Perfectly Too Far (2 page)

Laughing
long, loud, but without any hint of rudeness, the taller woman
grabbed Judith by the hands and gave a squeeze. “Honey, you've
got this whole space to yourself. It's yours to fill!”

“
All
of it?” Judith heard her heart more than she felt it.

Her
teeth sparkled in the lights, and Lorraine let go so she could spread
her arms, turning in place. “All of it!”

This...
this is...

Unsure
what else to do, Judith looked down at her small wagon, then back to
the blank walls in a daze.

“
I
think I'll need more canvases,” she whispered.

By
the end of the third day, Judith had managed several things.

1. To
   cover one wall of the space with art she had completed before being
   invited to the gallery.
   

2. Shown
   Lorraine that she could knock over more than just paint brushes.
   

3. Fallen
   asleep in the middle of painting.
   

4. Actually
   run out
   of canvases.
   

5. Gotten
   a loan from Lorraine for more.
   

More
than that, she'd been given a few larger pieces to work on at her
heart's content, huge stretches of canvas that had been left behind
from a former showing.

“
Do
what you want with them,” Lorraine had shrugged, sipping what
was certainly her fifth cup of coffee. It made Judith think it was
all she ever drank.

Blown
away by the opportunity, Judith had propped the large squares on the
wall, set up her paints, and begun experimenting. The gallery was
starting to look like an actual, well, gallery. With her art almost
everywhere, she wanted to finish one of the bigger pieces to cover
the section that could be seen from the front window.

Dipping
her brush, she let the colors guide her, becoming so wrapped up in
watching the art come to life. Covered in sweat, splashes of paint,
and smelling like turpentine, Judith was a true mess.

But
she didn't care.

This
was what she loved, and she embraced it. It was why she wanted to
attend an art college in the first place. She was willing to scrape
by on what tiny money her mom could send her, endure the snide
remarks about it, all for just a chance at her dreams.

Staring
at the mixture of black as it bled into green, she didn't hear the
door open behind her. She certainly wasn't aware of the crisp,
perfectly shined shoes as they crossed the room. If he hadn't spoken,
Judith might have painted for another hour, unaware she had a visitor
at all.

That
voice was smooth and thick, rolling like cream and syrup all at once.
“You move beautifully, like a ballerina.”

Judith
jumped, kicking over her color pallet, erasing any chance she had to
claim such a compliment. She brushed her hair away, staring at the
man who was talking, apparently, to her.

His
outfit was darker than the paint on her canvas, a crisp vest over
dove-grey sleeves. With skin paler than her own, hair ebony in even
the bright lights, she couldn't help but feel this stranger was a
perfect combination of colorless tones.

Then
she noticed his eyes; intense, thoughtful, and bluer than they had
any right to be.

“
Uh,”
she said, feeling very out of her element.

“
Forgive
me, I saw you working through the window,” he indicated with
his sharp jaw, a smile cutting across his face. “I didn't know
there was an art gallery here.”

“
We're
not open till tomorrow,” she said, her own voice distant.
Shaking her head, clearing the haze and her throat all at once,
Judith dug her toe into the floor.
Did
he say I moved beautifully, before?

“
I
see,” he frowned, strolling to the side to get a better look at
her work in progress. “Will this be ready by tomorrow, do you
suppose?”

Blinking,
she twisted around to follow him with her eyes, finally turning to
face her own canvas. Peering at it, she wondered what had made him so
interested in it. It was more abstract than her usual stuff, and
while she was enjoying creating it, she didn't think it looked
particularly special. “I'm going to try to complete it, yes,
why do you ask?”

“
Well,
I'd like to buy it, of course,” he said.

“
What?
But it's not done and... and you don't even know how much I'm going
to charge for it!”

“
It
doesn't matter,” he shrugged, brushing his gaze her way,
looking her up and down languidly. It made Judith shiver, a cold ball
twisting in her belly. There was something about this man that was
setting her on edge. It had to be far more than just his shocking
good looks. “Whatever it is, I'll pay it.”

Lost,
she heard herself speak before she could control it. “Why?”

Wrinkling
his forehead, the man linked his hands behind his back and eyed her
as if she had made a joke. “Why? Because I like it, but more
than that, I enjoyed the glimpse I had of watching you
create
it.”

