Page 33 of Sight Unseen

After what I’d just heard and saw, my pulse raced, and I wondered if he was jealous. God, I was so delusional. And hopeful.

“No, nothing like that.” I hastened to explain. “I mean, I’d like to meet one of those kinda guys, because, to be honest, things have been a little dire in that department, if you know what I mean, but so far, nuh-huh. The well is dry.” I realized I was rambling.

Nate’s face darkened. He gripped his cup with white knuckles. My stomach gave a little squirm and I licked my lips.

“Anyway, enough of my non-existent sex life. No, I mean I met this artist guy, a sculpting teacher. He’s one of the people Marty recommended on his list. This guy swung by to see me.”

Nate’s fingers curled tighter around his coffee cup and his lips thinned.

I ignored the warning signs and went full steam ahead. “He’s had a few people in his classes over the years, well, a lot of years I guess, because he’s pretty old. Mr. Miyagi old, you know?”

Nate’s brow furrowed but I plowed on. “Anyway, he’s taught quite a few people like you, and he says because your art is so tactile, he’s seen some great results with artists creating their pottery and sculpture. He’s even had one student win an award at some special exhibition—”

Nate pushed himself off his stool, stood up and slapped his hands on the counter. “Let me get this straight. ‘Like me’? You mean blind? As in, can’t see a damn thing?”

“Well, yeah. Just like that.” I mean, what else could I say? It was the truth.

Nate glared. It was disconcerting, but oh boy, he still did it so well. I had a fleeting thought of the mutant called Cyclops from X-Men shooting fiery laser beams from his eyes and saw myself combusting into flames and ashes. “Anyway, I told him about you. He recognized your name from the stuff you exhibited before and he said he wanted to meet you.”

“What, here? At the house today?” Nate’s voice rose an octave.

“No, dumbass. Not here. Next week.”

“Then what’s happening today that isn’t far away? Cody, damn you, I swear, if you don’t stop talking in riddles…”

I clapped a hand to my forehead. “Your studio, you idiot. I wanted you to go back into your studio. I want you to remember how it used to be, get the old creative juices flowing.” I gestured to the open back door and the studio beyond, before I realized he wouldn’t see what I was doing. I dropped my hand and stared at him in frustration.

“No.” Nate shook his head vehemently. “Not going to happen.”

“But, Nate,” I wheedled. “Hear me out, please.” I played the best friend card. “You owe me for that time I saved your skinny ass from those pelicans that attacked you down at Grotto Bay. I took a bite for you. And for the time I let you win on all those stupid fairground games because your aim was shit and you were about to cry because you wanted a stupid Cabbage Patch doll. So I won one for you. Remember that, hot shot—not?”

“Cody.” Nate’s lips were twitching. I took that as a good sign. Maybe it was a smile and he wasn’t about to attack me and tear me apart with his teeth. Have I mentioned I’m a glass-half-full kind of guy? “We were ten years old. And it was a Furby, not a Cabbage Patch doll.”

“Whatever. Anyway, you owe me this one. If you do this for me today, and agree to meet Mr. Miyagi next week and hear him out, I’ll waive all the other debts you owe me from before and we’ll be even. And boy, that’s a lot of favors I’m not going to be cashing in. I’m going to end up the loser here.” I laid it on thick. “Think about it.”

I finished my pretzel and watched him, hopeful. The seed had been sown. All I could do was see if it grew.

Nate sat and took a sip of his coffee. “Why is this so important to you?” he asked finally. “How is me getting back into sculpting going to make you happy?”

Wow. Had it really been that easy? I’d been expecting angst and denial, not a Nate who seemed to give a damn about what I was saying.

I got off my stool and knelt beside him, my hands resting loosely on his knees. I was at eye level with his groin and I tried not to think of what I’d seen earlier. That would lead to madness.

I swallowed, my throat dry. “Because you and me, Nate, we’ve been best friends since we were kids. We’ve been through some shit together and we’ve always looked out for each other. This accident didn’t only happen to you. It happened to me too. I want to be the one making sure your life is as much the same as it could ever be. Because if I don’t, I’ve failed as a friend.” I gulped. The look of affection on Nate’s face brought a lump to my throat. “And because I need some shit to display at Artisana and I think you’re the man for the job.”

Nate gave a soft chuckle and cupped my face in his hands without even fumbling. Again—how the hell did he do that?

“That was some intense shit. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside.” I didn’t miss the tremor in his voice. “I’d be a complete bastard to say no after all that, wouldn’t I?” He lifted one hand and tugged at my ponytail. “I know you can be a manipulative little shit but somehow, right now, I don’t think I’ve been played.” His hand hovered over my cheek then pulled away. “Fine. Let’s go see what’s happened in the studio since I left it.”

He rolled his shoulders in that move he had when he got agitated but he didn’t let it stop him. I whooped and got to my feet. “Yeah!” I fist pumped the air and did a little shimmy.

“You’re dancing right now, aren’t you? Did you do the whole fist-pump thing as well?” Nate said drily.

I laughed. “You know me too well. Right, come with me. We have a quest to finish. Do you need your cane?”

“No, not if you’re there with me. I haven’t been down the path for a while. Too many obstacles and nooks and crannies. I really should look at getting it fixed.” Nate puffed out his cheeks.

Secretly I was thrilled. Nate considering fixing the path meant perhaps he was seriously considering using the studio more.