Reckless

“Speaking of which,” the man said, “my wife and I were looking at the work you two were doing, and thought we’d like to buy it.”

“Oh,” Christos said, somewhat surprised. “I don’t think I’ve ever sold one of these crayon paintings before. I usually just sell my oils at Charboneau Gallery in La Jolla.”

Wow. Christos wasn’t even trying and people were approaching him to buy his work. I was both amazed at the power of his family’s reputation and bummed that I was at least a decade or ten behind him in my own embryonic art career. Oh well. Maybe when I turned sixty it would be like this for me too. Assuming I didn’t throw in the towel and carry the torch of my family’s legacy. I could imagine forty years from now, silver-haired couples in coffee shops asking me if I was Sam Smith, CPA, and would I be willing to do their taxes this year? Sigh.

“Actually,” the man said sheepishly, “we were hoping to buy your friend’s piece.”

Christos’ eyes lit up and he grinned. “You mean Samantha’s?”

“Yes,” the man smiled. He offered his hand to me to shake. “Pleased to meet you, Samantha.”

His wife shook my hand and said, “We heard you two talking about trying to sell Samantha’s work. We’ve always tried to support the arts any way we can.”

I was blown away. “Are you guys serious?”

“Yes, we’re serious,” the man smiled. “And we’re not just doing you a favor, young lady. I can tell from here your work is good.”

“Oh, Ted,” his wife said, “Stop. You’re embarrassing the poor girl.”

“I’m serious, Victoria. I think her work is excellent.”

I blushed from head to toe and smiled wide. I think my teeth were blushing too.

“Do you mind if I take a closer look?” Ted asked, reaching toward my crayon painting.

“Sure,” I smiled.

He picked it up and held it so his wife could get a better look.

“Isn’t that beautiful,” Victoria said to her husband, then turned to me. “You have a terrific sense of color. And I can’t believe you did this with kids’ crayons!”

Ted peered through his reading glasses at my art. “It really is good. Excellent composition.” He looked at me over his reading glasses. “How much do you want for it?”

“Uhhh,” I was stunned. “I don’t know?”

Christos chuckled. “Samantha’s new at this, as you may have guessed. Why don’t you guys make an offer.”

I was glad Christos stepped in. I was going to say they could have it for free.

“How about a hundred bucks?” the man said, pulling out his wallet.

“A hundred bucks!” I clapped my hand over my mouth.

Victoria smiled at me and giggled.

“Okay, how about one fifty?” Ted said.

“Oh my god!” I slapped my other hand over my mouth, totally surprised and slightly embarrassed, like I was manipulating them somehow.

Ted looked at Christos shrewdly. “I think your lady friend is an expert negotiator. One fifty it is. But she has to sign it.” Ted winked at me.

“I, no! I mean, I didn’t—” I looked at Christos for help. He merely smiled. “I can’t take your money! You guys can have it. I can’t believe you actually want it.”

Ted and Victoria exchanged a laugh while Ted counted the money out of his wallet and laid it on the table.

'Go ahead and sign it, Samantha” Christos encouraged.

“What? How?”

“You know how to sign your name, don’t you? Pick a color and sign the thing on the front or the back.”

“Oh, on the front, please,” Ted said. “We want people who come to our house to know who the artist is.”

I selected a gold crayon from the box. It seemed appropriate for the occasion. I signed my name on the front corner. When I was finished, I handed my crayon drawing to Ted. “I’ve never sold a painting before,” I squeaked.

He read my signature. “Now we can tell people that we have Samantha Smith’s first sold work in our collection.” He turned to his wife. “This oughta be worth something in a few years.” He handed me the money.

“Thank you so much!” I said to Ted, then reached over the table and hugged Christos. “I sold my first painting!”

Ted and Victoria chuckled.

“Here’s my business card,” Ted said, pulling one from his wallet. “Be sure to let us know if you have any work in the Contemporary Artists show you guys were talking about.”

“Ted, we should go get this framed,” Victoria beamed. “Thank you guys so much. Good luck!”

When they were gone I gaped at Christos. “Did you like, plan that or something?”

He laughed. “No. But I did help set the intention for you.”

“I really can’t believe that just happened!” I said, still gaping.

“I’ve seen crazier shit a hundred times in my own life. This is just the beginning, Samantha. I promise, agapi mou.”

I wrapped my arms around him gave him a huge smooch. “I love you so much, Christos!”

SAMANTHA

When Christos and I left the boardwalk cafe we both were getting hungry for dinner. We walked past the strip mall where Thai Doughnut was located. They were still open.

“Hey,” I joked, “want an Apple Fritter for dinner?”

“Tempting,” Christos said thoughtfully. “Maybe dessert?”

“Okay, let’s get regular Thai food.”

Back at my apartment, we hopped in my VW and drove to Bangkok Bay as the sun went down. Christos ordered Roasted Duck Curry and a side of Drunken Noodles.

“How much do you eat a day, really?” I asked.

“Same as a regular horse,” he joked.

I ordered yellow curry, and we drove back to my apartment. We ate sitting on the floor with our backs against my couch, our food on the coffee table.

“Congrats on selling that crayon painting today,” Christos said before forking noodles into his mouth.

“Are you sure that wasn’t a setup? That woman Victoria said she remembered meeting you.”

“That was ten years ago. Probably my grandfather’s last gallery show. There were tons of people there. If I met them, I don’t remember.”

“Are you sure sure?” I prodded.

“Accept it, Samantha. Someone bought your artwork today.”

“I know!” I shook my hands in a seated happy dance. “I made a hundred fifty bucks!”

“Now you’re on your way. I think this deserves a celebration. Maybe even a pageant,” he winked.

“Uhhhh….” I squirted a gush of Sriracha hot sauce on my yellow curry.

“Whoa! You got enough hot sauce?” Christos laughed.

“Whoops! Guess I like it hot,” I protested.

“Me too,” Christos winked.

Gulp. I took a bite of my curry. “Woo, hot!”

I was reminded again of the intense oral sexcapades I’d shared with Christos right on this floor, beside this couch and table, less than two months prior. We had been eating Thai food then, too.

As I chewed my curry, the spicy Sriracha sauce must have kicked in because my whole body was hot- flashing. That was the only rational explanation. I was also sure that my equally sudden horniness had nothing to do with the fact that the hottest man on the planet was grinning at me with his sexy dimples from less than a foot away.

“Are you sweating?” he asked.