Intaglio: Dragons All The Way Down (19 page)

“I prefer to
think of myself as a revolutionary,” Cole said.

Ava raised an
eyebrow.

“Uh-huh...”  She
grinned, leaning forward to give him a better view down her shirt.  Cole
reached out, trying to grab her hand, but she pulled it back out of reach.

“Yeah,” Cole
said, lifting his chin, “trying to change the system from within.”

Ava paused,
imagining the changes Cole could make if he actually became a curator.  It was
a very political move in the art community, but Cole was already an artist, and
that was a good start.  He really could make a difference.

“Honestly? 
That’s pretty cool.”

His smiled grew
hungry.  He dropped his voice to a purr.

“I could get you
a show,” he said, eyes moving up and down, “for a price.”

Ava harrumphed,
standing back up again, the distance returning.

“Yup,” she said
dryly.  “I see where this is going.”

Cole laughed and
Ava turned back to the zinc plate. She leaned into the motion and began
blacking the surface once more.  For another twenty minutes, they worked in
silence only broken by the dull grind of the rocker and Cole’s pen.  Shifting
the plate sideways, Ava hissed.  Her arm pulsed with fatigue once more.

“C’mere,” Cole
said, smiling patiently.  “Give that thing to me... You can owe me one later.”

Ava eyed him
with uncertainty.

“You serious? I
could really use the help here.”  She worried the inside of her lip, undecided.

Cole tapped the
edge of the table with his pen.

“Let’s pretend
that this is Warhol’s Factory and I’m the cheap labour.”

A smile tugged
up at her mouth.

“Which makes
me…?”

“Oh, you’re the
brains behind the whole thing.”  He put out his hand.  “C’mon.  Give it over. 
This is a limited time offer, y’know.”

She giggled,
sliding the plate across the table, checking him out.

“Well, you do
have the arms for it.” 

Cole coughed.

“Thanks.”

She leaned
forward and passed him the mezzotint rocker.

“This sounds
like a pretty good deal for me.”

“Yeah, well,
you’re Warhol,” Cole said, winking. 

“And you’re the
eye candy,” she teased.  “I’m imagining you as Edie Sedgwick.”

Cole laughed,
reaching out to snag her wrist, tugging her toward him.  Ava squealed as her
hips hit the edge of the table and she slid forward.

“A socialite!”
Cole scoffed.  “I’m hurt!” 

Ava roared with
laughter as he grabbed her other arm, pulling her closer.  Halfway across, she
knocked his bag to the floor, pens and art history books scattering.  Her
cackle echoed through the room.

“At least let me
be Basquiat,” Cole argued.  “Badass rule-breaker.  Counter-cultural free
thinker!”

Suddenly she was
in his arms, her body half-sitting, half-laying on the tabletop.  Cole’s mouth
dropped to Ava's grin.  They were stretched out across the tall printing table,
his hand on the back of her neck.  His tongue moved over the crease of her
lips, teasing, then invading her mouth, tasting her.  The edge of the table dug
into Ava’s hips, but she didn’t care; her entire focus was on the play of his
mouth on hers. 

After a long
moment, Cole pulled back and Ava ducked out of his grasp, demurely picking up
her Art History book as she slid back down.

“I’ve thought
about it and I get to be Basquiat too,” she said archly.  “I’m the graffiti
artist after all.  Not you.”

With an
exaggerated sigh, Cole dropped the mezzotint rocker, then stood up and walked
around the table.  Ava squeaked as he picked her up, setting her on the edge.

“What ARE you
doing?!” she shrieked.

Ava was giggling
so hard she could hardly breathe as Cole positioned himself between her knees.
His hands tugged at the bottom of her shirt, mouth sucking and nipping his way
to her collarbone. 

“Stop. STOP!”
Ava laughed. 

His hands slid
under her shirt, reaching her breasts.

“Not a chance,”
Cole growled in her ear.  “If you’re claiming you’re the badass rule-breaker,
then I want some fucking proof.”

Ava shivered at
the sound, dropping her fingers to the buttons of his jeans.

“You’ve got it.”

: : : : : : : :
: :

By Saturday, the
Spring weather had warmed. Nina and Frank drove into the city to see the show,
and the four of them met at the university gallery.  Ava’s oil painting was the
first they looked at as they walked through the Student Show and she was
gratified to hear both of Cole’s parents compliment it.  Frank had grumbled his
way past the most controversial pieces, confused as anything by Suzanne’s
container sculptures. 

Ava almost burst
into laughter as he commented on her contribution.

“Now this is my
kind of artwork.”

Next to him,
Nina nodded appreciatively.

“And some other
time, dear,” she said, catching Ava's eyes, “we’d like to see the rest of your
artwork, too.”

Ava beamed,
feeling a warm wave of acceptance.  She really liked the Thomases.

They continued
toward the alcove housing Cole’s sculpture.    Ava was nervous of her own
reaction to the piece, but standing with Cole and his family, her anxiety wore
away, and she found herself enjoying the moment.  Her dream of the storm and
winged death seemed far away when they were all together.  Now she was almost
able to appreciate the skill it took for Cole to create this.  Almost... 

The limbs were
smooth planes, Modernist in approach.  Cole had carved exaggerated angles which
hinted at musculature rather than perfectly mimicking it.  It wasn’t something
she’d put in her living room, but she recognized the beauty inherent in the
piece.

“This is just
lovely,” Nina said.  “You’ve really come a long way.”

 “Thanks.”

He shifted
uncomfortably under his stepmother’s praise.

“Cole’s quite a
perfectionist when it came to getting things right,” Ava added with a smile. 
“I had to pose for this thing for almost a week straight.”

Cole smirked.

“Yeah, well, I
made that up to you.  I think I posed longer, actually.”

