Page 4 of Painting Celia

What did this woman have against color? Her house was as unadorned as she was. It felt like a hotel, spacious and manicured but lacking personality.

Andrew picked up a tub of iced bottles from the kitchen island as soon as he reached it, Celia opening the sliding glass door to the backyard for him. There was no standing on ceremony, apparently.

León didn’t see anything else to carry out, so just smiled as he passed through the door after Andrew. She glanced outside as he passed, casually skipping the eye contact. Not regal, rude!

He emerged onto a narrow backyard but stopped dead as he saw the bejeweled view.

Jesus!

He held his breath, absorbing the unexpected colors and shapes. A glowing swimming pool hugged a wrought iron fenced retaining wall overlooking a spectacular view of downtown LA. The setting sun, directly before them, bathed the yard in an orange blaze. A low, rectangular pool house made of windows sat to the right, mirroring every color back at him.

This, he could paint. The dusky slopes, that star-strewn city, and the luminous still water under a fiery sunset.

The woman, Celia, passed him to walk down the sloped lawn. She and Andrew were headed for a heavy table to the left, already laden with covered platters. Behind it sat a gathering of low chairs encircling a rosy brick firepit. A shapely sun-kissed blond awaited them there.

León followed, feeling sulky again. Another painting missed.

Andrew set the drinks tub on the table with a hearty crash of partially melted ice. Then, nodding at the wood stacked ready in the firepit, he glanced at Celia.

“Not enough to do today? Usually, I build that.” She shrugged, looking away. With a shake of his head, Andrew pointed at León and the blond woman in turn. “Kelsey, León,” he said.

The blond smiled and handed him a cold bottle of beer on her way back up to the house. León sidled out of the way while the others bustled around, bringing out salad bowls and lighting the fire. Everyone knew what to do but him.

He tuned out their fuss and watched the sunset, thumb tapping impatiently against his thigh. On the drive up the canyon, around twisty hairpin roads hemmed on all sides by enigmatic private houses and elaborate gates, the low sun hadn’t hit his face once. It was blocked intentionally, he realized.

Hoarding the expensive view. It was immoral.

A lull behind him drew his attention, and he turned to find an empty plate being handed to him by the blond. Kelsey.

“All right!” Andrew said. “Let’s see what exotic dish—hey, this is barbecue!”

“Not barbecue,” Celia corrected, standing by and watching plates being filled. “It’s just ribs cooked in the oven.”

“Just, ha!” Andrew said, carrying a plate to a chair by the fire. “Nothing you cook is ‘just’ anything, girl.”

Kelsey followed with her own plate. “You can always count on Celia to out-cook anyone,” she lilted.

León saw Celia go still at the end of the table, her eyes darting quietly across the ground. The tension in her shoulders belied that persistent poker face. She didn’t like being singled out.

He placed a rib on his plate, then leaned in to her. “What’s wrong with showing off anyway?”

She inhaled sharply, snapping to attention, finally meeting his eyes.

He gave her a casual smile and turned to the firepit with his food.

•••

Plates empty, fire illuminating the little seating area, Celia sat back and tried to be invisible. New people were so hard for her.

“You can meet Trevor next time, León,” Andrew promised, peeling the label from his beer bottle. “I wish he’d been here.”

Kelsey looked up from where she draped nearly sideways in her chair. “That cologne was probably for him.”

Andrew made a face at her as she poked him with an outstretched foot.

“Too bad Trev’s off working,” he said. “He keeps you too busy to cause trouble.”

“Me! You’re the one who—” She squealed as Andrew touched her foot with his cold beer.

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