Prior to photographing Roísín’s pieces, Lucy dropped her satchel and began pulling things from it. The first was a sketch book which surprised Roísín. The glass, with their expensive look, did not. Once the woman did take up her camera, Roísín was reluctantly gave up her position but did not lose her watchful eye. Purposely positioning herself on a good five feet from Elias, she remained silent as Lucy snapped away at the sculptures and soon began tapping her heel impatiently but quietly.
The wait was not actually long, however, so her anxiety was not the result of time or Lucy’s silence while documenting the pieces. Lucy’s smile left Roísín wondering what Lucy was thinking. Roísín took the opportunity to examine the sketch of the gallery since had of course never seen it and was stubbornly waiting until it was necessary to change that. From the drawing the place was indeed small yet would easily house her small body of work. In observing it, the grudging woman had to admit that Lucy had a fair hand- another surprise, one that earned the woman credibility with her temperamental new talent. Roísín was in the midst of placing each artwork within her mental conjuring of the space when Lucy finished with the camera and returned to her and Elias.
Lucy then pulled out her laptop, the quality of which Roísín appreciated easily given her day job. However she had not in the least expected to see brochure templates so soon, and despite herself, was eager to examine the layout Lucy had created. So much so in fact that Roísín did not notice Lucy peering towards the tarped plinth. ”What information-“ she began. Her question was cut short by Lucy’s own: “Is that item over there, the shrouded piece part of the showing, or a piece of Elias’s work?” Roísín’s red head came up with a startled jerk; Elias casually peered towards the indicated object.
It’s not mine, Lucy” he quickly said. Roísín was protesting even as the man stepped towards it.
“It’s a work in progress, not anything for the-…….show,“ she answered in a rush. Elias had removed the shroud in the middle of her sentence. His action revealed a rectangular ceramic block about a foot and a half in height and a foot wide. Cut into the corner facing the trio was a pair of hands rising from the base of the block. One, smaller than the other and clearly that of a child, was held palm up with the fingers folded backwards. The larger hand was folded over it in the same manner and possessed noticeably masculine contours. The fingers were spaced for basic C chord positioning on the fret board of a guitar. The sculptor had taken great care to mark every crease with a loving realism, yet the absence of a fret board could not be missed. The lack served to emphasize the hands and allowed for the upward angle of the wrists. Most strikingly, silver solder had been placed along the palms and backs of the hands following the veins. The tracing was thicker on the larger hand and much clearer, flowing up and through the fingers so as to flow perfectly into the smaller hand where it concentrated most heavily in the nails where they would be pressing the strings. Strange as the detail might be, it gave the sculpture a subdued magic quality which informed the relationship between the hands. One would have no difficulty imagining a child sitting on a father’s knee as they learned the chord.
Roísín stood silently behind Elias and Lucy, jaw clamped shut and feeling on fire from head to foot.
When Elias pulled back the shroud to reveal the mystery piece that Roisin tried so hard to keep separate from the main body of work, Lucy actually froze for a moment. The sculpture, a work in progress according to Roisin was by far one of the most interesting and detailed pieces of art she had seen for a very long time. In fact, not since her younger days in New York, had she ever seen a sculptor capture a moment like this.
Glancing back at Roisin, Lucy asked with surprise. “You did this?” As though almost incredulous with the find. The curator’s assistant had to show restraint, as the first thing that came to mind was to take as many photographs of it as she could, but by the look on Roisin’s face – the heated expression that had risen to her cheeks, something told Lucy that this was a very private piece. Possibly inspired from her own childhood. Who was to say? All Lucy knew was this was a beautiful example of the girl’s talent.
Slowly Lucy approached the sculpture, walking around it slowly, admiring the detail. The child’s hands and the father’s held over it. Lucy even found herself becoming emotional, just taking in what it meant to her. As an only child, her father rarely had time for her, and when he did it was the simple moments together that she held with her all these years. Lucy came to a stop and said to Elias.
“You were right about this girl.”
