Devon Hartford - Reckless

My cheeks glowed red. “Romeo!”

“Relax, Sam,” Romeo said dismissively. “We’ve all seen what’s in Christos’ fruit basket more than once. But we have no expertise in the fully erect department. For that, I turn to you for corroborative evidence. Can you describe his manana to us?” He arched an eyebrow while pretending to hold a microphone in front of me like he was a news reporter.

Kamiko gawked at both of us.

“No!” I blurted.

“No, you won’t describe it,” Romeo said, “or no, you haven’t peeled it?”

“Uhhhh…” Why did I feel guilty all of a sudden?

Kamiko snorted laughter. “Romeo, even I know you don’t peel them.”

“If they have a foreskin, you do,” Romeo said plainly.

“It’s not the same kind of peeling,” Kamiko corrected. “It’s more like pulling down the wrapper on a freezer pop.

I grimaced. “This conversation has officially become uber disgusting.”

Romeo frowned. “Wait a second, Kamiko, how do you know so much about mansicle wrappers?”

“I am pre-med, in case you forgot. I know what a foreskin is.”

“Yes, but you seem to have intimate knowledge of their function. First-hand experience, perhaps? Are you hiding a boyfriend, Kamiko? I mean, other than Finn the Human? Like, a real live boy, boyfriend?”

“No, Romeo,” Kamiko insisted.

“Whoa!” Romeo chided. “Down, girl! Strident denial is a sure sign you’re hiding something!”

“Do you think she’s secretly dating Brandsome?” I suggested coyly, happy to have the heat off of me.

Kamiko’s cheeks flushed red. “I don’t know what you guys are talking about!”

“Hmmm,” Romeo considered shrewdly. “This bears further investigation. I do believe the plot has thickened. Unless that’s just me thinking about Christos’ manana again.” He shifted his belt around and wiggled his pants while jiggling his hips. “Yes, my plot has definitely thickened.”

“Oh, gross,” Kamiko grimaced.

“Anyway,” Romeo dismissed her, “back on topic. Sam, is Christos’ peeled manana curved or straight? I need to know.” He held the imaginary microphone up to my face again.

“Romeo!” I pleaded, pushing his hand away.

“I hear the curved ones hit a lady’s G-spot the best. Although, I think when it comes to my B-spot, straight is my preference.”

“What’s a B-spot?” Kamiko asked, confused.

“It’s in your bu—”

“Okay, class,” the professor said, clapping loudly several times right behind Romeo’s head, “enough chatter. We have a lot to cover today. Shall we begin?” The professor was a middle-aged guy with unruly hair and a permanent frown which reminded me of pictures I’d seen of Ludwig van Beethoven.

Romeo’s lips curled into a sneer and he frowned at the professor’s back.

Me and Kamiko both choked down our respective giggle fits.

The professor wore a button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and jeans. Despite his casual appearance, he seemed a bit too serious for my taste. “My name is Professor Cogdill,” he said. “I will be your Oil Painting professor this term. Today we’ll be painting a simple still life. I’ll do a brief demonstration before you begin your paintings. I will show you how to prepare your palette. I will show you how to block in the basic composition. I will show you how to contrast warm colors against cool. I will show you how to…”

I glanced over at Romeo, who was frowning at the professor like they were lifelong enemies.

“Professor Cogdildo needs someone to peel his manana immediately,” Romeo whispered while rolling his eyes. “Maybe then he wouldn’t be such a stick in the butt. Because I’m telling you, he’s so not my type. I’m going to be stuck squeezing my butt cheeks together all term long.”

I stifled another giggle while the professor droned on.

Despite the professor’s stiff demeanor, no pun intended, he was extremely knowledgable and logical in the way he explained everything. I was amazed that he was able to paint an awesome picture of the fruit bowl in about twenty minutes. I’d never seen someone paint so fast before. It was amazing to watch him work. Afterward, while he rinsed his brush in a can of Turpenoid, he said, “All right, everyone, please take your places and go to work.”

At my easel, I squeezed out paint like the professor had shown. He had used some burnt sienna paint to lay in sketchy lines on his canvas. I did the same, blocking in the basic shapes with a medium-sized brush.

“Remember, class,” the professor intoned, “your block-in can be loose. You will correct things as you go.”

I glanced over at Romeo, who was already laying in the shapes with his brush. He was focused on getting the shape of the banana just right, by Romeo standards.

“Um, Romeo?” I whispered. “Why does your banana look like it’s going to have a mushroom tip?”

“I’m just painting what I see, Sam,” he said, somewhat offended.

Kamiko leaned over to look at Romeo’s painting. She grimaced, then looked at the fruit bowl. “I don’t see a mushroom tip on that banana, Romeo,” she jabbed.

“I see dicks everywhere I look, darling,” Romeo said dismissively.

“You are such a Peen Queen, Romeo,” Kamiko smirked.

“I admit it,” Romeo said, hand held dramatically over his heart. “I am cock royalty. Although I like to think of myself more as the Princess of Penis.”

“Am I the only one throwing up in my mouth right now?” I grimaced.

Kamiko puffed out her cheeks and her eyes went wide. She held two fingers to her lips while she made fake gagging noises.

I was giggling as I returned my focus to mixing colors on my palette.

Between Romeo’s antics and the painting itself, I had a blast. By the end of class, I also had a pretty good oil painting of the fruit bowl, banana included, but no mushroom tip.

“Wow, Sam,” Kamiko said. “You did a great job with your lights and darks. Your lighting and shading is so realistic.”

I couldn’t believe it either. “Thanks, Kamiko!” I looked at Kamiko and Romeo’s work, and theirs were really good too. “Yours looks great, Kamiko.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. “I was worried working with the oil paint would screw me up.”

“Yours is awesome, Kamiko. Even Romeo’s looks great, now that his banana doesn’t look like a manana anymore. I think we all owe Professor Cogdill some thanks.”

“Because his last name is so phallic?” Romeo asked.

I had to laugh at that.

Maybe my life wasn’t about to blow up in my face. Maybe things were looking up.

CHRISTOS

When Russell Merriweather had called personally that morning to tell me to meet him at his law offices downtown, I knew it was not going to be good news.

I parked my Camaro in the downstairs garage and took the elevator up to the twentieth floor of the building. Russell had spared no expense when he’d leased the place.

“Hey, Rhonda. I’m here to see Russell,” I said to the receptionist. I’d met Rhonda the first time I’d come in six years back. I’d always been impressed with her professional attitude. Russell only hired the best. She was also hot, but she was all business and great at her job.

“Mr. Merriweather is expecting you, Christos. He will be with you in a minute. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?”

“I’m good, thanks, Rhonda.” I strolled over to the picture window and gazed out at the stunning view of San Diego bay. An aircraft carrier was parked at the naval base, covered with F-18s. What I wouldn’t do to hop in one of those jets and Mach 2 the fuck out of here.

“There he is!” Russell beamed, smiling wide, striding into the waiting room a short time later. Even when he wasn’t in court, Russell wore immaculate, tailored suits that enhanced his already towering silhouette, making him basketball-tall. His exuberant personality added another three inches at least. “Christos Manos, in the flesh!”