Page 28 of Something Like Forever
“The truth! That if hewants to see you, he knows what he’s got to do. Or don’t sayanything at all. That’s up to you.”
The unease in William’svoice was transparent. “I don’t want to hurt him.”
Ben rubbed his foreheadand dropped his hand. “Listen, Tim and I won’t always be here.We’re not that much older, but we’ll probably die before he does.When that happens, I want Jason to already have a life outside ofus. I really hope that life is with you, but even if it isn’t, thisis a lesson he needs to learn. So I’m asking you, even though itmakes me sick to my stomach, to stay away. You can keep calling himand remain in touch, but if he wants to see you again, he needs totravel there to do so.”
The line was silent for a long time. Benwaited patiently, knowing it wasn’t an easy decision.
“Okay,” William said atlast. “I’ll do it.”
Ben didn’t feelvictorious. By the time he hung up the phone, he felt downrightashamed that he really had found a way to take away Jason’stoys.
* * * * *
Tim picked up thepaintbrush, pointed it at the easel and canvas in front of him, andgrinned. After thinking about it briefly, he angled his body so thecamera could see him better, expression frozen except for his eyes,which he moved to look at the photographer.
“Just act natural,” Kellyrepeated, lowering the camera.
“Okay.” Tim jabbed at thecanvas with his brush, even though no paint had been applied. Theywere in the new studio space at the Eric Conroy Gallery, which hadbeen an instant success. Over the last few months, dozens ofartists had come here to paint, and he knew customers enjoyed thetours because money talked. Sales were up. Way up! Over the pastweek, promotional photos had been taken and videos recorded to showto the clients in Japan and help convince them of the concept.That’s why Tim was facing the lens now.
“You used to model forMarcello,” Kelly said. “Right?”
Tim nodded, a grin stillplastered on his face. “Uh huh.”
“Must have been a longtime ago.”
“Hey!” Tim scowledinstead. “Is that a joke about my age?”
Kelly shook his head.“You’ve forgotten how to vogue.”
“I can vogue!” Tim said,changing his posture. He placed his hand on his chin and focused athoughtful—perhaps even enigmatic—gaze on the canvas.
“God help us,” Kelly said,raising the camera to take a photo. He grimaced while doingso.
Tim let his posture golimp. “I wasn’t very good back then either.”
“You were,” Kelly said.“I’ve seen the negatives. The best were when you forgot about thecamera. The one where a guy is sticking his tongue in your ear ismy favorite”
“Get someone in here then.Just don’t tell my husband.”
Kelly laughed. “I have a better idea.Instead of me taking a photo of you pretending to paint, why don’tyou paint?”
“Oh.” Tim shifteduncomfortably. “That’s kind of private.”
“Meaning?”
“I usually don’t have anaudience.”
Kelly raised an eyebrow.Then he snorted. “I understand. Tell you what, I’ll call Marcelloand ask him to send a real artist over so we can get this shootdone.”
“I am a realartist!”
“Of course you are, butyou can’t perform, so we can either cuddle and talk about yourfeelings, or we’ll get someone in here capable of getting itup.”
Tim glared, eyes locked onKelly as he grabbed the nearest supplies and moved a mountedpalette closer. He squeezed paint onto this, then went to work. Hedidn’t have many colors handy, just red, black, brown, and orange.Enough to get his point across. He started painting Kelly, coaxingout the shape of his body in broad strokes, and moving upward towork on the face during the brief instances when the camera waslowered. He ignored the sound of shuffling feet and refused to tellKelly to stand still, wanting to prove that he could paint evenwith his subject in motion. Soon he had the basics committed tocanvas and enough of a mental image that he was able to completelyignore Kelly, who was now taking photos from a distance. Eventuallyhe came close again.
“Let’s see it,” hesaid.
Tim continued painting,his strokes furious. “I’m not finished.”