Blushing
furiously, she pulled her eyes away and stared around the room. She
was trying to avoid gawking at him without being so obvious. “Uh,
haha, I see. Um, well, I'm afraid I can't help you right now. Like I
said, we're not open till tomorrow, so if you want to come back
then...”

“
You
won't let me watch you paint?”

Judith
jerked around to meet his level gaze, her mouth open, but no sound
escaping. It was such a strange question. His eyes were so serious,
she knew he wasn't joking. “Who
are
you?”

His
smile was sideways, like he thought she had said something funny.
“You're not from around here, I take it?” Before she
could respond, her neck heating in a moment of insulted anger, he
lifted a palm to halt her. “I'm Benedict, and you are?”

“
Judith
Flight,” she said warily.

“
Flight,
like a bird,” he mused. “I like that. Well, Ms. Flight,
let me just clarify this. You don't want me here, because you are not
open yet. However, you'll be done with your work tomorrow, when I
am
allowed to come by and purchase your art?”

“
...Yes.”

He
ran his fingers through his short hair. “Perhaps I can make
that work. Then, have a good evening, Ms. Flight.” For a
moment, Judith thought he might bow. She was relieved when he only
turned on a polished heel, exiting out the door.

Staring
after him, she rubbed at her dirty cheek in wonderment.
Who
the hell was that? He didn't even give me his full name. Was he
trying to be mysterious or something?

She'd
encountered some 'characters' in Los Angeles during her two month
stay, so it didn't really surprise her to meet eccentric people. But
there was something especially odd about such a handsome, well
dressed man complimenting her out of the blue. And on top of that,
offering to buy her art without asking the price?

Cracking
her back, Judith sighed deeply, surveying her canvas.
I
wonder, if I do finish this, if he'll actually come back and buy it.
Smiling
at the idea, but secretly doubtful, she reached down and grabbed a
paper tag. It was where she would write the price for the show.

Taping
it to the red wall, she scribbled with a pen in her messy way,
marking the unfinished canvas as 'five thousand dollars.'

Laughing
at her own little game, she leaned back to eye her work in progress.
Worst
case, he doesn't buy it, no one buys it, and I drop the price the
next day to something realistic.

With
her mood lighter, Judith reached down, grabbed her paintbrush, and
went back to work.

****

The
morning of the gallery opening came far too fast.

Groggy
after her late night of painting, Judith had stumbled through her
shower, change of clothes, and cup of coffee before the reality
finally hit her.

Tonight
is actually my gallery show. My gallery show, mine! Oh my lord.

Dressing
in the nicest gown she had, a long thing of perfectly smooth black
that dipped low and showed off her shoulders and back, Judith did her
makeup as best she could with her shaking hands. She was ready in a
flash, spending the next few hours fidgeting around her apartment.

Finally,
with a deep inhale of air, she gathered her things and hurried to the
gallery space.

The
evening was warm, though Judith couldn't tell how much of that was
from her nervous sweating. Her flats clicking along the sidewalk like
a clock's hands. As she approached the gallery, she saw something
about the large front window was... different. Within a few feet, she
was able to tell what it was.

There,
in scrolling, curly letters, someone had painted the words, 'Gallery
of Flight' and then below, 'the art of Judith Flight.'

Seeing
this, the young woman felt her cheeks burning, her grin spreading
wide. Through the glass, the place was lit up like an orange sky, the
red walls especially adding to the effect.

Pushing
her way in, she saw Lorraine bending over a table. The tall woman's
hands were busily setting up stacks of cards. She turned at the sound
of Judith entering, the girls flashing each other excited looks.

“
Do
you like it?” Lorraine gushed, standing straight with her hands
clasped together. Judith didn't need to ask
what
she was referring to, she just stepped forward and wrapped the woman
in a tight hug.

“
Lorraine,
this is amazing! Did you set this all up by yourself?”

“
Psh,”
she laughed, disentangling herself so she could finish adjusting
things on the table. “It was nothing! You did all the real
work, the art looks fantastic.”

“
Do
you think I'll sell anything, then?” Judith didn't want to ask
so bluntly, to reveal her goals or her fears, but in the moment it
simply slipped out. Biting her lip, she studied the woman's face for
any hint of doubt, finding only that crooked smile.

“
Judith,
honestly. You're worrying too much. I'm sure you'll sell
something
on your first night. Now, help me with these. They're the
registration cards, so people can bid secretly by number on the art.”