The Muse

Part Six

Josie was waiting for me when I got home. I was keen to tell her everything that had happened with her father and the end of my part in our business, as well as the little matter of the gossip that she would have to deal with. I didn't know how she'd take the news that there really was no more personal relationship left either.

I took my tie off and threw it in the trash can. Josie saw me do it and jumped up into my arms. "Baby!" she said, and kissed me sweetly. I started to tell her about what was going on, but she put her finger over my lips. "Before you say anything, let me worship at your feet, exalted master," she said and I gave her a puzzled look. She hopped down out of my clutches.

"These two new pieces, babe..." she started to say, but stopped.

"Any good?" I asked.

"At this point, I'm just completely encircled by you. Everything you do is beyond my ability to even conceive of, and all I can do is... be yours," she said, and held my hand.

"So, no? Yes?" I said, and she punched my arm.

"A million times yes, Michael. I feel like my purpose in life now is to serve these creations."

"Actually, remember what Raphael said? You're the star, and I'm the beggar at your feet," I said and we both laughed. "Oh yes, he's coming tonight, remember? I actually have a little burning to do a piece right now, do you mind?"

"Where do you want me?" Josie said and I gave her a loving kiss on the cheek.

"First, are you hungry? Need anything?" I walked into the kitchen and filled up a couple of big glasses with iced water.

"That ought to do it," Josie said. "Did you actually want to sketch me, or was I being presumptuous? I won't be offended if you say no. I mean, look at this collection, it's almost as if you're obsessed with me."

"Does that bother you?"

"Michael, oh my god no!" she said. "And anyway, it's not obsession. We're partners. We're in love."

"I'd like to sketch you if you don't mind. Just find any pose that you like and we'll see," I suggested. I looked at the small stack of pre-prepared canvases and found one that I'd washed in a similar style to the stained glass piece, but in blues and yellows instead of red hues. I would just need to get Josephine on there and it would be done.

I put on Veedon Fleece, a mystical melange of Celtic folk impressionism by Van Morrison, sometimes my favorite album.

I looked up, and was about to ask her to get undressed, but was happy to see she already had. She was standing in the middle of the room, with the grace and stature of a ballet dancer, looking down at the floor, with her arms crossed over her stomach. Perfect.

I started with a quick few lines on the canvas, showing her from her thighs up to her head. Many artists favored busts as their chosen form of portrait, but for Josie, and all the themes of sex, ambiguous spirituality and life giving motherhood in these pieces, I wanted to include the vagina and the belly as well. Her whole body featured in almost all of the pieces, though some were just her face.

It came together quickly, with most of the time being spent on small details, like her curling hair, eyelashes, and smile. As I began to make her crossed arms more defined, I found myself giving her a baby, suckling on her breast, which she was holding in her arms, and looking down at with divine love. Below her arms was her belly button and pubic hair, and again, the look was that of a stained glass window.

To add to the glass effect, I brushed over parts of the work and added highlights, which absolutely elevated the piece into something far more layered and fascinating, and unlike the first one, this was a classic. I put it down on the floor, picked up the first one and applied the same brush effects, and there it was. Something wonderful.

I smiled at Josie, and said, "thanks, sweetie. You can relax," but all she did was her stretching, which always got me going. I watched her for a second, then my eyes returned to the new pieces. They had this wonderful transparency about them, as if they were being viewed through a glass table, like a shimmer or a mirage. I set them both against the wall and gestured for Josie to come and see.

Feeling free of my stale business life, and having this beautiful nude girl holding my arm, while we looked at these tremendous pieces I'd just created for a show in New York City, I had to admit that everything had come together for me. Whether any of it would last or not was another matter, but at that moment, all was good and right.

Josie held my arm as she gazed at the pictures peacefully. "I'll be a mother one day," she said to herself, not intending for me to respond. But I heard her, and as that shadow returned to my heart for a moment, I thought about the end of our affair, not as some abstract notion, but as something tangible. I knew a time would come, not in the distant future, when I'd have to leave her. I sighed and held her tighter.

Josie turned to me with a glow in her eyes, unaware of my inner thoughts. "Just like our life together, these just get better and better," she said and kissed me. "I feel like I need to do something extraordinary for you, but all I can think of is letting you have me. It's the best thing I have to give."

