Page 2 of Painting Celia

A glance at his shabby boxes of painting gear unpacked in the corner provoked a low grumble. How long until he could spread them out and get to work? Missing opportunities like this hurt.

He looked back down as motion drew his eye. A lone dark-haired toddler stooped in the shallows, rousing waves of reflected color with chubby hands. Someone was watching that kid, right? Oh, there, a mama in the shadow.

Ah, but look!

The moment was made for a canvas. The orange angles above, cool purpled shadows below, ripples ringing a stray baby patting at the water.

Dammit!

This was why he’d come to LA, to paint colors like this, moments like this. He needed to get unpacked so he didn’t miss them. The light down there was already changing.

“Andrew,” he called out, getting a noise in response from deeper in the cramped apartment. “What if I don’t go out with you tonight? I could get out the small easel and do some painting while you’re gone.”

“You should meet people out here,” came the reply. “And I know you, once that easel’s out, it’ll stay out. There’s just no room.”

León scowled again at his useless boxes, an arm’s length away from his bedroll on the couch.

“Just come with me to Celia’s tonight,” Andrew called. “Tomorrow, I can help you look for an apartment.”

León tucked his hair behind an ear, heading back to the couch to sit heavily. He did need Andrew’s help.

Andrew came into the front room, tall and lean, running a hand over his freshly shaved head. His clothes were more stylish than usual, a white shirt gleaming against his earthy brown skin, and—dude, cologne? Wasn’t this supposed to be a casual backyard barbecue they were going to?

León’s scowl deepened. “Do I have to dress up for this?”

“Nah,” Andrew grinned. “I just like looking good.”

“Your head looks like a big brown egg.”

“And your stubble is starting to look like scruff. I’ve got another razor if you want to look decent.”

León slouched deeper into the couch, rolling his eyes to the ceiling.

“Come on, this is my crew,” Andrew said. “Don’t put off meeting them. They’re artists too. Trevor can introduce you at like ten galleries.”

Well, that would make going worth it.

“You sure he won’t mind helping?” León asked. “Didn’t he break up with you last year?”

Andrew shook his head as he gathered his phone and wallet. “You’re thinking of Tom, and he was earlier. Last year I was dating Celia.”

Right. The woman whose house they were going to. Andrew’s ability to stay friends with his exes was legendary.

If this Trevor person could introduce him around, he could sell a painting. That would buy some time. León only had enough money to last a few months, and there was no way he’d slink back to New York that quickly.

León smoothed down his rumpled T-shirt. Tranquilo.

Fine, he’d meet these friends of Andrew’s. And then paint! The buildings and bridges back home had lost their magic, but this new coast had things he’d never seen. If he could just get some space! And a subject. And inspiration. Easy. He had a whole month to discover the right raw, authentic shapes.

“Are you thinking about painting again?” Andrew asked. “Dude. You were more laid back the last time you visited.”

León shook his head, finally cracking a smile. “I didn’t have deadlines then.” He jumped up from the couch again. “Let’s get this social shit over with. I’m not changing clothes. Let’s just go.”

Andrew gave him an easy grin and reached for his car keys.

•••

Kelsey was first to arrive at Celia’s after work, shedding her slim jacket and canary yellow heels, slinging them as usual toward the nearest sofa. “Ten hours in those shoes,” she said, nursing one foot, balancing on the other.

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