TUESDAY TALES - BOIL

 

Welcome! We have a less controversial episode from "The Painting" today. I hope this story doesn't offend you. It's a complex story and much will be revealed later on. I may discontinue this story within a week or two because it does push the envelope regarding prejudice. 

When you finish this piece, hop on over and read the stories by the great Tuesday Tales authors. Find them HERE. 

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She arrived at the dog run with five minutes to spare. She didn’t see him, so she took a seat on a bench near the gate. 

“You’re early,” a masculine voice broke into her thoughts. She turned to see Reid Carpenter Clark.

“Where’s the painting?” She tilted her chin up to make eye contact.

“I told you I thought we ought to share it. Since I brought it home in first class, I thought I should get the first turn.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“Not really. It cost me extra to bring it home without a scratch. I thought a month would do.”

“What?”

“I’ll keep it a month, then you can have it for a month.”

“This is crazy.”

He pulled out his wallet then sat his tall frame down next to her. He counted out ten one-hundred dollar bills. “Here you go. Your bounty.”  

She pushed his hand away. “I don’t want the money. I want the painting. I saw it first. I bought it first.”

“Perhaps. But I have it now. Technically, I could force you to take me to court. I’m sure a judge would think a profit of eight hundred dollars on what some would consider a mediocre piece of art should make you happy.”

“It’s not about the money. I’ll give you your hundred bucks back.”

“I don’t want the money.”

“Neither do I,” she said.

“Really?” He turned away from her.

“You think because I’m Jewish I’d take the money? Is that it?”

“The thought did cross my mind.”

“Why you dirty son-of-a-bitch!” She shoved his shoulder. He almost fell off the bench. “You antisemitic piece of crap!” Her blood boiled. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled and moved away.

“That’s all you can say? I want that painting. It’s mine.”

He stood in silence.  

“I’ll keep it for a month. Then you can have it for a month.”

“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”

“I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you reproduce it?” he asked. “That way we can both have it.”

“What?”

“You’re an artist, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

“Looked you up on Google.”

“So?” She shifted on the bench, moving over to let him sit down again.

“Sorry about the comment. My upbringing,” he said, easing down next to her.

“Yeah, well that's an excuse when you’re nine-years-old. But not at this age.?”

“I’ll give you the painting if you produce a copy for me.”

“You want me to copy the painting?”

“Do whatever you artists call it.” He crossed his legs.

“But I get paid for painting.”

“Pay you?”

“You want me to put aside paying business to reproduce that painting.”

“Okay, then how about the thousand dollars?”

“How about three?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Three thousand dollars for a painting that cost two hundred originally?”

“Yep. That’s my price.”

“Shylock,” he muttered, reaching into his back pocket.

She slapped him across the face. Reid bolted from the bench.

“Don’t you ever call me that again. I get paid a lot of money for my artwork.”

He rubbed his jaw. “That’s assault.”

“Yeah? Call the cops. I’ll tell them you stole my painting.”

 “Good luck with that.” He continued to rub his jaw.

“I didn’t hit you that hard.”

He approached the bench slowly. “So do we have a deal?”

That's all for today. Thanks for stopping by.