Page 53 of Sawyer
“Hang on.” He pointed at Doc, blinking rapidly at the mere idea. “Your mother has Google Alerts on you?”
He snorted. “Since their inception. I try not to wonder whether me being repped by Beverly Merriweather would impress her. Mostly, I don’t want anything to do with my mom. So I keep playing my little text game with her.”
An inarticulate sound emerged from his mouth because sometimes he didn’t have the words. “Jesus, man, that’s…nutso. Have you thought about blocking her?”
His pained expression had Dean wishing he hadn’t brought it up. “Yeah, but it’s the nuclear option. I’m hoping to coast. I hate confrontation.”
“We could throw Brooke at her—or Madison,” he said to make his friend laugh. Which he did, thank God.
“Nice one. Let’s drop this subject and speak of happier things. Tell me more about the website.”
Dean was only too happy to change gears. He ran him through the commissions page and then the one with his portfolio. Dean had posted photographs of Nanine’s portrait and the one of the Women of Nanine’s. Doc got all choked up then and almost touched his screen.
“Of course I need photos of your works as you get them but it’s a start,” he told him.
“I love it!” Doc’s eyes were a little wild when he finally looked up. “I can’t wait to see it launch.”
His face seemed to freeze then. “What’s wrong?”
He grimaced. “I just realized my website going public is a huge declaration to the world. My mother will see it. Maybe even my dean and the people I work with. I mean, at some point, I’m going to be resigning… I figure I’ll know when the time is right.”
“Of course you will.” Dean clapped him on the back, knowing it would be a huge step. “How about we launch the site when you’re ready? It’s not like you have a whole bunchof paintings to upload to your portfolio page yet. We go on your schedule, Doc.”
“Thank you, but I’ll take the cards and use them if that’s okay.”
“They’re your cards, Doc.”
He lifted his shoulder as if struggling with heavy feels. “You’re the best friend in the world. Did you know that?”
Because his friend’s spirits needed buoying, he knew exactly what would do the job. “Yes, I do, but I might be remiss in that department. I mean, I’m seriously wondering if you should get an exotic pet like Dali.”
“No way!” Sawyer waved his hands in the air like a crazy person. “I am not having an ocelot or some bird who wants to land in my ’fro. Dean, we covered my unease with pets when we got Pierre.”
God, his friends were so easy sometimes. Did they really think he wanted to visit this house, the headquarters of PRG, and worry about Doc’s exotic tarantula getting loose like that one inHome Alone? No way.
“I don’t know, Doc. You should reconsider. I mean, have you seen those black-and-white photos of Dali with Babou? They’re heart-rending. Memorable?—”
“No freaking way, man,” Sawyer only cried out, waving his hands over his head. “Now, out! I need to paint. I have a gallery show that needs scheduling.”
“I like this bossy side of you, Doc.” He whistled as he headed to the door, glad Sawyer’s earlier mood was back. “Have you and Phoebe broken your pact yet and talked about her hosting your first gallery show?”
Everybody in the house had gone bananas when Sawyer had announced it after Beverly’s visit. Champagne had flowed. Lots of roommate love. Dean’s jam.
“No, and it’s actually fabulous that we can talk about other things. Assures us both that we have the makings of a solid relationship outside of a business partnership. But she’shappy. I can feel it. She’s all lit up inside when we’re together.”
Ah, that was probably from being with Doc as much as being able to present his work to the art world. But he didn’t need to point out anything cheesy. “Glad to hear it. Now, when you have a moment, you make sure to write up that bio for me. Oh, and we need photos of your new works when you have the chance.”
“I’ll get them to you.”
Doc was already picking up his brush and palette. He’d been dismissed, and damn, if it didn’t feel good to see his friend so absorbed. “Also… Don’t worry. I’ll keep looking for that perfect pet. Like I was telling Kyle, a sloth is really low maintenance?—”
“Dean, I have to meet Phoebe in a few hours for our date, and I have a lot to do.”
“Her role as a muse is clearly working.” God, was he going to go there? Yeah. Totally. “Have you talked about painting a nude yet?”
Doc’s whole face turned red. “Out! Now!”
Dean let his grin fly as he shut the door. All of his roommates were finding their wings.
