Page 19 of Fast Currents
“Hey, Peggy,” she said, as if she hadn’t just been spread across me like peanut butter.
The rest of the seniors filtered in minutes later. I vacated my chair for its rightful occupant, choosing to hover at the back of the room while Lucy introduced the project to the adult class.
“Tonight, we’re sculpting with clay.” Her lips twitched as she caught my gaze. Maybe it was the unintentional pun, but she paused. The second of dead air was our downfall.
Gran turned in her seat, correctly guessing the object of Lucy’s attention. Her bored expression morphed to something I recognized too well: mischief. She hooted. “Step right up to the center, handsome! I hope you’re not going to be a prude who only offers his hands or some such nonsense.” She twirled a finger in the air. “Turn around. Let us get a good look at you.”
Heat burst beneath my cheeks.
“Mrs. Fenwick, that’s not what I—" Lucy started.
“I love a tight ass,” Gran complimented, beckoning me forward. “C’mon, Clay. Show us what you’re working with.”
“Ma’am.” My sternest tone had no visible effect on Gran’s enthusiasm. The other ladies tittered.
One brave woman in a brightly colored sweater called, “Don’t be shy. We love a man in uniform.”
“Or out of it,” her friend mumbled softly. Unfortunately for me, her voice carried.
A grumbling started from one of the married men, his browns beetled in a severe frown.
“If the ladies get a looker, then do we get Lucy?” Mr. Reyes called out.
Gran cackled. “Sounds fair. Nudes for all! We’re celebrating the human form tonight.”
“NO.” My answer boomed across the small space.
Lucy winced. “What happened to leading with questions?” she asked, her stare challenging me from across the room.
I stood, fists and jaw clenched. These fools were getting Lucy to model over my dead body. “There will be no models for tonight’s class,” I bit out.
Lucy jumped in with instructions for their clay before Gran or anyone else could protest further. The class focused on their new creations, thankfully dropping any suggestions that Lucy or I model for them.
I circulated, wiping up bits of clay and trying to keep things tidy. Lucy spent time with each of her students, offering suggestions and demonstrating different sculpting techniques. Her patience and knowledge impressed me. My sculpting skills ended at rolling out a snake.
Slowly, the seniors’ projects took shape. Shirley Reynolds managed a half-decent depiction of one of the wild foxes that roamed the island. Pam crafted a surprisingly accurate sailboat, complete with sails.
Gran kept shooting me sideways glances. I studiously avoided her end of the table, afraid of what I’d find. Lucy approached Gran’s station near the end of class, stopping dead with a wide-eyed look. She inhaled deeply before stepping up to Gran with a forced smile.
Maybe it was cowardly, but Lucy’s expression sent me in the opposite direction. Some chaperone I made. Tangling with Gran wasn’t for the faint of heart.
Lucy finished her rounds and stepped to the center of the room. “Okay, class. It’s time to wrap up. Please put your projects on the back table to dry. Next week, we meet at the Madrone Acres Farm. We’ll be drawing farm animals. They’ve got an alpaca, a pig, and a few chickens for us to use as models.”
“You’ve already got the jackass covered,” Gran muttered, glaring my way.
She could die mad. It was one thing to sass me, another to pressure Lucy.
“Good night, everyone,” I said firmly, wanting nothing more than to be rid of our adult-ish nuisances.
Most of the class cleared out quickly, but Gran lingered, slowly carrying her project to the drying table. She cast one last dark look my way before gathering her purse and shuffling for the exit.
I collapsed into a folding chair for the second time that night, utterly wrung out. “That was a disaster,” I moaned.
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“What class were you in? They were all undressing us with their eyes. I’m not a piece of meat.”
“Robertson, there you go again, talking about your meat.” Her lips twitched. “At least the ladies weren’t comparing parts of your anatomy to fruit.” She held her hands up as if cupping her breasts. “Apparently, I’m sporting a nice pair of honeycrisps.”
