I'd bring it up tomorrow, on our hike. I didn't usually hike so close to the city, but I wanted to break Gabe into my favoritepastime slowly. He'd been delighted by my offer to pay for dinner at Northie's, an upscale restaurant on the coast. He'd sounded hesitant before I threw that in, like he was on the verge of saying no.
I sighed. If he didn't like hiking, camping, and being outdoors, it wasn't the end of the world. Meanwhile, I loved looking at art, but I would probably annoy him when he wanted time to draw. Maybe I could shift into my meerkat and be his muse, but that would only work if the prints sold.
He'd mentioned wanting his own art studio one day, where he could teach others to sketch and paint. As his mate, I wanted that for him, too. That meant selling many prints and making a name for himself. I doubted he wanted to be known as "the meerkat artist."
Saturday morning,I showered, dressed, and left my apartment before the sky had turned from navy to purple in the east. I texted Gabe when I was five minutes away from his apartment. No response.
I pulled up in front of his building, car idling as I texted again."Hey. I'm here. You ready?"
After two minutes with no response, I called his cell phone. It went straight to voicemail.
Door knocking time. I pulled around back to the parking lot, turned into the only two-hour temporary spot left, and dashed up the concrete stairs to the building. The door was locked, so I pressed the intercom button for Gabe's apartment.
Still no answer.
A lady carrying a small dog held the door open for me, and I thanked her with mild trepidation. My mate lived in a building where they let strange alphas enter for no reason.
She headed down a first-floor hallway, and I took the stairs to the right two at a time. Finally, I was at Gabe's door.
I knocked and listened for movement. When I didn't hear anything, I knocked again. "Gabe? You home?"
"Huh? What?"
Now I heard mad rustling and steps in my direction. "Be right there! I'm … oh shit! I'm even later than I thought." The door swung open, and Gabe stood before me in nothing but a pair of boxers. His hair was still disheveled from sleep and he had a bit of dried spittle at the corner of his mouth. Even so, he looked damn good first thing in the morning.
"Hi."
"Hey. Come in! I'll be a minute." He pointed, extending his tattooed arm. The ink was even more vibrant after a week of healing, and the little meerkat looked happy to see me.
"Mika?" He waved to get my attention.
"Sorry!" I followed his pointing finger to a kitchenette table in the corner just past the door. Beside the table sat a loaded scroll-back chair that looked like it belonged on a patio. I shuffled a pile of sketchbooks and a few loose drawings from the seat to the crowded tabletop and sat.
Gabe's apartment was organized chaos. It was hard to call him a hoarder in such a small space, but he had a ton of stuff and nowhere to put it. The couch looked like a pull-out, but there was no space for the bed. He'd said it was an efficiency, so what I saw was all he had. He'd disappeared into the bathroom, the only other door besides the entrance. The sound of a shower running seemed overloud in the tight space.
A stack of unwashed dishes filled the sink in the opposite corner. I wanted to make myself useful, but at the same time, I couldn't steal his hot water. He needed it more for his shower.
I sighed. I'd spent my youth telling my siblings to pick up after themselves. It was only fair that my mate was a packrat and a bit of a slob.
I turned my attention to the drawings I'd displaced. Both were of me. The first was a courtroom drawing. Instead of sketching the full judge's bench, he had focused on my face. He'd captured my energy perfectly. I must have been talking about the importance of clean energy in California, or maybe the alternative plans that would keep two coal plants active for another ten years. I couldn't tell from the sketch if I was happy or angry, but my gaze was intense.
Gabe was an excellent sketcher, and fast. He'd completed the drawing in minutes, flipping the page to start another sketch the moment I left the stand.
The next loose drawing was on the same paper, larger than the sketchbook beside it. This one was of a meerkat curled up on a man's chest. I recognized the linen dress shirt Gabe had worn in court that day. In the background, a meerkat sat up on its hind legs on the television screen.
Gabe opened the bathroom door, and a cloud of steam billowed out. "Five more minutes, I swear."
"These are really good," I said.
He looked fantastic with his hair slicked back and wearing a pair of blue boxer briefs that left nothing to the imagination.
"Yeah?" He paid me no mind as he hopped over two stacks of books to stand before a plywood dresser. When he cracked the bottom drawer open, the stack closest to him toppled. I'd expected coffee table books, or maybe art theory, but these were all true crime dissertations and courtroom dramas. As the pileskidded over to me, I caught the title of the one on top,In Cold Bloodby Truman Capote.
"You read true crime books?" I asked.
"I read a bit of everything," he countered as he pulled a pair of cargo pants up over his briefs. They looked a little too tight to be comfortable.
"We're hiking four miles," I said. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"
