The Genius and the Muse (8 page)

“Uh, yeah, Kaitlyn. I mean, Katie—Kate. I got your number from Dee. So… you left some shit at my place. I don’t know if you need it or not.”
There was another long pause in the message.
“So, yeah. Call me if you want. My number’s 555-4537. You can come get your stuff. ‘Cause it’s here.”
Long pause.
“Bye.”
Another pause.
“This is Javi Lugo.”
Click.

Kate frowned. Well, that was… interesting.

Part Five: The Painter

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Los Angeles, California

May 2010

K
ate sat at a small table outside the restaurant in Hollywood, taking shelter from the already sweltering sun under the covered patio. She sipped her iced tea and glanced at the clock on her phone. She was a little early to meet Vanessa Allensworth, but she was passing by the small restaurant when the painter called asking if they could meet for lunch, so Kate had suggested meeting her there.

Within a few minutes, Kate’s eyes caught the tall figure of the artist as she made her way down the street. If you didn’t know who she was, Vanessa Allensworth could have been easily mistaken for a model, though her statuesque figure would never be considered fashionable on a modern runway. Her light brown skin glowed in the California sun. She was a stunning woman, easily five feet-ten inches, her dark curls framed dramatic features that begged to be photographed, and her steps were long and sure.

As she drew nearer, Kate noted that, far from the smudged work clothes that most of her friends wore while painting, Ms. Allensworth wore a flowing red dress that epitomized bohemian chic. A kind smile lit her face when she spotted Kate, and she waved.

“You must be Kate,” she said as she approached the table. “Dee said to look for your gorgeous hair. You look like a pre-Raphaelite model, you’re so fair. Have you ever modeled?”

“No, I don’t think the pre-Raphaelites specialized in freckles, did they?” Kate joked, surprised by the compliment. The tall painter immediately set her at ease with her grace and quiet confidence. She sat down at the small patio table, and Kate watched her carefully arrange the drape of her dress. “Honestly, that’s really flattering, but I prefer to be behind the lens.”

Vanessa’s mouth quirked up into a smile. “Well, that reminds me of someone else I know. Thank you for meeting me here, by the way. I’ve been working all morning, and I lost track of time. I’m starving.”

The waitress came over to get Vanessa’s drink order. The painter ordered a glass of white wine and asked for a few more minutes to look over the menu. Kate took a minute to study the woman across from her.

Vanessa Allensworth had achieved national recognition almost immediately upon graduating by virtue of her very famous parents. Her modern depictions of the feminine form were praised by critics and prized across the country. Her shows were attended by the elite of the art world. She was an Angelino by birth and had chosen to remain in L.A. to work. She came from a family of prominent artists. Her mother was a poet; her father directed films. Kate also knew from talking with Dee that, of all the people who had known Sam Rhodes in school, Vanessa was one of the few she kept in regular contact with.

“Do you know what you’re having?” Vanessa asked.

“Just a salad, I think. I can never eat much when it’s hot.”

“If only that worked for me. I’d have a much better figure during bathing suit season.”

“Are you kidding? You’re beautiful. You shouldn’t change anything.”

“Thank you. I’m being self-deprecating. I’m not really that modest. It is interesting, though. Photographers usually think I’m more beautiful than other people. I’ve always wondered why.”

“We like dramatic features. Did Reed O’Connor ever photograph you?”

The waitress walked up to take their orders, and Kate waited patiently. Vanessa, she noticed, was very specific as she ordered her egg white omelet. It fit with the meticulous impression the painter projected.

“Yes,” Vanessa finally answered after the waitress left. “Reed has photographed me a number of times over the years. He did one I love for my first major show in New York. Though I hated it when I first saw it.” She smiled. “That’s quite common, you know. Many of his subjects don’t like his portraits at first.”

“What is it? The one you liked—what was the picture?”

Vanessa turned her head to the side and looked at Kate out of the corner of her eye. “It was a profile, but only of my nose and forehead. The rest of my face was shadowed. I was absolutely furious with him at first. He knew I’d never liked my nose.”