"Just being together, in any way at all, is reward enough for me, Josie," I replied. It was sappy but it was true.

"Yes, but you'd still like to have me, right?" she said with a smile and we ran into the bedroom. Josie lay down on the bed on her tummy and I slapped her on the ass, which caused her to collapse in giggles. "How long do we have before Raphael gets here?" she asked. I looked at the clock, while removing my clothes.

"Three hours," I answered.

"That ought to be enough time," she said and pulled me down onto the bed.

_______

Josie and I set up the living room to accommodate guests as well as for optimum views of the pieces, though I figured the photographer would know best as to how to capture them on camera. Again, I felt quite nervous, in case Raphael was lukewarm, or worse, about the new work, and I could tell Josie was too.

We sat out on the fire escape and took in the cool evening air together. Josie noticed the basket with ashes in it, and asked me what I'd burned.

"All the sketches from that night, Jo." I hope you don't mind. "We got those two big pieces out of it, but there was nothing else in there that reminded me of you."

"Did you have to burn them, Michael?" she asked.

"Well, I felt like I did."

"Then, I stand by you."

"Believe me, they were part of the process, to get to that one picture, but none of it was really me, or really you. I hated them."

Josie held my arm, and we watched as Raphael parked and walked over the road towards my building, stopping cars like Genghis Khan storming through Asia. Behind him was a lanky man, struggling to carry a good amount of photographic gear, followed by a third person I didn't recognize.

Josie opened the door and waited for them, as I milled around in the kitchen pretending to be busy.

"The unearthly Josephine!" Raphael called out in a booming voice, and strode into the living room.

"How have you been, my dear? Being denied your presence this last week has been an inconceivable torment!" he rambled on, then began speaking some form of archaic Greek that I barely recognized.

"Hello Raphael," Josie said sweetly, as she took everyone's coats, resembling some kind of stylish early-60s TV housewife.

"Michael, Josephine. This is David Story, the finest art photographer in the country, and this is Lance Roderick."

Lance Roderick. Editor of numerous publications and art supplements, lecturer, author, critic and a man who had fingers in every pie in the art world. And he was standing in my living room. I didn't know if Josie would have heard of him though.

"Very nice to meet you both," I said and offered my hand to both men in turn. Story took my hand keenly, but Roderick circumvented the handshake but offered the minutest of smiles as compensation.

"Mr. Roderick," Josie spoke up. "I enjoyed your thesis on Schwitters and the Merzbau tremendously. What an endlessly fascinating subject! Wine anyone?"

Lance Roderick had this peculiar look on his face, but I could see a little blush forming, and an unmistakable air of joy about his person all of a sudden. Raphael laughed uproariously at this scene and slapped me on the back. "You are an absolute treasure, my dear!" he yelled out in his majestic voice. Josie was achieving legendary status.

Everyone accepted a glass of wine, as I brought the group to see the new work, although all of it was new for Story and Roderick. The two big pieces were set against the movie shelves, draped in the tarpaulin, hidden from view for now.

"Oh, wonderful, wonderful!" Story said, keenly inspecting the work. I looked at Roderick and observed that this rather funny little man in his little orange waistcoat and little bowtie was writing down notes in a little pad with an even littler pencil. There wasn't much emotion on his face to read, however.

Raphael looked at the pieces; the sepia pair, the sketch/oil hybrid duo and the new stained glass portraits, and both Josie and I stood there waiting in anticipation for his verdict. He didn't say anything, but his face was red. He stood close to me, looked me deep in the eye, then, rather shockingly, grabbed my face and gave me a giant sloppy smooch on the lips.

Everyone aside from Lance Roderick fell about laughing, as the lofty praise flowed from Raphael's lips. "This shall be the show of the year!" he shouted to me and took Josephine's hand, kissing it regally. "You are lightning in a bottle, a genie!" he said relatively softly to her. "And you, Michael, are scribe to Venus herself!" he yelled, then started to cough and sat down, gulping down another glass of wine.

"Want to see more?" I offered. Raphael waved his free hand in impatient encouragement. I turned towards the big pieces, and even Roderick seemed to have had his curiosity piqued. "Raphael, you have seen this one before," I said, pulling the tarp down to reveal the first large piece.

