Page 26 of Now That It's You
“About thirty-six inches from pedestal to the tip of the wing.”
“I’m looking for something a little bigger.”
Kyle nodded and thumbed through the pages until he reached the middle of the book. He turned it back around and held it out, pointing to a piece he’d finished a few months ago. “This one in the bottom right corner is nearly eight feet tall. There’s a collector in New Mexico who’s been asking about it, but it’s not sold yet.”
“Very nice. I’m not sure my wife would go for it. That’s a little too big.” He frowned, then pointed to a photo in the top right corner. “How about this one?”
Kyle felt the air leave his lungs. He swallowed hard, resisting the urge to shove the guy’s finger off the page.
“I don’t think so.”
“No? It looks like it’s about the right size, and it’s a gorgeous interpretation of the female form. All those curves and flowing lines and?—”
“That one’s not for sale.”
Chase gave him a look. “Everything’s for sale for the right price.”
“Not that one.”
He stared at Kyle a moment, then cocked his head to the side and gave him an appraising look. “I’d pay double your asking price, whatever it is.”
Kyle closed the book and set it back on the seat. “Why don’t I just email you a few images of some of my other pieces? That might be easier. I’ll make sure to include all the measurements so you know how the piece might fit into your space.”
Chase seemed to pause for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough.”
Kyle stuck his hand out. “Thank you, sir, for the work.”
“Don’t mention it. Thank you, for driving all the way out here. Especially so soon after your brother passed.”
“I needed the distraction,” he said. “The alone time.”
“I remember that,” he said, leaning back against Kyle’s truck. “I lost my brother ten years ago. Did I tell you that?”
“No, sir.”
“Killed by a drunk driver.”
“I’m sorry.”
“The hell of it was that we hadn’t talked for almost a year.” Chase raked a hand through his hair. “He’d gotten pissed at me about something I don’t even remember now. Anyway, took me a long time to stop beating myself up for that.”
“I think I’m a long way from that.” Why was he feeling so compelled to share with a stranger? “From getting over the regret, I mean.”
His thoughts drifted back to that dark time after the canceled wedding. He remembered the acrid taste of fear when Matt wouldn’t get out of bed for a week. When he wouldn’t eat or shower or even talk about what happened. If Kyle hadn’t dragged him to the doctor, if the doctor hadn’t understood the gravity of clinical depression?—
“You never really get over it,” Chase said, jarring Kyle back to the present. “You just figure out how to live with all the little regrets poking at your guts like needles and leaving you all sore on the inside.”
Kyle nodded, not able to formulate a response with his own collection of needles stabbing into his spleen.
“Anyway,” Chase said, “You’ll get there eventually. I can promise you that.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The producer looked at him. “The name’s Chase. You can call me that, you know. You don’t have to call me sir.”
“Thank you, Chase.”
He grinned. “You know, I have a lot of friends who are really into art. Why don’t you give me a few more business cards so I can hand them out?”
