Page 92 of Jagged

I laughed at him as I grabbed my energy drink from the desk. "The food trucks are going to kill us."

"I know." He grinned. "Don't make it stop."

"Dork." I waved, in my usual awkward way, and headed out.

Once outside, I stared down at my phone then texted Clem, Okay. Is this a scavenger hunt to find you?

Mhmm. She responded immediately. I can see the water from where I'm at. And the buildings are all in a straight line.

Well…that narrows it down, I teased as I began walking toward the harbor.

LOL. But I bet you're walking toward the harbor now though. Right?

Accurate. Next clue?

All of the buildings have windows facing the street and there is no parking on the street.

Is it cleaner there?

Uh huh. See? You know.

I chuckled and headed toward Gallery Row, as I liked to call it. In recent years, Seattle reserved an area specifically for upcoming artists and seasoned artists to display their work. The galleries began opening a few years back and residency there is always consistent, according to Tatiana anyway. But the thing is, I never tagged anything down there. Most of the buildings were restored or rejuvenated and even if I did drop some tags, it would be gone by now because of the gentrification.

About ten minutes passed on my walk until Clem finally offered another hint.

Estou à espera…

As soon as I saw her text, I knew. You're with Tati.

Sim.

I'd only ever met Tati down at the gallery to drop off or pick up Reagan. Her gallery show wasn't ready for display yet, and so chilling in a giant room with nothing but white, echoing walls wasn't my favorite thing. It reminded me too much of the institutions where I'd spent way too much time as a kid. The huge concrete slabs of juvenile detention, the emptiness of foster homes, the general iciness of it all. Not for me. Nowadays, I preferred small, warm, and cozy.

I jogged the rest of the way, until I landed at the double glass doors of the gallery. White paper still covered the storefront windows with the Coming Soon sign painted in fancy calligraphy in two places. As expected, I saw not a drop of street art. Not current or aged, not mine or any other. Just clean brick-faces, restored stoops, and refinished windowed storefronts greeted me.

Without hesitating, I pulled open the door, and the twinkling of a tiny bell announced my arrival. Right away, my shoes clunked on the plank floors, and the blast of white greeted me. Except this time, it wasn't as white as before. Tatiana's paintings, most of them bigger than me, hung proudly on the walls, while some stood on easels nearby. A few remained leaning against the wall, and the "in progress" nature of the situation reminded me that she still had a week before her opening. The murmur of voices in the back echoed through the place, and I made my way through the bountiful colors belonging to my bestie. Tati's work always comforted me, wrapping me in the emotions of the hues she chose to place on the canvas.

I found the two of them standing over an extra-large painting that Tati laid on the floor on top of messy drop cloths. Clem's waist-length hair hung dangerously close to the wet paint while she bent forward to look at whatever Tati pointed out. They spoke in Portuguese at a speed that left me in the lurch, but I watched them. I watched how kind and gentle Tatiana was with Clem, and the excitement Clem harbored about the work she saw. Clem tapped her palms together repeatedly while speaking rapid-fire, and when they stood up again, Tatiana's eyes twinkled with glee. She loved that Clem enjoyed her work, and that expression I'd seen before. In her tidy black Oxfords, Clem lifted to her tiptoes briefly when Tati showed her an image on her phone. I heard them listing off a few cities in Portugal, and when they said Óbidos, I knew they were talking about the medieval structures still standing there. Tati's floor painting bore only a skeletal structure of what she intended to paint. It made sense to me now, and following their conversation became slightly easier.

Tatiana saw me first and tossed me a smile right away. She shifted to English immediately and nodded in my direction. "Someone is watching us. Such a little creep."

"Only a little." Clem smiled when she saw me, and again, I noticed she lifted to her toes and clasped her hands together. "Hi."

"Hi." I chuckled and held my arms to her as I approached. She moved into them, accepting the hug with only a mild stiffness at first. As soon as my arms encircled her waist, she relaxed. I kissed her cheek, then tucked her hair behind her ears. "I found you. Do I get a prize?"

"I am the prize," she teased, a snicker escaping with it.

"Yes. You are." My insides warmed so fast that I felt my cheeks burn with it. My teeth grazed my lip and Clem's eyes twinkled while she gazed at me. I ran my thumb over her bottom lip, then glanced over to Tati. "Hello."

"Well, howdy." She grinned and tossed me a wink.

I turned back to Clem as she rested her hands on my shoulders, her fingers toying with the underside of my hair. Goosebumps coated my skin, and I found myself leaning into her gentle affection.

"I found my favorite," she said, bumping her forehead with mine briefly before glancing over at Tati. "Show her?"

"You sure can. I bear full responsibility for anything that happens afterward." Tati held her hands up in a gesture of surrender before motioning to the back of the gallery. "Go ahead."

Confusion puddled in me, but I followed Clem anyway when she took my hand and led me down the hall. Her cautious footfalls made me walk a little more carefully as we turned the corner into the only room of the place. Right away, this area made itself known as the working area for gallery set up. Tools, wood, workbenches, and the like filled the space along with canvas rolls and a ladder. Clem led me to a stack of canvases leaning up against the wall, one of which was covered by a giant blue sheet.

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