“Really?” Kate frowned. “I was just thinking at that particular angle I could almost see a crown on your head. Your profile is very—”

“Regal?” Vanessa interrupted with a smile, and Kate nodded. “Yes, that exactly what he said, too. ‘Vanessa,’ he said in that infuriatingly calm voice of his, ‘don’t you see you’re a queen when I photograph you?’” She smiled at the memory. “That was maybe three years after Reed and Sam moved to New York. He was still developing his style, doing commercial fashion work, but all the right people were already taking notice. He was extraordinary. And his focus tended to be…” she paused. “
Softer
than it is now, I think. Still his style. Always his style. His photographs have always been distinctive.”

“It’s one of the reasons his work fascinates me. You can’t mistake his eye for anyone else.” Kate leaned her elbow on the table, studying the woman across from her. Suddenly, she sat up. “Oh, before I forget…” She reached into her messenger bag. “I have a delivery for you. From Javi Lugo. I talked to him yesterday.”

“Javi, huh? You’re catching all the old gang, aren’t you?” Her hand extended as Kate held out the small, cloth-wrapped package. Vanessa took it and placed it on her lap, peeking at it quickly.

Kate had quashed her natural curiosity, refusing to open the small package while it was in her care. She was unable to see what was in the mysterious delivery, though she observed the enigmatic smile that crossed Vanessa’s face before she wrapped it again to place in her purse.

After a few moments, Vanessa spoke again. “Dee said you were doing some research into Reed’s background for your project. I have to tell you, I don’t feel comfortable telling you anything that’s going to be published. He’s quite a private person, and I consider him a friend, so—”

“I’m not going to publish anything about his background.” Kate was quick to reassure her. “It’s more for my own understanding. The content of my thesis hasn’t changed significantly, I just…” Kate trailed off, at a loss to explain her exact reasons for searching out the origins of the mysterious portrait. “Professor Bradley said something a few weeks ago, and I noticed some things about a few of his pictures. I feel like I don’t have as clear an understanding of his work as I once did, I guess.”

Vanessa gave her a measuring look. “What did Chris say to you?”

“He said that to understand Reed O’Connor, I had to understand Samantha Rhodes.” She waited for the other woman to respond. Vanessa took a sip of her wine and set it down thoughtfully. “Was he right?”

Vanessa stared at her for a few moments. “Chris always was a wise old man. A good observer. And a better photographer than anyone ever gave him credit for, I think. I expect he’s a very good teacher, isn’t he?”

“He is. Miss Allensworth—”

“You may call me Vanessa, Kate.” She paused, still looking at the young woman with consideration. “I’ll give you my observations of them both, as much as I’m comfortable with, but let’s wait and talk more back at my studio. It’s more private.”

Kate nodded. “Of course.”

Their waitress came back with their food and Vanessa smiled at her politely. “Perfect timing. Thank you.”

The two women spent the next hour talking about their work. As fascinated as Kate was by Vanessa’s brilliance and experience, Vanessa seemed to be equally enthralled by Kate’s perspective and excitement. In no time, the meal had passed and they began to walk back to Vanessa’s studio in North Hollywood. As they walked, Kate contemplated the seeming serendipity of so many unusually talented artists coming out of the same small art school in the foothills of Southern California. According to Dee, most of them had even lived in the same building.

“Vanessa, doesn’t it seem strange that you and Javier Lugo, and Reed O’Connor and Sam Rhodes all graduated at the same time? You’re all nationally known now—not Rhodes as much, she’s more regionally known—but everyone else…”

“Yes,” Vanessa said. “It’s unusual, I suppose. Javi”…” She chuckled. “Javi would give most of the credit to Reed and Sam, and all that amazing energy they had.”

“Is he right?” Kate asked as the painter pulled the door open to her air-conditioned building. They walked inside, and Vanessa went to put her purse in the small kitchen near the front of the studio.

She paused for a moment as she walked back toward Kate. “Partly. He’s
partly
right. Reed and Sam did create this kind of magnetic hum around them, and they attracted very talented people as friends, but giving them too much credit doesn’t give the rest of us enough, I think. We’re all
very
talented. I’m not being pompous; we just are. And you have to give credit to Lydia, don’t ever forget Lydia,” Vanessa cautioned with a shake of her head.