She then said to Roisin. “I understand your reluctance to show this, but let me say, its by far one of the most beautiful sculptures I have ever seen. If you do decide to finish it, even after the exhibition; I know someone that would pay a great deal for it.”
That being said, Lucy went back to where her laptop and sketch pad were, and started to pack away her things. Closing up her bag, she checked her iphone, only to see a text from Maxwell. A damned dinner party at his condo. Lucy grimaced. She knew that Mrs Hancock would be there and she despised the woman. One of society’s top bitches, and she had her claws sunk into Maxwell. It was not like Lucy had a thing for Maxwell, but she didn’t want to see Mrs Hancock’s influence affect the Gallery. Pocketing her phone, she turned back to the pair and said.
“Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to get the information I needed for the showing.” Lucy knew they had her card and that if anything cropped up, that they could contact her – day or night.
“I’ll show myself out.”
Lucy offered both a weak smile, again the face of a true business woman, and she left via the large sliding wood door that she came though.
<3>
“You did this?” Roísín did not miss the incredulity in Lucy’s voice, but she was for the moment attempting to decide how to prevent the woman from photographing the sculpture without breaking it and the others. To Lucy’s credit, she understood when it was best to refrain, however much she might itch to do just as Roísín thought. The woman gathered her things, making her thoughts plane to Elias as she headed out: “You were right about this girl.” To Roísín she stated that she knew someone who would pay a great deal for it even after the exhibition, as if Roísín cared for the money it would bring. Lucy excused herself politely, leaving Elias and Roísín standing silently until they heard the faint sound of the rolling door closing behind her. Immediately after the sound faded Elias rounded on Roísín:”A work in progress my ass! I see the etching lines where you’ve planned to cut away the back sides, but that’s the only other thing you’ve intended to do with it. It will be more than ready for the exhibition.”
Roísín’s burning eyes burned across the old man’s face. ”The fuck it will! I’m not showing it!” She stood before him with shoulders squared, very much as if she intended to lay into him save for her arms remaining crossed over her chest.
Elias’s eyes returned much of the flame in his student’s, but rather than speaking, he walked over to the sculpture and stared at it. Minutes passed. ”Look at it,” he said. ”Just look.” Reluctantly, her eyes moved from his back to the sculpture standing so vulnerably on the plinth. As if of their own accord, her feet moved forward until she was standing next to Elias. The ceramic gave rise to the very memory it was meant to immortalize: The first guitar lesson her father gave her. She was six years old sitting in his lap with the guitar in front of them.
”Place your fingers like this, Ro. Follow mine. See? Your other hand strums the cords at this end, and you press these to change the notes. It’s simple enough once you get started.”
”I can play like you, Daddy?”
Warm rumblings of laughter shook him: ”Yes, like me.”
Elias was speaking long before she realized: “…not a centerpiece, but the master work. They’ll place near the back as if it were hidden, but where the most people can see it. It will be the talk of the show, and you-“.
Roísín cut him off. ”No.”
He tensed, looking as if he would yell, then turned to her with a sadness she had never seen. ”Fine. Stay quiet, Roísín,” he replied as he walked out of the room. Her insides were brimming from the cut his words had made.
The Next Morning
Elias walked into the studio doing his best not to look defeated. Of all the people he dealt with in the art world, the girl had to be the most stubborn. He knew she could make something of herself, and likely in more than one field, but Elias had fought and lost one too many battles over pushing someone to pursue a path they did not want. Roísín was not there at that hour, so he walked into the main room to look at her sculpture again. It wasn’t there. Dismayed, he searched over the storage spaced and shelves but could not find it. Sighing, he rubbed his hand over his grey head and made for his office to email Lucy about sending the plaqquettes over to the gallery.
