Sophia Pt. 03

"Don, I don't like to mention it often, but I'm bloody rich. I frequently spend more on clothes in one week than I did on this floor. You would go into shock at the prices I pay for just some of the purses I have. The other night when I came down here and saw the shape your old floor was in, I thought screw it, why mess around? I called Carl, he told me what to buy and he arranged for all the work. It wasn't that expensive and now we have something decent to practice on, okay?"

If Carl had bossed this job, Maria probably hadn't been screwed too badly and she was right, she was very rich. Time, and especially quality time, was more important to her than money. She enjoys spending time with my girls and she wants to undork me, but she also wants something decent to dance on. Yeah, I could live with it. It makes sense when you consider all the facts. She wasn't so much doing it for me, but for improving her quality time. So in a sense she spent, however much it cost, on herself. As for doing it without my permission, that was payback for the tree episode.

I gave her a look. "Are we even now?"

"Yes, now we're even, Don."

"Let's shake on it." I spit in my hand and held it out to her.

"Do people really do that, yucchh?" She shuddered and stepped back. I grinned, got her again. I stepped into the basement bathroom to wash my hand. When I came back, I swear I was only gone a couple of minutes, she was holding that damn chicken again. She gave me an evil look under lowered eyebrows.

With the chicken standing guard we danced for about an hour and a half. When we were done they tried talking me into watching another movie, but I was too tired, so I went to bed and they took the DVD to Maria's room. The next morning, we did the normal routine. Maria did, however, give me a strange look when I mentioned my practice date with Freddie tonight.

That evening I arrived home to find Freddie already waiting, and she had a small grocery bag in her hands.

"Hey, Don, what's happening?"

"Same old, same old, Freddie. What's in the bag?"

"Your cooking is good Don, but it's not hot enough. This is just something I can put on the lettuce to spice things up a bit."

I shuddered at the thought of what those spices could do to me and Freddie just grinned.

I gave her the now standard tour of the house, she was anxious to see Mar…the guest room and she insisted on seeing my workshop. She was suitably impressed; Kevin was down there and she chatted with him for a few minutes before we went back upstairs for dinner.

I fried up the shrimp, squid, garlic and onions while Freddie chopped up some jalapenos peppers and prepared her sauce for the lettuce. Everything was ready to go in half an hour; and we sat down to eat.

"Freddie, all the stuff that you do at your studio absolutely amazes me. You paint landscapes and seascapes, and you also do tattooing and custom body painting. What happened, what led to all this?"

"Well, when I was in high school, besides my skiing I was already painting and I thought I was going to make a career out of it. Then that damn modeling scout saw me at a ski lodge. I started modeling to advertise ski clothes and equipment, which led to other things. I was led away from my dream by money. Towards the end of my modeling career I met my ex-husband Kevin, my god was that a big mistake. I had over two hundred thousand dollars in savings and I had worked my ass off for it. My lawyer, and it was a woman too, swore that the pre-nup I signed would protect both of us. I was only married to the asshole for two years and at the end I had nothing. He cheated on me and walked away laughing with all the money. His lawyer's argument was that during the two years I had spent all my money. Like hell! I am not an expensive girl! Kevin was into real estate and he had used my money to make more money and he took it all. That damn idiot I had for a lawyer just shrugged her shoulders and walked away from me as fast as she could. She never returned any of my phone calls after that and even ended up moving out of town a ways to another office. Thinking about that asshole I married makes me so mad!"

"I'm sorry about bringing up a bad memory Freddie, I definitely can relate." She reached across the table to grab my hand.

"I know you can, that is why I can talk to you. But one of these days, I'm going to look Kevin up again, and ….."

"When you do, if you want back up, I'll be there. We've got a whole ocean that we can use to dispose of the body." I grinned at her, to show I meant it as a joke. She grinned back, but it was more like a shark's grin.