There was a gasp in the room, and I looked round. Roderick had his hand over his mouth.

"Magnificent," David Story said in a hushed tone, and I saw Raphael looking on with smug pleasure. I looked over at Josie and she gave me a nod. I pulled the tarp down in dramatic fashion, and the companion piece, perhaps even more striking than the other, was displayed in all its dazzling glory. Or perhaps nauseating overload. I wasn't sure, then considered that I ought not have shown this to Lance Roderick without getting Raphael's opinion first.

Well, it was too late now. I looked at everyone's faces. Story looked like he was enraptured in reverie, Roderick looked shocked, Josie was beaming, and Raphael had turned a deeper shade of red. He walked towards me, staggering slightly.

"Mon Dieu," he uttered in the quietest voice I'd ever heard from him, and fell to his knees before the work. I felt slightly embarrassed and hung back, seeking Josie's support. "You, my dear, dear friend... are the greatest living artist!" he bellowed and smashed his fist on the carpet. I looked at Josie and shook my head and smiled, seeing the humor in it, but she was taken in.

Raphael was my agent. And he was being my hype man, creating a scene of hysteria for the benefit of the two visitors, although he was obviously keen enough to carry out this absurd display. He ran over to me and administered the bear hug to end all bear hugs, and that was that. "You shall be famous, Michael Jones," he said to me, loud enough for Josie to hear. "And you my dear, will be the eternal star shining brightest in the night sky for all to gaze upon with reverence and desire!"

Lance Roderick sat down and took his first sip of wine. He had stopped writing his little notes since I pulled down the tarp from the big pieces, but then resumed, taking in all the work around him. He was hard to read. Josie sat down next to him and smiled sweetly, and I could tell he was disarmed by her beauty, wit and intelligence, despite the fact that he appeared to be homosexual.

"David!" Raphael called out. "Do what thou wilt!" he cried, as if he were a master of ceremonies at Circus Maximus, and Mr. Story scuttled off to position, light and photograph the pieces.

"Please photograph everything, as I want these images circulating tomorrow," he said, then spied an errant sketch, sitting off to the side unnoticed.

"Oh my, yes! Yes!" he said. "This absolutely must be included! Absolutely!" He showed it to us, and it was the infamous 'hot one' sketch that I had made of Josie that kicked this whole thing off, the one her mother had found. I had to agree with him. It was the only one done of her as a virgin, and would complete some kind of cycle in the theme of the exhibition.

"Oh, Raphael love," she said, standing up again. "I'm sorry, but that one remains with me, I must insist upon it." She started talking more like Elizabeth Bennet than her normal self at times like this.

"My dear child," Raphael answered. "You would deny the world the chance to view this rather comely yet saintly visage?"

"Perhaps I would," she said cheekily, and Raphael guffawed. I looked on, amused at the two of them. Raphael appeared to have finally met his match.

"Would you object to including it if it was marked as not for sale?"

"Perhaps I prefer keeping it to myself," she said, staring him down and taking a step forward, but I knew it was just a game at this point.

"What must I do to convince you, sweet Josephine?" he pleaded. "Must I get down on my knees and beg? I will get down on my knees and beg if that's what it takes!"

Josie stroked his face softly. "I'm only playing. Of course you can take it. But, it comes home with me when it's over. It must not be sold under any circumstances," she declared.

Raphael bowed his head in thanks. "You have my word of honor, m'lady. No harm shall come to it, and it shall be returned to your very bosom, on pain of death!" he said, and I wondered what his word of honor might be worth, if anything. However, if there was one person in this world that I doubted he would break a promise to and that would be Josephine, who now appeared to be his favorite human being on the planet, something we agreed on.

"I'll hold you to that," she replied, then smiled over at Lance Roderick, who despite himself, actually looked impressed. Story busied himself with snapping pictures, and Raphael put the sketch in a folder to bring back with him.

"Lance," Raphael said. "Any questions?"

"I think I have everything I need," he said quietly, the first thing he'd said since he got here.

