“It’s Mal,” Gage said. The soulful look in his eyes turned to worry. “I… I need to go get it. There might be somethingwrong.”
“We’re taking fifteen. You’re fine. I’ve got to put you back into position, anyway.” Alex waved him off. “Go take your call, and when you’re done, we’ll get back to work,okay?”
Gage nodded, then rushed across the room and dug out his phone from among his clothes. He answered the call, put the phone to his ear, and cast Alex an apologetic look as he headed toward the studio door. “Hey, Mal, it’s Gage. Is, um, is everythingokay?”
The door opened, and Gage slipped through it and out into the hall. He closed the door behind him, leaving Alex on his own. Usually, that wouldn’t have been a problem—solitude was a pleasure Alex felt he indulged in far too rarely. Today, however, it was anuisance.
He couldn’t get last night out of hismind.
Purple.
Alex chewed his bottom lip and removed his current canvas from where it was perched on the easel. He’d managed to get general, blocky shapes sketched, but he’d need a little more time to fill in the details before he could get started with the painting. Right now, that wasn’t going to do. He needed to get the color out of his head, and the only way he was going to be able to do it was if hepainted.
There was a blank canvas laid out on the table, smaller than the one Alex was gearing up to work on, that had been primed with gesso at the same time as his current piece. It was set and ready for use. He set it up on the easel, dug through his supplies on the table, and prepared his palette. What he needed wasn’tcomplicated.
Alizarincrimson.
Ultramarine.
Linseed oil turned thick pigment into paint. Alex mixed it with his palette knife, pushing each color back and forth separately to make sure the oil was well-incorporated before he dragged some of the paint to the middle of the palette to unite the two pigments. Red and blue bloomed into purple, the cool tones of each paint producing a dreamy shade he would apply as a base coat and highlight as needed. The purple that had blinked into existence in his mind, in all its nuance and beauty, took root in the physical world as he worked. He pushed more paint into the middle zone, enriching and adding to the color until it was just right. When he was satisfied, he grabbed a heavily used Filbert brush from the tin can on his supplies table and began to lay down color. For now, it didn’t matter that he hadn’t blocked in the canvas appropriately. This wouldn’t be his final attempt. Right now, all he wanted to do was get the goddamn feeling out of hisheart.
The brush stroked the canvas, leaving dreamy purple in itswake.
Get.Out.
His strokes were clumsy. Amateur. Ugly. Alex’s chest heaved, and he applied the bristles to the paint and continued despite hiserrors.
He was better than this. He wascelebrated,for Christ’s sake. He would have expected work like this from a twelve-year-old version of himself—at twenty-one, he’d mastered his craft far better. But the feelings in his chest weren’t so easily expressed, and they fought him as he tried to wrest them onto thecanvas.
Purple. Nebulous, billowingpurple.
It needed more value. It needed more temperature. Itneeded…
Alex let the brush fall. Magenta flooded his mind momentarily and ruined his vision. He closed his eyes and let it pass, talking himself down from hisfrustration.
All it needed, he told himself, wastime.
The door opened. Familiar footsteps crossed the room, and a friendly hand set itself on his shoulder. Alex opened his eyes. Natural light constricted his pupils, and he narrowed his eyes against it. Normalcy would return if he gave it time. If he continued to harbor fervor like this, the purple would never leave himbe.
“Mal says that Bo just threw up out of nowhere, and that he’s inconsolable now. I was wondering if maybe we could cut today’s session short so I can go be with him. If you want, you can take a photograph. I, um, I know that it’s really going to be disruptive to your work schedule.” Every now and then Gage stole a look at the smaller canvas. “Is it okay if I go? We can reschedule, too. I’m sorry to have to cut thingsshort.”
“Real life gets in the way sometimes. I get that.” Hell, it was getting in the way right now. Alex didn’t want anything to do with the canvas he should have been working on—all he wanted was to get the purple out. “Go take care of your kid. I’ve got some other work I can keep myself busy with. Just make sure you text me so I’m not worried,okay?”
“It’s probably nothing. Bo gets sick all the time. He’s delicate, like me.” Gage laughed, but there was a worried slant to it that Alex found troublesome. “I’m going to get dressed, then I’ll get out of yourhair.”
“Yeah,sure.”
“Payday onFriday?”
“Bo is sick. Do you need it now?” Alex looked Gage over, seeking the truth. More often than not, Gage didn’t ask for help when he needed it. Whether it had something to do with his pride, or whether it was just a personal failing, Alex hadn’t been able to figure out. All he knew was that Gage was in a tight spot, and a few hundred dollars now might mean a world of difference for him. Alex was more than ready to front him themoney.
Gage ran his tongue across his teeth nervously and shook his head, which was a clear sign that he wanted to ask, but didn’t want to impose. With a sigh, Alex set his palette down and took his wallet from his back pocket. He counted out the bills and handed three hundred dollars Gage’s way. Gage looked at him doe-eyed, then glanced down at the floor,embarrassed.
“Take the money,” Alex saidfirmly.
“It’s a lot, and I know that I have to cancel on you a lot,and—”
“Take it.” Alex stepped forward and pushed the bills into Gage’s hand. “Make sure that you get Bo something to settle his stomach, okay? You still have the log-in info for my Netflixaccount?”