"I was almost flat broke; I only had my car and about a thousand bucks. The only money making skill I had was modeling and my looks weren't up to snuff any longer. Maybe I should have gone home to my parents, but I felt like such a failure, and they had warned me about Kevin, too, so I just couldn't. It was summer with no possibility of a job as a ski instructor, and most of the time it doesn't pay very much anyway. The only thing I could think of was stripping; my looks were good enough for that. Well, Maria had been out of the country, and I don't know who told her that I was in trouble but she came rushing back to my rescue. She put me up and let me cry on her shoulder. Then she sat down with me to brainstorm a new career. What I really wanted to do was be a painter, but I didn't have enough faith in my talent to commit to it. Over the years I had been doing a lot of fooling around body painting my friends and even doing a few small tattoos the old fashion way. I do enjoy working on a person; it is like a living canvas that never gets put away in a musty old attic."

"I had been hearing for a few years that talented tattoo artists can make a decent living at it. I had enough faith in my talent for that, not that it is easy. Maria helped me put together a portfolio and I started visiting tattoo artists on the west coast. My apprenticeship only took me about two years, which is pretty fast, and I learned a lot from the lady I apprenticed with. So I came back to Seattle in order to set up my own shop. During that entire time Maria funded me completely and I'm still trying to pay her back, but she won't take a dime from me; she says she has enough money and that it was a birthday present."

"Well, I opened up a studio and I had made enough of a name for myself and had enough friends that I didn't have too much trouble becoming financially successful. It also helped that I've got a mad scientist for a sister. She developed some unique paints for body painting. Some people don't know if they want a real tattoo, and others flat out don't want a real tattoo. I've got some paints that my sister made for me that are absolutely beautiful; they are tough and long lasting. With the proper cleaning agents they can easily be removed, too. I don't know if they are FDA approved, but my sister swears that they are safe and so far I haven't been busted. I've had enough success that I've been able to get back to my first love as a painter."

"Don, I enjoy talking with you, but let's eat and I'll tell you the rest at the museum."

We ate dinner and the fumes from the hot sauce Freddie made caused my eyes to water and burned the hair in my nostrils. When we were done with dessert Freddie did insist on taking the remaining PIE home with her. Going out to the car, as I pulled my keys out of my pocket, Freddie piped up, "Don, Vanessa said that you don't like to drive; let's take my car."

"Freddie, I don't really mind driving, and your van looks like it could die at any minute." On top of that I was afraid of her driving, she was infamous with her three other friends for her race-car-like driving.

"I said car, not van, let's take my new car." I'm always a sucker to ride in a new car.

"What new car?"

She pointed at a stylish new BMW station wagon.

"I had to get something big enough to safely carry my art work, and I wanted something with some decent power and handling; this is what I found."

"Freddie, have you ever had an accident? Your friends have told some really scary stories about your driving."

"Don, I've never had an accident, I swear." She held up her right hand like she was testifying in court.

With that, I got in the car, she got in and five minutes later I had my eyes squeezed as tightly shut as I could get them. I wanted to see my babies one more time before I died! In a lot less time than it should have taken, we were at the museum. I slowly pried my fingers off the armrests and turned to Freddie. She had a big grin plastered on her face and I just knew she was going to say something disparaging, questioning my courage. I put a warning finger up as her mouth opened.

"Careful, or you will never get THE PIE again."

She snapped her mouth shut like it was a steel trap. We got out of the car and walked into the museum, presenting our tickets.

As we looked at the various pieces of American art on display Freddie resumed her story. "Well, I started taking more art classes almost as soon as I got back to Seattle, but I didn't start trying to sell anything until two years ago. I had some modest success, and about a year later a local gallery held a show of my art work with that of two other local artists. The owner, Madeline, was really enthusiastic about our paintings and we all thought we were going to move up from 'struggling artist' to 'we can pay our bills artist'. I already could pay my bills because of my tattoo business, but Ben and Alice, who became my friends, could really use the boost in their finances. Everything was going fine until a local art critic arrived by the name of Thomas Harris. He's originally from England. He has both local and national columns in newspapers and magazines. On top of that, he acts as an advisor to companies and individuals for art purchases."

