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I allow a multitude of artists to put up their work for a short time, and twice a month, I transform my café into a gallery.
On those nights, the café is open to the public, allowing them to purchase the artist’s work.
Sometimes, the artist even chooses to make extra pieces just to have them for sale at the event.
The café is empty now except for Oakleigh and her boyfriend or husband.
Oakleigh settles onto a stool at one of the high bar tables.
I take a seat across from her when she takes the first sip of her iced matcha.
Her eyes go wide. “Oh my God, this is phenomenal.”
A flush of heat rushes through my cheeks. “Thank you. I try to come up with some yummy flavor combinations. One of the cats knocked over the lavender, and it just hit me.”
Oakleigh nods, smiling brightly. “Isn’t it funny how some of our best ideas come to us in the oddest moments?”
Oakleigh continues to chat with me about her art, the direction it was in, and the new direction it’s shifting to.
I try to focus on everything she’s telling me, but my gaze drifts over Oakleigh’s shoulder to the man she came in with.
There’s something about him that’s so captivating to me.
I don’t know if it’s how big and bulky he is or if it’s that long, perfectly shaped beard.
“I’m really trying to get my pieces to have raw energy you can feel. I want people to think I’m ripping my paintings straight out of my heart, splattering them onto the canvas they’re viewing.” She pauses to laugh nervously. “I hope that paints a clear image of what my overall goal is as an artist.”
I take a few moments and look at her. “You only started painting a few months ago?”
“Yeah, believe it or not.” She pauses, glances around the café, and continues, “I used to draw a bit back in high school, but it wasn’t ever anything that I was dead set on pursuing. It just sort of fell into my lap, if that makes sense.”
“It does. A lot of us fall into art. Then there are others who know they want to do it from the moment they’re born. Although, I wasn’t one of them. I am much like you, falling into my craft.”
Oakleigh smiles. “So, what is your craft?”
I motion with my hand. “I’m sure you can tell I like to create coffee concoctions, but I absolutely adore making the trees, tunnels, everything.”
Oakleigh looks around the café, her eyes going wide. “So, you made all of the furniture.”
I nod, really proud of myself. “Yes, I did. I wrapped everything with rope and made it cat-durable.”
Oakleigh and I chat for another twenty minutes before her boyfriend walks over to us.
“Astra, this is Python, my friend.”
Python.
What kind of name is Python?
Then I see it. He’s wearing a cut.
I scan my eyes over his cut, not recognizing the motorcycle club. “Is this a new club?”
He smirks. “Yeah, we’re still in the process of setting up our charter, but we’re here. Oakleigh’s man is the VP.”
I raise my brows. “Oh, I had assumed you were Oakleigh’s man.”
Python chuckles. “No, I’m not tied down.”
