looked as if she’d been hiking through the woods, happened upon a likely limb, and leaped up to swing on it just for fun. She dangled crooked below the limb, hanging on with her right hand, her left arm waving, her left leg kicking out wildly to the side.

You’re a tomboy frolicking in the forest, Blaze had told her.

A barefoot tomboy wearing cut-off blue jeans and a short-sleeved red shirt. The cut-offs were very short, faded almost to white, and torn at the sides. The red shirt, also faded, looked too small for her. The way she dangled, it was pulled up halfway to her ribcage, showing her midriff and navel and how her shorts hung so low they looked ready to fall down. Partly unbuttoned, the shirt showed the bare slope of her left breast.

Blaze had called the painting, Huckleberry Fem.

Below the sticker reading SOLD, Sandy saw the price tag.

$5,800.

“Holy smoke,” she muttered.

“If you ask me,” Megan said, “it’s a masterpiece. I absoludy adore it. Look at that girl. So...fresh and innocent. And yet so...alluring. It’s as if Blaze has captured the magical blend of childhood innocence on the verge of blossoming sensuality.”

“Sure looks that way,” Sandy said.

“Wouldn’t you just love to take her home with you?”

“Yeah. Sure would. Too bad it’s already sold.”

“As I said, we’ll probably be getting another one in fairly soon.”

“Are they all this good?”

“Oh, yes. The new ones most certainly are. Ever since he’s been using Electra.”

'Huh?”

“Electra. That’s the name of his model.”

“He uses the same model in all of them?”

“Oh, yes. Isn’t she a find? She’s simply devastating.”

Sandy almost slipped and said, Thanks. But she caught herself in time.

“She’s Blaze’s niece, you know. Such a beauty! She comes all the way up from San Francisco twice a month to pose for him. I’ve met her myself, and she is just the most charming creature.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“Well,” Sandy said, “I’ve got to be on my way. Maybe I’ll come in for a look at the new one.”

“Try us early next week. Of course, we never know for sure when Blaze will come in, but we are the only gallery he deals with. If you want an Electra, this is the place to come. And, as I mentioned, they sell as fast as we’re able to hang them on the wall. Your best bet would be to come in daily.”

“Well, we’ll see. Thanks again.”

Sandy walked out of the gallery, amazed that Megan hadn’t recognized her, determined never to return, delighted that paintings of her could be so highly prized, and looking foward to an increase in pay from Blaze.

A big increase.

And she’d gotten it.

She’d decided not to tell him about her visit to the art gallery, but just to...

“Be a good girl and wet yourself up again,” Blaze said, snapping Sandy out of the memories. “You’re losing your cling.”

“Wouldn’t want to loose that,” she said. She stetched, then turned around and waded into deeper water. There, she dunked herself to the shoulders. The water felt cold and good. She came up with her dress clinging, her skin shiny wet.

“Fabulous,” Blaze said.

She returned to her former position and bent over with her right leg forward, her body turned slightly toward Blaze. She fixed her eyes on the rocks beyond him.

“Tilt your head up slightly. Good, good. Fabulous.”

Blaze resumed painting.

After a while, he said, 'This may be our masterpiece.”

“What’s your asking price?” someone called.

The man’s voice seemed to come from somewhere in the rocks beyond Blaze.

Chapter Thirty

PICTURE PERFECT

At the snack stand, Owen asked for a Red-Hot Beastie Weenie, fries and a medium Creature Cola. John Cromwell ordered a Double-Decker Monsterburger Deluxe, Beastly Chili Fries with cheese, and a large Creature Cola. Owen paid for both meals.

'You’re really a pal,” John said and patted him on the shoulder.

'Well, glad to help.”

“Most guys wouldn’t do that, you know?”

'Well...”

“Good main. Hope I can do something for you some day.”

'Well, that’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”

Soon, the food was ready. They carried their trays over to a corner table and sat down.

John stripped off the paper and poked his straw through the split X on the lid of his drink. He sucked up some cola, then sighed. “Know what I’ll do for you? I’ll take your picture.”

“Ah, that’s...”

John shoved his chair back and stood up.

“You don’t have to.”

'I want to. No, seriously.” Stepping away from the table, he raised the camera to his eye. “Just act natural,” he said. “None of this cheese shit.”

Owen laughed.

John snapped the shot, then sidestepped and took another. Then he returned to the table. “I’ll send em to you,” he said, sitting down.

Send them to me? He’ll need my address.

What if he drops in for a visit?

'Ah,” Owen said, “you don’t have to...”

“Tell you what, pal. Know what I’ll do? I saw you scoping out that guide. Lynn. A real babe-a-roo, huh? How about if I send you copies of the shots with her in ’em, too? Bet you’d like that, huh?”

“I guess so,” he admitted.

“You guess so.” John laughed.

“Yeah, that’d be fine.”