The name Thomas Harris rang a bell with me. I never have liked anyone with the name Tom. I must have bad luck because all the people that I have met with that name have been twisted, worthless assholes, which should be shot on sight. My ex-boss had been named Tom, too! When I got back home I would have to do a search on Mister Thomas Harris on the internet as well as in my own files. There was a Tommy Harris mentioned in my detective's report concerning Barbara's adultery. If it turns out that he is the same dude, then I already know he is a dishonorable asshole and I'd better keep a close eye on the clown to make sure that he is not harming Freddie in anyway.

"Well, he came breezing into the gallery and Madeline said 'Oh, Shit!'" She had thought he was out of the country; he frequently goes to the Far East. (That connection to the Far East immediately raised some things in my memory that unsettled me even more.) He started chatting amongst the people viewing our work, voicing his opinion and suddenly they all started leaving. We didn't sell a single painting that night. I was sure that before Harris showed up we would have gotten at least a dozen buys from the way the crowd was behaving. What was going to be a successful night for us, he flushed down the drain in forty minutes of chit-chat. Maybe my stuff wasn't so good, but Ben's and Alice's work was great. I would buy their paintings if my walls weren't full of my own stuff."

"So over the next month or so, the three of us got offers for our paintings, but only for depressingly low amounts of money. Ben and Alice had to sell, they needed the money. I sold because all my paintings were filling up my store room and I couldn't give anymore to Maria and Vanessa. Kathy lives in a tiny apartment and doesn't really have the space."

I had seen Freddie's artwork at both Maria's condo and Freddie's studio. I thought it was great and should be valued in the thousands of dollars. I actually planned on buying some of it, once I was completely done with website plans I had for her. It was going to be a surprise, but I was working on Chinese, Japanese, Korean, and Russian versions of her website already, and I planned on adding other languages in the future. My strategy was to purchase some of her artwork through the website as that way she wouldn't try to give me a discount. Her paintings were wonderful and I wanted her to be fully rewarded for them.

I was working with a man, Sato-san, in Japan, for the Japanese, Korean and Chinese websites. The guy was a hard worker and cheap, and had really impressed me with the emails that I had exchanged with him. He was not only translating the text but working on changes in the appearance of the website to appeal to the different cultures. He was even investigating how galleries in Japan presented paintings in order to better design an appealing way to display Freddie's artwork.

A couple days ago he had sent me a troubling email about Freddie's work, and he informed me that he was going to investigate some more and get back to me. In the email he mentioned seeing several works from America in one particular gallery. Three of the paintings were Freddie's, and the gallery was asking two and a half million yen for the cheapest one; that is about twenty-five grand US! That is over ten times what Freddie's paintings sell for here. Personally, I feel that the higher price being asked in Japan is a far more accurate reflection of the value of Freddie's artwork than the local price. Sato-san had recognized them because I had included pictures of her old, but sold paintings besides the available for sale art works in Freddie's English website. He had also verified that they were Freddie's by looking at the artist's signature.

If he emails me back with any more suspicious information I'm going to have him find me a private detective in Tokyo that I can hire to investigate further. Then I would find a detective to investigate things on this side of the Pacific. The thing that really gave me a start during Freddie's description of past events was the name of the place that Sato-san saw Freddie's paintings. It was called the Harris Art Gallery. I wasn't going to tell Freddie yet, because I didn't want to upset her, BUT NOBODY FUCKS WITH MY FRIENDS!

"Madeline was really angry with Harris and told him to never enter her gallery again! On April 11^th the four of us are going to risk it again; Madeline is doing another showing of our artwork. She has specifically invited new people and made it a point to compliment our paintings in conversations with the people at our last show - at least those she thought had open minds."

"Freddie, can I come to your showing?"

"Certainly, Don, I'll make sure you get an invitation."