"Good, good!" Raphael boomed. "I'm going to have some men come by first thing tomorrow morning and pack up everything you have so far and ship it to me in New York, yes? I will be overseeing its arrival and inventory personally." I nodded. "Then we discuss details as we get closer, finalize all the finer points."

Everyone stood up in the living room, and it felt as if we'd all just played Twister or something equally painfully intimate. "Michael. Questions? Josephine. Questions?" Raphael said. I shrugged, but Josephine stepped forward.

"It's my birthday on October the thirteenth. It's a Saturday this year. Can we have the opening then?"

"I don't see why not," Raphael answered without thinking. "Absolutely! Yes!" He started laughing and everyone relaxed again.

They all turned to leave. Lance Roderick turned to Josephine, bowed a little and said, "enchanté mademoiselle," then nodded to me.

"Give me more! More!" Raphael yelled from the stairwell, and we could hear him stomping like a mad king all the way down to the lobby, and Josie and I just looked at each other in disbelief. I closed the door.

"You! Are the greatest living artist!!!" she said at the top of her voice and moved in to hug me with a giggle.

"Even Raphael doesn't actually believe that crap," I said. "He doesn't know how to express himself in anything other than polar extremes. Everything is either worthless manure or the best thing since brown bread."

"Well, let's see how the critics and the public respond to your work, shall we? Not that they're qualified to judge you," she said in all apparent seriousness. It seemed like I was the only one not getting a messiah complex over this.

_______

Josie and I lay in bed and went over the day's events together, as there was a lot to catch up on. I filled her in on how it went at the office with her dad.

"Oh yes, by the way, I'm no longer a partner at the company," I said neutrally.

"I'm glad," she responded, not surprised. "I care for my dad, but you're not that person anymore. It's so obvious."

"You're right. As always. And as far as the business goes, he'll be better off without me. I'm sorry to say that I doubt we'll remain friends, Josie. I really am sorry if that affects you adversely."

She sighed. "I'll miss the crazy dinners and movie nights, but... I've changed too and I'm moving on as well. I'll always love them and be there for them, but I'm in a new world now."

I nodded in support. "And there's the small matter of some gossip floating around. I didn't ask or stick around to find out what it was about, but I can guess."

"I can also guess how it got started," Josie said.

"That and the stuff with your mom. Frank would have to be blind not to suspect something at least, but he didn't appear angry today. More just... over it."

"Right. I didn't want to mention it, as I didn't want to mess up your workflow, but my mom guessed everything. She went over all these little things that she'd seen and heard, and with the sketch and everything, she pieced it together, and for the most part she was right. Maybe she caught wind of the office talk as well. She still thought Miles was a real person though," she went on and laughed a little.

"Are you OK about it? What did she say?"

"I'm fine, really. You and I didn't do anything wrong, so I think she's just jealous that I'm escaping what she never could. She basically said I was sleeping with you to gain fame or further a career, like some kind of art prostitute."

"Did she really say we were sleeping together?"

"Oh yes, though she doesn't know that I'm staying here. She threatened to cut off my phone and have the car repossessed. But I transferred all the bills to my name, so I just have to pay them. She really was unhinged."

"Jesus. I'm sorry Josie. Can I help? Of course I can help with money, but you ought to be coming into some soon."

"My dad won't let anything like that happen to me, and he's still helping me pay for college next year. He'll always be on my side, even if my mom actually convinces him of all of this. She's just petty. I can't imagine what she'd say if she saw this work, and heard what these people are saying about you."

"About us," I butted in.

"Her brain would explode."

"I really doubt Frank would ever really believe it, because of how he sees you," I said. "When do you plan on going to visit them?"

Josie turned to me, and cuddled up to my chest. "I don't know. I've been in touch with my dad every day, just shooting the breeze, checking in to make sure we're both OK. I have no desire to talk to my mom until she cools off. But I think you're right, I really can't see the three of you remaining friends after this."

"And what about your friends?"

"I know, I've been slack. I'll make plans with them soon. The truth is, all I think about is us. Being together, this show, how I feel just being in the same room, or doing mundane chores. Being your model. Learning from you. Everything is magical," she said, smiling up at me.

"What did you think of Lance Roderick?" I asked after a pause.

"Oh, I think he's a fan of both of us, but mostly tried to hide it."