Page 6 of Meet Mason, the Billionaire

I got to work. First I laid down the background, an emerald green mixed with chlorophyll and lime, with a hint of silvery-white in the center to simulate the sun shining through the water.

That took a couple of hours. I thought about Mason almost the entire time. I wondered what kind of music he listened to. I wondered if he was going to call me for real, or had just asked for my number to avoid an awkward parting.

But most of all, I wondered if he were single.

Once the background was ready, I went to the earlier half—which had dried by then, gotta love acrylics—and started laying down the ‘main’ mermaid. Only I didn’t want to paint a female mermaid any longer.

I changed the torso, making it broad-shouldered before tapering down to a narrow waist. Working from memory, I recreated Mason’s face as best I could. I added long, flowing hair like seaweed or kelp so it wouldn’t look EXACTLY like him.

I was putting in details on the hard knots of muscle in his lower abdomen when I realized I had painted a pure thirst trap. People were stopping on the sidewalk to take pictures. Especially women.

If I were a smarter artist than I was, I’d have gotten off my ladder and posed for selfies with the pic takers. Talked to them, dropped my name and my social media pages. That’s how you build a platform. Being a good artist, or even a great artist, had surprisingly little to do with success, believe it or not.

I put in the details on his silver-scaled lower half. I was a little disappointed I couldn’t get away with painting Mason’s magnificent cock. Oh well, I could do an X-rated version of my own later if I wanted to.

I should have moved on, started painting the rest of the mural. Yet, I remained there until the late afternoon shadows stretched out and darkened my brick wall canvas, putting little details on Mason the Merman.

When I finally packed it in for the day, as the streetlights came on with a buzz, I stood back and appreciated my work. Jesus Christ, even with kelp hair it looked just like him. I hoped he wouldn’t take offense.

I shook my head and sighed. The fact of the matter was, I didn’t know if Mason was even going to call me or not. I hoped that he would, but I was wary of getting my hopes up too high.

Who am I kidding? I’m pink clouding right now. God, I hope he calls me. I want to see him again. Maybe this time we’ll even learn each other’s last names or something crazy like that.

“Hoo doggies,” I said with a sigh. “You’ve really got it bad, don’t you?”

“Who’s really got it bad?”

I turned around to find my friend Fish Man standing there, his tablet tucked under a muscular arm. Fish Man was a digital artist, and one of my oldest friends in the city. He got his name because he always wears a Luchador mask and is frequently bare-chested. His mask had a defined piscine aspect to it.

“Hey, Fish,” I said with a grin. “What do you think?”

I gestured grandly at my mural and Fish Man gave an appreciative grunt.

“Mmm. I love it.”

“Thanks.”

“Is that man in the picture anyone in particular? He doesn’t look familiar.”

“It’s the face of a man I met last night at a party.” A grin crossed my face. “Well, actually, those are his abs, too…”

He laughed. “Did you at least dance with him first?”

“We talked,” I said defensively. “We hit it off like old friends, with plenty of sizzle, that is.”

Fish Man nodded. “Tell me this isn’t going to be another Brian Schrauth.”

I blew out a razz at him. “Don’t speak that name around me.”

“Then I guess you don’t want to hear that he was asking about you at Junebug’s party the other night.”

“Oh god,” I groaned. “What, was he asking if I were dating anyone?”

“No, he was actually asking if you were still looking for a place to exhibit your work.”

“Always. I’m always looking for that, but I don’t want to pay the price Brian probably wants me to pay.”

Fish Man shrugged. “Just thought I’d pass it along. So… are you going to see the Mermaid Man again?”

---