The hall from the main room to his office was short. In fact, it was actually more of a foyer since it was the space into which the main entrance opened. On the right, the door between the studio and his office was partially open, leaving a crack of light on the floor. It was the small test showing space he used to work out how to position pieces and to exhibit the work of some the kids he taught. But the lights were always off. Opening the door, he peered into the back. A lone light had been turned on. Beneath it set the now finished hand sculpture. Roísín had cut away from the rectangular backing to shape it like a lick of flame. It too had been faintly brushed with silver. Leaning against the bottom of the sculpture was a note written in a familiar messy scrawl: Send photos to her. Grinning like he’d won the lottery, Elias ran back to his studio to text Lucy and grab his camera.
~The next morning~
Lucy was actually early arriving for work at the Gallery. Well before Maxwell had probably surfaced from his bed, that is if he made it to bed at all. Having left the disastrous dinner party as things got heated, she could only imagine the fall out and what a scandal would be taking place when Felicity decided to sell her happy snaps to the highest bidder. Thankfully, Lucy had hot footed it out of there before the food fight commenced. No doubt she would be able to see the devastation at a later date.
Standing out at the entrance getting her keys out, she set down her latte on the street and then pushed the key into the lock, turning it and opening the door. A quick crouch and she picked up her morning brew, before pushing her way inside.
It was always a calming feeling to arrive well before Maxwell, since the dramas of his life tended to follow him through the door. Lucy sometimes wondered if that was half of his excitement, all the odd women that tended to fall at his feet and shower him with money. What was his secret? Dashing good looks? A smooth silver tongue? Or did his penis have some unnatural ability to charm the pants off the old broads? Lucy shuddered to think. Disgusting.
Making her way into her office, she set down her attache case and lap top bag, as well as her coffee, before going in behind her desk and turning on her desktop. Her diary was already opened up, and today she was going to be making preparations for arranging the gallery to accommodate Roisin’s sculptures. She had already arranged to have the gallery’s assistant – Thomas Brown to help her move the exhibit blocks around, and clear off the paintings and pictures that were from the last show.
Sitting down at her desk, she pulled out her cellphone, only to see a message from Elias. He must have sent it to her just a short time before she woke up. The text said that pictures of Roisin’s pieces were going to be coming through shortly, and this brought a smile to Lucy’s face. At last something was going right. Texting back quickly, Lucy thanked Elias for his diligence and that she looked forward to seeing the photographs.
Setting down her phone, Lucy took up her coffee cup and sipped. For once there was a good reason to smile. Lucy then sent a text to Roisin, asking if she would like to come down to the Gallery and check the layout herself.
<3>
Felicity had been up at the ass-crack of dawn, ready to start her day. Her plan was to spend a couple of hours getting some morning shots before she headed to Max’s gallery to get some shots before the art show later in the week.
Checking on her brother, she had found him with his head buried under his pillows and snoring away like he was sawing logs in his sleep. She chuckled, leaving a glass of water, two aspirin and steaming mug of coffee on his bedside table that was sure to bring him out of his alcohol-fueled coma.
Her camera slung about her neck and her brother’s spare apartment key in her pocket, she set out into the misty morning, just as the sun was peeking over the horizon.
Walking along the city streets, she got dozens of good shots, smiling the whole time as her camera clicked away. She paused a moment to scroll through her shots, smiling warmly of the one she got of Max while he was sleeping off his drunk. He looked so young.
Now one would think with the chaos of the dinner party the night before Felicity would have taken the chance to snap pics of B-List celebrities acting like spoiled children. She had her standards. She simply stepped back and observed. She didn’t need to cheapen her career by selling to tabloids. That wasn’t who she was.
Stopping at a Starbucks for a latte, she continued her trek to Max’s gallery, surprised to find that the door was unlocked. Shrugging, she stepped inside, instantly awed at the displays of art gracing practically every surface. It was a photographer’s dream. Latte forgotten, she began snapping pictures for her personal portfolio.