“Lydia Collins, right? She represents all of you?”

“Yes,” Vanessa nodded. “She’s knew us all in college—well, she and I knew each other growing up—and she’s an extraordinary businesswoman. Her family has been in the business for ages.”

“Maybe I’ll meet her someday.”

“It would be to your benefit if she likes you.” Vanessa continued. “Lydia knows almost everyone in the art world. She’s very well connected, and she works very hard for her artists.”

“So it wasn’t all about the Reed and Sam magic?” Kate asked, smiling as they continued into Vanessa’s work area. There were a number of canvases in all stages of completion, exhibiting the rich colors and bold strokes the artist was known for. Kate moved around the room, taking in the strictly organized space where the painter worked. Though the pervasive smell of turpentine tinged the air, it was, without a doubt, the cleanest studio Kate had ever seen.

“Do you want a bottle of water?” Vanessa asked from across the room.

“No, thank you.” Kate leaned in, examining a strangely familiar abstract that glowed with rich red, gold and purple oils. She squinted at the angles and cocked her head as she examined it. “Hey, Vanessa, is this—”

“Reed and Sam?” she asked from right over Kate’s shoulder. The younger woman jumped a little and turned around to see Vanessa smiling at her and drinking a small green bottle of Perrier.

“Yes. Is it?”

She nodded. “It’s my interpretation of that wonderful sculpture Javi did, which was based on that picture Dee took of them when we were in school.” She grinned. “We’re all thieves, you know. Constantly ripping ideas off from each other. Feeding on each other like parasites.” She laughed, and Kate smiled at her amusement.

Vanessa went to sit down at a small bistro table in the corner of the room. The arched window behind her was lined with clear glass jars holding various-sized paint brushes. The afternoon sun shone through and cast intriguing shadows on the terra-cotta floor.

Kate sat in the other chair. “Did you feel it? The energy that Javi and Dee talked about. Did it affect your work, too?”

“Yes, though not always in a good way. I learned quite early that I didn’t work as well if I had too much going on around me. Everyone’s different. Some people like to have music playing, or the television going in the background. Some people like working with people around them, and others like utter isolation.” She smiled at Kate. “I’m more of an utter isolation person.”

Kate nodded and waited for her to continue.

“I found the energy they put out to be almost too much, most of the time. No, they inspired me, but it wasn’t because of that.”

Kate paused to make sure the painter had finished speaking. “What was it, then?”

Vanessa smiled wistfully, looking across the studio at the painting hanging on the wall. “They just
loved
each other so deeply, Kate. That’s what inspired me, not the manic energy, which was probably a reflection of their amazing sexual chemistry. That was a big part of their relationship, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t their
whole
relationship.”

Kate concentrated on Vanessa as she reminisced.

“If you didn’t know them, it might be all you saw—the sexual energy. But they had an extraordinarily deep love, as well. They took care of each other. They were very protective of their relationship, especially around new people.”

Kate fought back the unexpected sting of grief. “What do you think happened to them? Do you know why they separated?”

The sorrow was evident when Vanessa spoke again. “It’s hard to say. Something shifted with them, after they went to New York. I’m not sure what, and it wasn’t because one of them wanted to go and one didn’t. They were both excited to move after graduation. No, something happened. Something that dimmed what they had.”

“And you have no idea?”

Vanessa shrugged. “I’ve heard bits and pieces of what caused the actual breakup, but I wasn’t there, so I don’t know for sure. I think the only witness was that assistant Reed used for a short time, Brandon Wylie.” The painter sighed. “Really, Kate, only two people ever know what goes on in a relationship. The rest of us can only speculate. And I’m not really a fan of speculation.”

Kate sat, studying the shadows on the floor, lost in her own thoughts.

“I do know that they loved each other, though. Even when there were things going on at the end. They really,
really
loved each other. In fact, knowing both of them now, I don’t think they’ve ever stopped loving each other.”