Nina looked at
them in surprise. 

“Oh, did you
paint Cole? I'd love to see it sometime,” she said with a wide grin.

Embarrassment
painted Ava scarlet from chest to cheeks.

“Uh, yeah...
sometime.”

Cole laughed at
her discomfort and Ava dropped her eyes. 
‘That WON’T be happening any time
soon,’
she thought with chagrin. 

“Proud of you,
Cole,” Frank said, placing a heavy hand on Cole’s shoulder.

Ava glanced over
to see Cole watching his father... face tense and wary.  His hesitancy made her
heart tighten in grief.

“Uh... thanks,
Dad.”

“Hell of a lot
of work to get this much detail and… and… life, out of stone,” Frank said,
dropping his hand and stepping forward.  “Must’ve taken you ages.”

Cole nodded. 
Father and son were side-by-side, but not touching.  A small smile framed Ava's
mouth.  They were trying... both of them.  Marta’s advice was obviously
helping.

“The way you’ve
caught the bird… or woman… in flight.  The detail… that’s just amazing,” Frank
said, nodding to the wings. “Don’t know where you get the talent from.”

Cole smiled at
him, uneasy but clearly happy.   

“I’m guessing
Cole got it from you,” Ava said, drawing both of their attentions.

Frank frowned.

“Oh no, I
don’t—”

 “But I’ve seen
your photographs,” Ava insisted.  “The ones in the den and library.  I guessed
– from pictures of Angela and your children – it must’ve been you taking them.”

Frank’s
expression shimmered, his eyes moving almost too fast to be seen from Ava to
Nina, and back again.  If she hadn’t been watching, she might have missed it…
an emotion akin to guilt.

“Yes, dear,”
Nina said, clearing her throat.  “I’ve always thought that myself.   Frank does
take lovely photos.”

Ava turned to
her, wondering at the unease she’d sensed from Frank.

“There’s one of
you on the landing, Nina,” Ava said.  “You’re sitting on a chair on the porch. 
The sunlight’s just gorgeous.”

Frank seemed to
relax at that.

“Yes, well,” he
muttered.  “It’s easy if your subject’s as beautiful as Nina here.”

Nina preened,
brushing her fingers through her hair, eyelashes fluttering in amusement.

“Oh Frank,” she
said with a laugh, “you do know how to sweet talk, don’t you?”

 “Now, what do
you say we all grab something to eat?” Ava suggested.  “We could have supper
before you leave. It’s nearly five now.”

 “I'd rather
just grab something on the way out of town.” Cole’s father groused.

Nina laughed
ruefully.

“Frank’s not one
for fine dining, Ava,” she said.  “I swear he’d eat macaroni and cheese every
night of his life if I let him...  straight out of the pot it was cooked in, at
that.”

Frank ducked his
chin.

“Less dishes,”
he muttered. 

Ava laughed
gleefully. The logic made sense to her.

“Then I have the
perfect place!” she announced, nodding to Cole. 

He winked as he
answered.

“Crown and
Sceptre?”

Ava sighed, her
face pressed against Cole’s back as the sway and pull of the motorcycle set her
body adrift.  They were taking an early morning ride, Cole showing her
different haunts of his youth. The two of them were spending the weekend with
Nina and Frank.  A large number of Ava’s paintings – some canvas, many
unstretched – were now piled in the back of the Beast, her bags covering the
passenger seat, so Cole had brought his ride as well.  She loved the feel of
the bike, had been considering how to buy herself one for months now.  Even
after paying for student loans, living expenses, and a little bit of cash
tucked away for later, there would still be a few thousand dollars left over. 
The idea of a motorcycle had an undeniable appeal.  She couldn’t wait.

This morning,
she and Cole were exploring the coast, heading to an area where Hanna and Cole
used to cliff dive as children.  Cole laughed off the dangers, but a very real
part of Ava hated that Hanna Thomas would drag her kid brother along for these
kind of outings.  One wrong move and she might’ve been taking this ride alone.

The thought was
stuck in the no-man’s land between fury and terror.

They needed to
be back in two hours, so Cole could make it to his session with Marta before a
session with his father.  Ava closed her eyes, letting the wind in her ears and
the heat of the sun against her leather jacket lull her into a sense of calm. 
It was like floating, only the shift and sway of the chassis hinting that any
other forces of nature were at work, so perfectly separate from everything else
that Ava's heart ached.  She and Cole were alone in the rush of movement; her
arms curled around his chest, her thighs on either side of his. 

Together.

The bike slowed,
and Ava's eyelids fluttered open. Cole pulled to the side, getting ready to
turn off onto a smaller road.   They were almost there. 

While Cole was
away later, Ava was looking forward to spending a few hours alone with Nina.  
The two women always ended up laughing at something, talking about crazy things
that Ava swore she’d never tell anyone.  A very real part of her was
considering sharing the nude painting of Cole with Nina (though she knew Cole
would be horrified if she told him that). 

Cole shifted in
his seat and Ava unconsciously moved with him.  She smiled as it happened: this
synchronicity.  While she would miss Cole this afternoon, she was proud of him
for taking therapy so seriously.  His small black notebook was now full of
memories and thoughts.  Cole shared them with her as he wrote and they’d
discovered a new understanding of each other as he did. 

Ava was a bit
nervous, as Cole had decided to bring up his mother during today's session. 
Ava knew it was for the best, but she also knew there would be hell to pay for
this one.  Cole planned to take his bike downtown so that he could leave if he
needed to.

Eyes still
closed, Ava felt the jitter of gravel rising through her feet resting on the
frame of the bike, up through her legs, all the way to her torso.  The tang of
salt air sharpened her senses.  She forced herself to wait, eyelids tightly
closed, wanting to have the full experience of this place.