The sound of a large truck reversing into the loading bay at the back of the gallery alerted Lucy that Thomas had arrived for work. He was always punctual unlike Max who was probably still buried beneath his covers. Lucy took another sip from her latte, before leaving her office and taking the corridor down to the back storage facility, where the large rollerdoor was being opened from the outside. The white lights of the reversing truck flashed brightly, while Lucy stood on the dock with her arms folded. She paced back and forth a moment before coming to a stop and offering Thomas one of her elusive smiles as he parked the vehicle and got out. Wearing jeans and a blue shirt with the Light Box logo, he ambled along the side of the truck and up the stairs before coming to stand before his boss.
“Morning Lu…how was the dinner party last night?” Course, he had a cheeky expression cause the radio DJ at the party had been going on about it all morning. Lucy had no idea it had hit mass media.
“Drunken snobs hurling food at each other. The usual, you know?”
Thomas let out a loud laugh and slapped his thigh hard. “Bet Max was flat on his back when that broke out.” All Lucy could do was nod. That just made Thomas laugh even more. “I’m sure the pictures in the papers will do the radio show justice.”This had Lucy face palm and turn to go inside, as Thomas followed along behind her, trying to keep a straight face. No doubt Max was going to have some explaining to do when he arrived for work…that is IF he arrived.
Little did Lucy know that Max’s sister had already let herself into the gallery and had her camera out taking photographs of the exhibits. If it was one thing Lucy hated it was people wandering in before opening hours. She really should have locked the door.
“Excuse me, but what do you think your doing?”
The minute she realized who it was, her face took on a whole new look. Flushed red and seriously annoyed.
“Felicity. Where is your brother?”
<3>
Felicity had been at it a while, snapping preliminary pictures and getting scene shots. She found the area Lucy had already marked off for the new show and began taking angular shots, imagining the area filled with all kinds of imaginative and spectacular works.
As usual, when she gets involved in her work, she ignores everything and everyone around her, so she was unaware of Lucy’s entrance until her irritated voice interrupted her workflow.
“Excuse me, but what do you think your doing?”
Felicity stopped snapping pictures and turned to face her. Upon realizing who had invade the gallery, Lucy’s whole demeanor changed from irritated to hostile.
“Felicity. Where is your brother?”
“Hello…Lucy, was it? Hmm, yes…Max is sleeping off his hangover. He’ll be here when he wakes. And I’m taking some preliminary shots before the show this weekend. Then I thought I’d get some snaps of the new work for the brochures Max wanted to have done to hand out at the showing. I….hope that’s okay?”
Felicity wasn’t one to step on toes, but she got the feeling Lucy didn’t like her too much. She couldn’t understand why.
Right then the door to the gallery burst open, and a disheveled looking Maxwell emerged with dark sunglasses -which were hiding a black eye behind them. He had heard Felicity’s queries and regardless of whether it was true or not, he backed her up. Mainly to stave off world war three erupting inside the gallery at such an early hour.
“Right, quite right. My sister has kindly offered her services to do the brochures and the photography. It was all arranged last night.” The fake smile and the scruffy appearance didn’t fool anyone, in particular Thomas, who came through pushing an exhibit trolley to start loading up the previous collection to take them to the warehouse.
“Morning Max.” He didn’t go on about seeing the black eye, but knew he would get the gossip later of how he came to have one.
Lucy was fuming and ready to go on the attack when Max placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered.
“She is charging below cost…so smile and be grateful Lucy.” He then walked into her office and stole her coffee.
“Cancel all my appointments today. I’m not feeling well.”
Lucy was ready to kick him into next year. She then glared at Felicity.
“Carry on then.” Before marching into her own office and slamming the door.
<3>
After watching Max make a whirlwind through the place and Lucy storming off in a huff, Felicity was at a bit of a loss. Her workflow was interrupted and she lost the desire to take pictures. Slinging her camera over her shoulder, she found Max at his desk, face planted on the surface.
She closed the door quietly, mindful of his head.
“I don’t think your assistant like me very much, Maxie.” Felicity stated. “I don’t possibly know why, either. How’s the eye, by the way?”
