“If I wanted to see a naked woman posing for an hour, I’d just watch porn.”
“Classy.” I snort. “But for those with fewer brain cells than the rest of us—” I glare at her with a sly smile. “It’s an amazing opportunity for artists. The models pose in these positions that help expand our drawing skills. You aren’t looking at a naked person. You’re creating life on paper.”
“And with that, I’m now skipping breakfast.” She stands up and tosses her plate in the sink.
“You are so narrow-minded!” I yell out, gripping my coffee cup with both hands and laughing.
“Perhaps. I’ll leave the creative and open mind to you.”
“Like you even had a choice.”
She walks back with the coffee carafe and refills my cup for me. “I might skip work altogether.” She groans, setting the carafe back down. “I just want to lie in bed and watch Netflix.”
I flash her a cheeky grin, sympathizing with her broken heart. “I’m not sure Netflix pays the bills, babe.” She curls her lip in disapproval. “We could go buy more plates and break them?” I offer, arching a brow.
“Or you could stop breaking my shit and buy me new plates?”
I smile. “Okay, deal.”
The gallery is busier than usual for a lazy Sunday, so I’m booked with tours back to back. I love it when there’s a massive amount of chatter and shoes clicking on the hardwood.
By late afternoon, I’m ready to pass out. Fortunately, it’s time to set up for the class, which takes my mind off being exhausted.
“So we have three of the rooms blocked off for tonight. There need to be at least fifty chairs in each with extra easels,” Ms. Jones explains to Christine and me how we have a few others helping out too since there is a lot to be done. “At the front of the room needs to be a stool sitting on top of a white sheet.”
We nod in understanding and the group breaks away to get started, Christine following me. I’m busy moving chairs around and can’t help but notice the dreamy face Christine has while she’s setting up the area where the model will be. There’s going to be three models tonight and they will each rotate every forty-five minutes from room to room, offering different poses to each group.
“What’s the smile for?” I ask, knowing it must be because of the guy she’s been seeing.
“Oh, nothing,” she says, playing it off. “Just thinking about my date last night.
I mentally high-five myself at being right again and to remind her that she really needs to work on her poker face. “And how is everything going with this new beau of yours?”
She sighs. “It’s great.”
I chuckle. “See, I knew you just needed to get laid. I should be a therapist. If you’re sad—sex. If you’re mad–angry sex. If you’re anxious—shower sex. Everything can be fixed with a little d, but a big D is always better.”
She rolls her eyes, laughing. “We better get this done before Ms. Jones comes in here and has a coronary.”
By six o’clock, everything is set up and ready. People who purchased a ticket begin arriving and setting their things up. I’m super excited, especially when I start seeing a few classmates from Professor Hampton’s class.
“Hey!” I hear Ellie’s sweet, southern voice.
I turn around and she charges at me, engulfing me in a large hug. “Hi!”
“Which room are you going to be in?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Wherever there’s room left over.”
“I’ll save you a spot!” She calls out, which reminds me I need to grab my supplies from the front desk.
“Oh, perfect. Thanks!” She walks away into one of the rooms as more people enter.
“No slacking on the job,” I hear Kendall’s mocking tone behind me.
I turn around and smile wide. “What are you—”
“I came to caffeinate you. Looks like you need it, too,” she says as I cover a yawn.
She hands me a cup of hot deliciousness. “Oh, God. I love you so much right now.”
“I know. As you should.”
After grabbing my bag, she follows me into the room Ellie had walked into. “I’m just going to observe…back here.” Kendall stays in the back by a few of the other workers.
I roll my eyes and sigh. “You’re missing out!” I grin.
Once the seats are filled, Ms. Jones introduces herself and thanks everyone for coming. She explains the details of the night, establishing the rules of no photography or jumping from room to room. I can tell she’s a bit nervous, but excited. This event is great exposure for the gallery and helps get people in the doors with the hopes of them returning again.
She then announces the model will be out shortly and skips off to the next room to do the same.
“You have an extra charcoal pencil?” Ellie leans over and whispers.
“I think so.” I lean over and dig around in my bag when I see Morgan out of the corner of my eye.
Fucking hell.
I’m not sure if he’s noticed me or not, but I try to ignore the urge to stare at him.
“Here you go.” I hand her one of my pencils just as the model walks out. She releases the white robe she was draped in and sets her pose. Her long, brown hair is flat against her back except a small chunk in the front that covers one of her breasts.
I decide against using the easel and set my sketchpad upright on my legs as I begin outlining her features. The room is eerily silent as everyone studies the woman in front of us. She’s standing at an angle, one leg extended and the other straight. Her right arm is placed over her chest and resting on her left shoulder. Her head is angled to the ground, her eyes low and steady.
I drown thoughts of Morgan out and focus on my drawing. The adrenaline rush from drawing a live nude model sets in, and soon, I even forget there’s a room filled with other people.
People start to shift in their seats as the first session comes to an end. The woman smiles as she puts her robe back on and walks back out. We get a fifteen-minute break before the models rotate.
“Well, if that wasn’t inspiration to get back into the gym, I don’t know what is,” Ellie blurts out the moment chairs and people begin to move around the room.
I laugh and reassure her she has nothing to complain about.
“Oh, trust me. Where I’m from, fried chicken and Mama’s famous gumbo are a regular occurrence in the kitchen. Add in her fried gator, homemade apple pies, and banana pudding, there’s no wonder I can’t shed weight.”
I stare at her, lost in everything she just said. “Wait, did you just say fried gator?” I make a face and cringe.
“Oh my God!” she squeals, making me jump. “You’re so going to come visit me this summer in Monroe. We’ll get tattoos and eat all the southern food you can stuff in your mouth. You’ll never want to leave.”
I stare at her, unmoving.
“Why aren’t you blinking?” she asks, narrowing her eyes in on my face.
I swallow and blink a couple times. “How did losing weight turn into me getting a tattoo and eating alligator?”
She laughs, but I’m not kidding at all.
I’m not eating that.
“I’m actually good with burgers and fries. I’m a simple Midwestern girl,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Stop being a baby.” She nudges her shoulder into mine.
“I think I need to get some water,” I tease, standing up and walking out before she can chase me down and make us blood sisters or something.
I’m careful to avoid looking in the direction of where I saw Morgan sitting. I walk to the vending machine and buy a bottle of water before heading back.
Before I step into the room, Ms. Jones comes flailing at me with a look of panic on her face. “Aspen! Oh God.” She manages to blurt out before coming to stop in front of me. She’s panting and her cheeks are flushed.
“What’s wrong? Everything okay?” I twist the cap off my bottle and take a drink.
“No! One of the models is in the bathroom puking her guts out. She says she can’t continue to the next rotation. What am I going to do?”
“Okay, well, um…” I stand there trying to think of a solution. There are only five minutes left before the next session is to begin. “What if we put half of the chairs in the empty room to each of the other rooms where the other two models are?”