Page 6 of Dating His Brother

“Then why do you do it?”

“I told you. Because I love painting. Most people don’t become artists for the money. They’d be sadly disappointed if they did.”

“Not the ones I know,” I argued. “They all seem to be doing pretty well for themselves, but of course they show their work in actual galleries. Not in the park.”

“Good for them. But once people know who you are and a gallery is representing you, they expect you to make a certain kind of art and to meet a demand. You’re not doing it for yourself or for the love of art anymore. It becomes just like any other job and squashes your creativity.”

“But you get a nice place to live and you meet all sorts of interesting people,” I pointed out. “Celebrities, even. Wouldn’t you want actors and big politicians hanging your art in their homes?”

“The people who have bought my work are just as important to me, even if none of them are household names,” he said, sipping his beer. “Oh, you’ve got to try something.” He waved to the bartender. “An order of scotch eggs please.”

“Scotch eggs?” I questioned.

“You’ve never heard of those either? Be prepared to be amazed.”

The bartender returned a while later with a tray of hard boiled eggs wrapped in sausage, breaded and cut in half. There was a tangy sauce to dip them in, and once again…he was right. They were delicious and unlike anything I had ever had before.

I studied him as he took big bites, closing his eyes to savor the taste each time. He seemed to be enjoying his cheap beer just as much. Meanwhile, I had already drank down most of my cocktail and was only nibbling on the eggs a little at a time. They were rather big, and I thought I’d look ridiculous if I took a huge bite. Dawson didn’t seem to care though.

“You drink too fast and you’re too polite of a diner,” he scolded. “You have to take a big bite so you get all the flavors at once, and then you have to chew it slowly so you can enjoy every second of it.”

“I thought the only rules for eating were to have good table manners,” I defended. “And it would be bad manners if I tried to eat like you are.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. The only rule for eating is to enjoy the food,” he shot back. “That’s my philosophy on life too. The only rule is to enjoy it.”

Maybe there was a time when I would have agreed with him, but after spending my whole life doing nothing but enjoying all the pleasures my wealth could afford…I was realizing now it wasn’t such a sustainable way to live.

“I think your logic is flawed,” I told him, drinking down the last of my cocktail.

“How about another?” He tipped his head toward my empty glass.

I considered it for a moment, since it had been an enlightening time with him so far. But I decided I should quit while I was ahead with my new favorite cocktail and snack, and leave. What would he and I really have to talk about after a while anyway?

“No thanks, Dawson. It was nice meeting you though. Try not to choke on your big bites of food or get all your stuff stolen in the park. And thanks for the drink.”

“Nice meeting you too, Isabella,” he smiled, looking disappointed. But he accepted his defeat gracefully, at least.

I grabbed my jacket and purse and walked out, not looking back. I knew I’d never see Dawson again, but at least I did something different than usual with my afternoon. Maybe that would be enough to cheer me up.

3

Dawson

Iordered another beer and watched Isabella walk out of the bar. She was a beauty with long red wavy hair in perfect waves like a movie star, with pale porcelain skin and big green eyes to match, though I noticed she usually kept them hidden behind her expensive sunglasses. She was a painting just waiting to happen, but what could I do? I couldn’t very well force her to sit for a portrait anymore than I could force her to join me for a second round. I was kind of amazed she agreed to the first drink, to be honest. She seemed too good for a guy like me.

“You struck out,” old man Rudy teased from the next table.

“You may see it that way. But I got her company for a little bit. That’s good enough for me.”

He grunted and chugged his mug of beer, slamming it to the table as he wiped dripping streams of it from his mouth and chin. “That’s what’s wrong with you men today. No romance. You don’t fight for the women you love. Back in my day I would have asked a woman like that to marry me right off the bat.”

I winced. “There’s a reason divorce rates skyrocketed when people your age were in their prime.”

He waved me off and kept drinking, while I turned my thoughts back to Izzy. There was something about her, and I could have sworn there was a spark between us.

Oh well, I thought. I had my chance. It didn’t work out. That was that. Maybe I could have laid it on a little thicker, but it might have scared her away just as fast.

I finished my beer and started on the walk home. I still thought about her the whole way. But maybe it was all for the best. She seemed uppity and definitely had an air of wealth to her. She reminded me too much of my family, which was precisely everything I wanted to avoid like the plague.

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