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It helped to keep us honest. We all had different things we did with the money from the first album, but most of those things had something to do with forwarding our career, or getting better.
“Everything good?” Seth asked us.
“Yeah, man, it’s gravy,” Ragnar said.
The theatre had once been a curling rink. Its conversion was an extreme example of the recycling craze that started in the early 90s. Even buildings were not exempt from the hysteria.
Truth be told, though, it wasn’t a bad idea, really. Christened “The Blue Heron Theater,” it was mostly used for plays, with the occasional band that needed a home. The theatre owners were quite charitable that way.
It also helped that the artistic director was an old friend of Seth Black’s. But who wasn’t? If there was anyone in the Seattle scene Seth didn’t know, I had yet to hear about it.
With help from the security staff, we shlepped everything into place.
“That was quick,” Ragnar said, when we finished the sound check.
“We’re getting good,” Stig agreed.
“Want to celebrate?” Ragnar asked.
“What exactly did you have in mind?” I asked.
“Well, I saw a cute little bar across the street.”
“Is he using ‘bar’ as a euphemism for girl now?” Stig asked.
“No, at least I hope not,” I chuckled.
Ragnar kept his eyes on me, making me feel uncomfortable.
“No, I’m not. You know I’m happily married. I actually meant bar,” he said, evenly.
“My bad,” I said, shrugging.
Sometimes Ragnar could have a real stick up his ass. Then again, I was a bachelor and knew nothing about the love and loyalty involved in marriage.
“Can we?” Stig asked.
“One drink?” I piled on.
“I promise, I will not get fucked up,” Stig added.
“Okay, one drink and then right back here. Don’t forget you have a concert to do,” Seth said.
“I’ll make sure they behave,” Ragnar told him.
I sometimes grew tired of Ragnar’s act, but also knew I would miss it if he ever stopped. It was nice to know he cared. He was more of a big brother, anyway— despite us only being six months apart in age.
“Cute, you said?” I asked.
“I think he meant quaint,” Stig suggested.
He wasn’t far off.
He had said cute but quaint was a lot closer to the reality. In any event, it would have to do. We were there and might as well make the best of it.
It turned out the best was yet to come. The beer was excellent, and the staff was friendly, but it was after we sat down that the Fates decided to do their thing.
I knew as soon as I saw her that I wanted her.
Those short shorts that were bearing her that juicy ass as she bent over a wooden table, drawing something in a sketchbook.
Those curves all over her body.
And her curly, long, fire-red hair.
I wanted to claim all of it as my own, and I knew right then and there that that was what I was going to do.
Chapter Four – Ashe
Thick black lines slashed across the expanse of white page. Entire worlds were being created from the tip of my quill. It was like giving birth, only far less painful and not as expensive.
It was more like being a goddess, but if you actually said it like that, it made you sound insane.
So, we had to use other, less accurate metaphors.
It was one of the fundamental things you learned in art school. How not to live up to the artistic stereotype. It didn’t always work, particularly with the “real artists.” But at least they tried.
It was a lesson Professor Hernandez didn’t seem to have learned. Then again, he wore his weirdness so well it appeared charming.
It was a trick I longed for him to teach me.
To be honest, it wasn’t my only longing. Most of the rest of the students probably lusted after him, too. Maybe even some of the boys. Jake, for sure…
Never mind the fact he was married. Cool and unavailable— that’s my type in a nutshell. No wonder I was still a virgin at 21!
I finished my drawing with a sense of victory, and replaced my pen in the pot, trying to quiet the riot in my mind.
There were two versions of me, as far as I could tell. There was the Ashe most of the world saw, and there was the person I was when I was drawing. It wasn’t the maddest thing I’d ever heard.
There was once a theory posited that everyone was three people: the person they think they are, the person everyone else sees them as, and the person they actually are. The trick was finding that third person.
This was the bar where I was supposed to be meeting Jake but so far all I was doing was sketching and waiting. I decided to move and go sit closer to the bar, both so that I could get a drink and also so that I would be near the door and could see him come in.