“Sore.” Max said, taking off the dark shades to reveal the full extent of the damage. It was bad. Black, blue even a bit of pink. He was a sad and sorry sight. The dinner party turned into a massive disaster. A dead dog, ruined apartment, broken instruments, lost friends, the end of a relationship. It was the kind of night you just want to forget in a hurry.
“I had no idea Muriel had such a good left hook.” Max lamented, sighing as he went to take a sip from Lucy’s coffee. Glancing up at his sister, the only one who seemed to understand him, he then answered her in regards to Lucy.
“Lucy is very much the brains here. I’m just the pretty boy who brings in the aging birds and gets them to invest.” This was about as honest and raw as he was ever going to be, but that was because he was hurting, both his pride and his eye.
“Thank you for not taking pictures of the dinner party nightmare, I do appreciate your professionalism.”
Max went to his small bar fridge and took out an ice pack, coming back to place it on his face as he leaned back.
“Don’t worry about Lucy, she’ll come around….eventually.”
<3>
When Max slipped off his sunglasses, revealing the damage, Felicity covered her mouth in shock.
“Oh, Maxie. You should put a steak on that.” Felicity sighed.
“I had no idea Muriel had such a good left hook.”
“Hmm…reminds me of the time some red-headed pop star called her a dirty old windbag. I don’t think the lawyers were too happy with her after that one.” she chuckled, trying to get him to smile, but it didn’t seem to be effective. She understood Muriel had been a large part of his life. “I’ll talk to her if you’d like. We’ve had a good working relationship over the years.”
He then tried to explain about Lucy but she simply waved him off.
“You’re a very smart man when you put your mind to it and lay off the drink. Your liver can’t be doing you any favors. What would Mum and Dad think?” she questioned. “They did not spend every penny they had so we could follow our dreams just so you could piss it all way, Maxwell. Maybe it’s time you started to visit AA or something. I worry about you…a lot…when I’m away and I would hate to read in the papers about you dying from alcohol poisoning or drunk driving.”
Felicity was showing a side very few rarely see…but her family, including her brother were a very big part of her life and she didn’t want to lose any of them. Be it by their own stupidity or someone else’s.
“Thank you for not taking pictures of the dinner party nightmare, I do appreciate your professionalism.”
“I admit, I thought about it for half a second…then realized that wasn’t who I am. They’re just as human as the rest of us, just with much less success in their professional lives. They’re entitled to show a bit of freedom every now and again.” she shrugged.
“Don’t worry about Lucy, she’ll come around….eventually.”
“If you say so. I’m going to go finish up my work, then get these pictures over to the printers for your brochures. Lunch at Spagos later?”
Raw steak was not exactly something that Maxwell kept in his office bar fridge, and though the suggestion was a good one, the ice pack would have to suffice. He took it off momentarily and let out a weak sounding “Ahhh” sound. Yes, it still hurt. His thoughts turned to Muriel and he knew that the relationship had been on the rocks for some time, especially since he had repeatedly knocked back her marriage proposals; four times in a row.
“You are thoughtful, Sis, but to be honest I’m rather glad it’s over. I’d like to perhaps date someone that is at least closer to my age bracket than my own mothers.”
It was true. The dating of the old ducks had worn him ragged. He found them to be more high maintenance than younger women. What he needed was a massive change in how he lived, and that started with his drinking addiction. Max knew that he had probably worn out his liver with his constant nightly binges, but he needed to focus his energies on more practical things. His gallery for starters. Leaving Lucy in charge constantly had made the poor girl into the sad sack that she was. Barely time to herself and always off doing things for the Gallery in her own time. He wondered if she had a home life at all.
“I don’t think Mother and Father would be too impressed with me now, Sis. Burnt out at 35. You know a good bridge I could jump off?” Was he kidding? It was always hard to tell with him. Hearing his sister explain that she was going to finish the job of taking pictures, he gently waved her off.
“Lunch is wonderful. I shall either arrive by cab or the coroner’s van.”
<3>
