Reckless

The studio was a maze of paintings and easels between the entrance and me, so she might not notice me in the back.

“Who was that girl outside,” Tiffany asked Christos at the far end of the studio.

“Isabella? She’s one of the models Brandon sent me. Down from L.A. I think she does work for Vogue and all the other fashion mags.”

“She sure is beautiful,” Tiffany said. “Brandon knows how to pick ’em.”

“I guess,” Christos said.

“But Isabella isn’t as beautiful as me, right?” Tiffany purred while inspecting the painting of Isabella, her back facing me. She turned slightly and thrust her ass out at Christos. In nature, that was called presenting.

Bitch!

“No one’s as beautiful as you, Tiffany,” Christos said sarcastically, glancing at me between the frames of several easels while rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He pointed at Tiffany’s jutting butt and raised his eyebrows in a “can you believe her?” look.

I stifled a giggle.

“How beautiful am I?” Tiffany asked, leaning into Christos’ chest.

Double Bitch!

“Do you need some more bait for your hook, or are you going to keep fishing for compliments all day?” Christos asked, audibly frustrated. “You know, fly-casting style, just throwing the lure out there over and over, and over, again? Even when this fish isn’t biting?”

I did the Happy Dance in my head. Yeah, Christos!

“Fine,” Tiffany huffed. “I came on business anyway. Well,” her voice went coquette, “business and pleasure.”

“Do tell,” Christos said, perturbed.

“Daddy told me to offer you $75,000 to paint me nude.”

“Your dad is so generous. A true prince.”

“Well, am I worth it?” Tiffany asked coyly.

“Hey, Samantha,” Christos hollered, “do you think seventy-five K is a fair price for me to paint Tiff?”

“Do you have to paint her live, in person day after day, or can you use a photo?” I hollered from my hiding place.

“Huh? Who’s here?” Tiffany asked, concerned.

“Yeah, it has to be live, in person,” Christos hollered to me.

“Then charge her two seventy-five,” I giggled.

“Who is that?” Tiffany demanded.

I came out of hiding. “Hey, Tiff,” I said casually.

“You,” Tiffany scowled the second she saw me. “You don’t call me Tiff. Understand?”

I ignored her demand. “Make sure she pays cash this time. Up front.”

“She’s right,” Christos said to Tiffany. “Cash up front.” He held out his palm

Tiffany looked between Christos and me like a trapped hyena bitch. “I see you’ve moved your charwoman into the estate. If she has some time off, perhaps she can clean my toilets as well?”

Triple Bitch!

Where was my flamethrower! Tiff was going down in a blaze of glory!

“I would never subject Samantha to the shit that comes out of your ass, Tiffany,” Christos smiled, “or my worst enemies, for that matter.”

Tiffany growled. I don’t mean that figuratively. I mean, she literally went, “Gaaarrrr,” low in her throat while her lips peeled back over her fangs. I’d never seen a grown woman do that before. Where was my camera?

I giggled, but covered my mouth politely.

“Can I show you the door?” Christos asked her.

“I know my way out.”

Tiffany stalked out, slammed the front door behind her, and literally screamed in the driveway.

Me and Christos heard it clear back in the studio.

We both erupted with laughter.

SAMANTHA

Although Christos and I had finally been making time for each other, Kamiko had fallen completely off my radar, with the exception of Oil Painting class.

So Romeo and I made a special effort to swing by her dorm room together in the block of time I had after classes but before my shift at Grab-n-Dash. I had plenty of homework to do that day, but I was sure I could squeeze it in later that evening.

Who needed sleep?

Kamiko ushered me and Romeo into the suite of rooms where she lived in Paiute Hall.

“Hey guys!” she smiled. “I can’t wait to show you what I’ve been doing!”

“Are you making your own Hentai anime porn?” Romeo asked, “The kind with all the penetrating serpents? I’d totally love to see it!”

“No!” she smacked his arm. “I’ve been working on my submissions for Charboneau Gallery’s upcoming Contemporary Artists show.”

We all walked through the door to her double room at the back of the suite.

“Where’s your roommate?” I asked.

“She went to the library to study.”

All of Kamiko’s art supplies were crammed onto her side of the room and there was almost no space to move or sit down. Her bed had a tarp over it with a dozen small paintings resting on top.

Romeo leaned over to pick up one of the paintings.

“Be careful,” Kamiko said, “most of those are still wet.”

Oil paintings could take days or even weeks to dry, depending on how thickly you applied the paint, and you had to be careful not to touch them until they dried. I knew, because a week ago, I’d bumped into one of my studies from class that I’d had drying in my apartment. I had been wearing a white sweater and my elbow had smeared across the canvas and come away looking like unicorn vomit. Bye-bye sweater.

“Where do you sleep?” Romeo asked Kamiko. “With the art?”

“I put the tarp on the floor at night,” she said.

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll step on your paintings when you have to get up to go to the bathroom?”

“I’m careful,” Kamiko shrugged her shoulders.

“You’re becoming a dorm-room hoarder,” Romeo joked.

Ignoring him, Kamiko said, “As soon as they’re dry, I’ll stack them out of the way.”

“You’ve gone crazy, Kamiko!” I smiled. “You have like, twenty awesome paintings in here!”

The paintings had all manner of subjects. Some I recognized from our Oil Painting class, but most were new. She had painted a variety of outdoor scenes: a sunlit garden, the cliffs by the beach, crashing waves on the shore, sailboats at the marina, even a seagull that was totally lifelike. They were all really good.

“Ever since Brandon told me about the Contemporary Artists show,” Kamiko said, “I’ve been doing studies almost every day. I totally want to get one of my pieces into that show.”

“Aren’t you worried about taking too much time away from all your pre-med classes?” Romeo asked.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “but I can’t help myself. Painting is way more fun,” she giggled. “Don’t tell my parents,” she said nervously.

Romeo pulled out his cell phone and mimed dialing. “Bring!,” he said. “Bring! Oh, hello, Mrs. Nishimura? Yeah, this is Romeo Fabiano, Kamiko’s friend. Yeah, Kamiko is totally bailing on her Biology homework and spending all her time painting. Yeah, she’s crazy. Thought you’d like to know.” He mimed ending the call and shoved the phone in his pocket. “She said she’d be here with the entire family to intervene in about an hour. Oh, and you have been disowned. But they’re still coming anyway. Said something about a caning.”

“I thought caning was only in Singapore,” I offered.

“Her parents are very multi-cultural,” Romeo joked. I knew that Romeo had met Kamiko’s family and knew them pretty well.