We spent a nice quiet evening looking at the art, though I had a hard time keeping my cool after realizing my "Harris" concerns, and then Freddie 'Speed Demon' Hanson drove me home. I'm too young to have gray hair.

Same old routine at Maria's mountain home during the weekend (exercise, skiing, dancing and pigging out) except for a sweet thing that Megan did; she came up alone to my room late Saturday night while everyone else was watching movies and said she wanted to talk.

"Dad, pay attention to me, I've got something serious I want to talk to you about."

"Honey, when you want to talk about something, serious or not, I always pay attention to you."

"Dad, I've been watching how Maria and Vanessa behave around you, and I think that they kind of like you. Robin and I like them both and we really like Maria. Maybe you should ask her out or something. None of this PDA stupidity; just ask her out for a real date."

"Pumpkin, I shouldn't say this to you, but since you're being serious I will be, too. I would really like it if Maria or one of her friends liked me in that special way that I think you're referring to, but it's just not in the cards, and it has become painfully obvious to me ever since this PDA business came up."

"Daddy, I think you're wrong. I'd be willing to bet everything that I have that Maria really likes you. Why don't you just give it a chance?"

"Baby, Maria and her friends are wonderful, intelligent and beautiful women. And any guy would be lucky to have them as his girlfriend or even his wife. But, I'm not the lucky. They're not giving me undorking lessons because they're romantically interested in me. They're giving me lessons because they are my good friends and they told me that they want me to find some other girl to date. The key words here being 'some other', they are not interested in me for themselves. Do you understand, now? I am also worried that if I do, let's say, pursue Maria and she gets upset with my actions, then we all might lose the closeness with her that we have all been enjoying and I'm not going to risk that. Especially since I don't think she has any interest in me as a boyfriend. I really appreciate you coming up here to talk to me about this, but I find it a bit upsetting and if you don't mind I really don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Okay, Daddy, I won't bother you anymore about it, but I still think you're making a big mistake. I love you, Daddy, and so does Robin, so you will always have us. Goodnight, Daddy." She gave me a big hug and kiss, and then turned to leave my room.

"Goodnight, Princess, enjoy your movie night, I love you too."

The Monday after we got back from the mountains, I asked Maria if she had any extra time that morning as I had already arranged to take the entire morning off. I needed a new suit and wanted her advice. She seemed happy to help.

After dropping off my girls, Maria drove me to a store that she knew about.

"Maria, I need to look like a million bucks, and I'm willing to spend the money, too."

"Don't worry, Don, I know where to take you." She drove me to a Brooks Brothers store, heck I could have done that. I thought she knew about some secret English or Chinese tailor shop that was hidden away down a back alley.

I ended up getting two suits, one navy and one gray for about fifteen hundred dollars. Maria was very helpful but during the fitting process she acted almost a tad too familiar. The suits would be ready in about a week; I just needed them before Freddie's art gallery showing on the11^th.

I thanked Maria for all her help when she dropped me off back at my apartment, and for some reason she seemed to be extraordinarily cheerful all the rest of that morning.

………………………………………

I'm getting physically closer to Don, but there seems to be an emotional wall there now that I didn't sense before; I think it has something to do with his ex-wife. When I casually brush up against him or when we're dancing, he will flush a bit and get short of breath so I know that I'm getting through to him, at least a little, but he sometimes acts as if he's in prison.

At least the date he had with Freddie was perfectly innocent except that, according to what Freddie told me this weekend, she had him completely terrified with her driving, the poor baby.

Now he has another date with Vanessa coming up! Shit!

Monday morning Don asked me to take him shopping for a suit. That's what he should be doing, asking my opinion about clothes. I had fun during the fitting, touching him here and THERE, asking if it was too tight or too loose. His butt is so firm; I'm starting to dream about it every night. Even better, he bought exactly what I told him to buy, too.

Next week on Saturday we are all getting together for Freddie's showing.

…………………………………..…

Thursday evening Vanessa and I met for our practice date; the only difference from the previous 'date' was that this time I grilled rib eye steaks for dinner.