Page 65 of Spike

All of that maysound horrible, and believe me it was, but in stark contrast of the livingconditions were the beautiful sculptures found throughout the place. At least adozen of them. Bold, metallic, abstract, works that were unlike anything I’dever seen.

“Did you makethese?” I whispered.

Spike smiled. “Doyou like them?”

“They’restunning,” I replied, studying each piece.

“Why are youwhispering?”

I laughed. “Idon’t know. They’re all just so beautiful, I feel like I’m in a museum or something.”

“Thank you, but Idoubt my work would ever be featured in a museum or gallery.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, I’dhave to be a great sculptor for anyone to take notice, and I’m not great, I’mjust…me. And, secondly, I’d have to show my work to another living soul.Besides you, of course.”

I was stunned.“You’ve never shown these to anyone?”

He shook his head.“You’re the first.”

“What about yourteachers?”

“Self-taught. Justlike everything else. Once I figured out how to weld, my mind began to floodwith ideas. I searched the internet for anything I could find on the subject aswell as studying the works of the modern masters, Ai Weiwei, Louise Bourgeois,and Antony Gormley.”

“Spike, that’sincredible. These are amazing. I can’t believe you’re sharing them with me.”

“You really likemy stuff?”

“I love them.Especially this one,” I said, pointing to the piece at the center of the room.

The sculpture wasaround eight feet tall and appeared to be made entirely from pieces of rustedmetal. The various shades of oxidized red metal, formed into the flames thatdanced around the wire frame of a woman, reaching upwards to a cluster of starswhich hung high over her head.

“It’s based onJoan of Arc,” Spike said.

“It’s so beautifulit makes me want to cry.”

“It’s for you,” hesaid, taking my hands in his.

“What?”

“I started it thenight after we met again at Devlin’s shop, and I finished last night. Here.Take a look,” he said, showing me an engraved plaque attached to the bottom ofthe sculpture which read, “For Trixie. Too busy reaching for heaven to betouched by the flames of hell.”

I burst into tearsand dropped my head to his chest as I wrapped my arms around his waist.“Spike.”

“Oh, honey, Ididn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s just, so…beautiful.”

“You’rebeautiful.” He lifted my chin. “I need to taste you or I’m gonna go crazy.”

I licked my lips.“I don’t know what that means.”

He slid his handbetween my legs.

“Oh,” I squeakedas he knelt in front of me and pressed his face to apex of my thighs. “Spike,”I whispered, sliding my fingers into his hair.

“Tell me this isokay,” he begged.

---