Ted and Victoria exchanged a laugh while Ted counted the money out of his wallet and laid it on the table.
"Go ahead and sign it, Samantha” Christos encouraged.
“What? How?”
“You know how to sign your name, don’t you? Pick a color and sign the thing on the front or the back.”
“Oh, on the front, please,” Ted said. “We want people who come to our house to know who the artist is.”
I selected a gold crayon from the box. It seemed appropriate for the occasion. I signed my name on the front corner. When I was finished, I handed my crayon drawing to Ted. “I’ve never sold a painting before,” I squeaked.
He read my signature. “Now we can tell people that we have Samantha Smith’s first sold work in our collection.” He turned to his wife. “This oughta be worth something in a few years.” He handed me the money.
“Thank you so much!” I said to Ted, then reached over the table and hugged Christos. “I sold my first painting!”
Ted and Victoria chuckled.
“Here’s my business card,” Ted said, pulling one from his wallet. “Be sure to let us know if you have any work in the Contemporary Artists show you guys were talking about.”
“Ted, we should go get this framed,” Victoria beamed. “Thank you guys so much. Good luck!”
When they were gone I gaped at Christos. “Did you like, plan that or something?”
He laughed. “No. But I did help set the intention for you.”
“I really can’t believe that just happened!” I said, still gaping.
“I’ve seen crazier shit a hundred times in my own life. This is just the beginning, Samantha. I promise, agápi mou.”
I wrapped my arms around him gave him a huge smooch. “I love you so much, Christos!”
SAMANTHA
When Christos and I left the boardwalk café we both were getting hungry for dinner. We walked past the strip mall where Thai Doughnut was located. They were still open.
“Hey,” I joked, “want an Apple Fritter for dinner?”
“Tempting,” Christos said thoughtfully. “Maybe dessert?”
“Okay, let’s get regular Thai food.”
Back at my apartment, we hopped in my VW and drove to Bangkok Bay as the sun went down. Christos ordered Roasted Duck Curry and a side of Drunken Noodles.
“How much do you eat a day, really?” I asked.
“Same as a regular horse,” he joked.
I ordered yellow curry, and we drove back to my apartment. We ate sitting on the floor with our backs against my couch, our food on the coffee table.
“Congrats on selling that crayon painting today,” Christos said before forking noodles into his mouth.
“Are you sure that wasn’t a setup? That woman Victoria said she remembered meeting you.”
“That was ten years ago. Probably my grandfather’s last gallery show. There were tons of people there. If I met them, I don’t remember.”
“Are you sure sure?” I prodded.
“Accept it, Samantha. Someone bought your artwork today.”
“I know!” I shook my hands in a seated happy dance. “I made a hundred fifty bucks!”
“Now you’re on your way. I think this deserves a celebration. Maybe even a pageant,” he winked.
“Uhhhh….” I squirted a gush of Sriracha hot sauce on my yellow curry.
“Whoa! You got enough hot sauce?” Christos laughed.
“Whoops! Guess I like it hot,” I protested.
“Me too,” Christos winked.
Gulp. I took a bite of my curry. “Woo, hot!”
I was reminded again of the intense oral sexcapades I’d shared with Christos right on this floor, beside this couch and table, less than two months prior. We had been eating Thai food then, too.
As I chewed my curry, the spicy Sriracha sauce must have kicked in because my whole body was hot-flashing. That was the only rational explanation. I was also sure that my equally sudden horniness had nothing to do with the fact that the hottest man on the planet was grinning at me with his sexy dimples from less than a foot away.
“Are you sweating?” he asked.
“No!” I said, fanning my face. I gulped a swallow of water from my glass.
Christos grinned. “You look all hot and bothered to me.”
“It’s the hot sauce!” I choked, pointing at my mouth. “Totally spicy!”
“It’s not that bad, is it?”
I nodded.
“Let me see…” He leaned toward me and slid his tongue across my lips. “You’re right. It is pretty hot. But I don’t think it’s the Sriracha.” He sat back down. “I can think of a few good ways to cool off,” he murmured.
“Ice cream!” I jumped up and went to my freezer. I still had several pints of that sweet salve remaining. I grabbed three and carried them back to the coffee table. “This should keep us busy for awhile. Oh! Forgot spoons.” I jumped up and got two spoons from the kitchen. “Dig in!” I said, handing one to Christos.
“I haven’t even finished my duck.”
“Better hurry up, before I eat all the ice cream.” I popped the lid on Double Mint Chocolate Chip and shoveled out a bite.
“You okay, Samantha?” Christos asked shrewdly.
“Mime fine,” I mumbled over a mouthful of ice cream.
“You sure, agápi mou?”
I gazed into his amazingly soulful blue eyes. I felt his intense yet endlessly comforting love wrap itself around my heart. I was instantly calm. What was I doing? Running away again? From what? From Christos? Was I crazy? Yes. But for once, I finally felt like I had a choice not to be. I set my spoon down and took a deep breath.
“Christos, ever since we got back from D.C.,” I said, “I can’t stop thinking about how lucky I am to have you in my life. You’re the most amazing guy I’ve ever met, but I keep thinking I’m going to wake up back in high school in D.C., with everyone calling me Whore and Suicide Watch and laughing in my face in the hallways.”
“I’m not a dream, agápi mou. I’m real.” He leaned into me and pinched my forearm gently. “You’re awake.”
“For the first time ever.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I sighed, “maybe this is the first time I’ve ever been awake in my whole life. Like I’d been walking through a haze until I met you. I sold a fricking painting today!” I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him. “Thank you, Christos. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, agápi mou.” He kissed me again, passionately. Our lips slipped across each other’s mouths as mutual desire kindled between us.
“I want you, Christos,” I said, feeling suddenly bold, “Now.”
He pulled back. “Are you sure?” he asked, his face serious. “Have you thought this through?”
“No.”
“Then maybe we should wait. Until the time is right.”
I sighed and considered for a moment. “That’s what I did with lame Damian. I waited and waited, and everything turned out terrible.”
“I’m not Lamian,” Christos smirked.
“Did you say Lame-ian?”
“I did,” he grinned. “Samantha, I can wait as long as you want. I’m not going to rush you or throw a tantrum because you’re not ready.”
I collapsed into him. “I’m soooo ready.”
Christos slowly stood up, leaving me on the carpet.
“Where are you going?” My heart clamped up.
“To put the ice cream away. So it doesn’t melt.” He picked up all three pints and carried them into the kitchen.
Silly me.
When he returned, he said, “Are you ready to host your pageant?”