Page 51 of Finding New Dreams

After setting myself up, I carefully removed the sheet from the canvas I’d been working on. The sunrise was coming together nicely. It felt good. Right. Happy.

I picked up my brush and dove back in.

Minutes passed with nary a sound from the gallery or anywhere else until my phone buzzed in my pocket.

I dug my phone out as quickly as possible, leaving a smear of marigold on my pant leg. Disappointment cut a blue streak in my gut.

“Hey, Ozzy.”

“Don’t you ‘hey, Ozzy’ me, young man! I’ve been trying to get more than two words out of you for days. So try again!”

“I love you?”

Ozzy grumbled, and something rustled on his end. Probably him stroking his mustache as he did when he was agitated. Which was most of the time. “Don’t you sweet talk me, either. You’re dodging me, and I don’t like it.”

“Relax, Ozzy. Have a—”

“I am drinking! What I need is a damn mind-blowing piece of art that will keep me in mojitos for life!”

“I’m working every day. You have nothing to worry about.”

Ozzy harrumphed. “I’ll be the judge of that. Send me a picture.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Ha! So you admit it! You’ve got nothing!”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m not sending you a picture of a work in progress like it’s proof of life in a damn hostage negotiation. Just trust me, Ozzy. Remember when you used to do that?”

“I trust no one except Miss Bacardi, because she never lies to me.”

“Fine. I’m making more progress than I did in L.A. You can count on that.”

Ozzy sniffed. “Well, that’s something. But this client is champing at the bit, Flynn.”

“Then be the first-rate agent I know you are and distract him.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere.”

I waited.

“But I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’re a beautiful man, Ozzy.”

We ended the call, and I picked up my brush again.

Moments passed, but I couldn’t put paint to canvas again. I simply stared at the sunset melting its gold liquid through pink and purple clouds, spilling over the treeline onto the small figure resting on a park bench.

I couldn’t show Ozzy this. I couldn’t really show anyone. But if Ozzy saw it, he’d immediately discard it. Say it wasn’t my best work and definitely not what the client wanted.

But I hadn’t made this piece for him. It was for me, and it was what I wanted—needed—right now.

My phone buzzed again, but this time with a notification from the dating app. I opened it and immediately grinned at the selfie Rose had sent me of her hair tossed in luxurious curls, her makeup bright and shimmery, and a glimpse of two gauzy lilac straps on her bare shoulders.

ArtsyHotGuy3234: That just made my day :)

I stared at her picture a moment longer before saving it to my photos. Clarity washed over me once again and I picked up my brush.

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