“A while,” Vin said, as he shuffled his ageing body into the room, his wooden cane by his side. I tensed as he came closer. I hated anyone seeing my work at any point, but especially when it was in progress. I couldn’t take the judgment.

Vin walked to the sculpture with drawn eyebrows and slowly circled it. I ignored him and walked to pick up my pack of smokes. I lit one and took a long drag.

Vin shuffled over to me, I could see him looking about the sparse studio. His eyes targeted the large double bed in the far corner.

“You’ve been staying here a lot?” he asked.

“I work late.”

Vin nodded, but I could see the concern in his eyes. I blew out a long cloud of smoke.

I didn’t get why anyone fucking cared.

“I know you work late, Elpi. It’s nearing one in the morning.”

I ran my hand down my face. Shit, I’d been here all damn day.

I slowly turned my head to look at Vin. “Nearly one a.m.?”

“Yes, it’s twelve forty-five,” he replied in confusion. “I’ve been out at dinner with friends and thought I’d drop by. I just knew you’d be awake. I have to go back to New York in the morning, so wanted to say a quick goodbye. My work will keep me away until nearer the opening of your show.”

Stubbing out my smoke, I reached for my black shirt which was pitted in marble dust and clay and slid on my black boots. “Okay. Bye.”

“Where are you going in such a rush?” Vin asked as I reached for my wallet and keys for the El Camino.

“The gallery.”

“Ah. You’re still going every night,” Vin mused, and I stopped dead.

“You know I’ve been going?”

He nodded. “I signed you up as a night visitor before you even arrived. I knew you couldn’t resist. It’s a good thing. It tells me you’re not as indifferent to this exhibition as you try to make out.”

I kept my silence, feeling like a fucking douche. Yeah, I gave a shit.

“And you’re going now to check on its progress?”

I stared at Vin and knew the old bastard wouldn’t stop pushing me until I spoke. “I’m gonna go give titles to my pieces.”

Vin’s mouth spread in the biggest fucking smile ever. “Elpi! I’m so glad. The titles will give them life!” Then he frowned. “But why now? You’ve refused for so long.”

My stomach rolled as Aliyana’s face came to my mind. Looking down, I scratched at my beard. “The curator caught me there last night and asked me to name them. I agreed. She was… persistent,” I trailed off; for some reason I felt lighter when I pictured her eager face.

Glancing at the unfinished sculpture set in plaster in the middle of the studio, I already knew what I’d name that one…

“You’ve met Aliyana?” Vin’s question pulled me back to the here and now.

“Last night.”

Something close to humor flashed in Vin’s eyes and he fought a smile. That knowing look just pissed me the fuck off.

“What?” I asked sharply.

Vin held up his hands. “Nothing.”

I glared at him, then took another smoke and slipped it between my lips. I pushed past Vin. “I’m out.”

As I left the studio, I swore I heard Vin laughing.

Opening door to the dark, wet night, I ducked my head as I ran out into the rain and jumped into my black 1969 El Camino. I breathed deep as the rain thundered off my muscle car’s roof. The smoke from my cigarette filled up the newly upholstered cabin.

Looking in the rearview mirror, I pulled out the band that kept my long hair tied back and let my damp hair down. Marble dust covered every inch of me. I shook my head asking myself why I even gave a shit how I looked.

Of course I knew why I gave a shit. The reason was about five feet six, had a fucking body to die for, long dark-brown hair that fell to the middle of her back, and the biggest Spanish eyes I’d ever seen. Yeah, that’s why I gave a shit. A hot woman that got my work.

Leaving my smoke dangling from my bottom lip, I stared at my reflection. Go get this done, Axe. Leave the chick alone. Name the sculptures. Tell her enough background info to shut her up about the text boards. Then leave and never go back.

*****

Entering the back staff entrance, I flicked my chin to the night security guard who was always at his desk. The guy ducked his head behind the desk to break any eye contact. He was terrified of me. Didn’t surprise me; most people were. All except Vin, and maybe Aliyana. Vin because he wasn’t exactly sane, and Aliyana? Fuck knows why.

Noticing the black curtains were shut, I then heard some Spanish-sounding pop music playing from inside.

Taking a deep breath and wishing to God I’d had another smoke to calm me down, I opened the curtain and stepped into the gallery. It looked so different from last night. All the wooden crates and packaging from the sculptures were gone. Only my sculptures and the rigs to position them remained. Handwritten notes were scattered on the floor around each piece.

Hearing off-key singing from the back of the room, I followed the fucking brutal sound. As I rounded the corner, Aliyana Lucia was there dressed in an oversized white shirt, tight black leggings, pink Doc Martens, with her dark hair tied in a messy knot on top of her head.

I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

But the outfit and her looks weren’t what had me entranced. She was holding a paintbrush in her hand, painting what looked like tester pots of tones of white onto the back wall, while shaking her hips, badly singing, “Amor Prohibido murmuran por las calles. Porque somos de distintas sociedades…” in perfect Spanish. She was having fun, letting loose…