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The Artist
by Julie Guirgis Gypsy’s cafe was a haven for artists of all types: musicians, poets, painters and writers. Sweet sounds of the acoustic guitar echoed in my ear. Closing my eyes, I savored the scene like delicate morsels of fine chocolate. My eyes feasted on the nineteenth century gothic paintings that veiled the burgundy and black velvet jacquard flock wallpaper, marveling at their beauty and mystery. I had found my creative space where I could write, with the company of other artists. After ordering my chai latte I retired to a quiet spot in the corner. Pulling out my notebook with pen poised, my thoughts were interrupted. Tingles ran across my back as I noticed someone staring at me from the corner of my eye. Curious, I slowly looked around, trying not to appear too obvious. There I saw a man in his forties wearing a black velvet hat, studded leather jacket, stonewash jeans, and a Guns N’Roses T-shirt. Hypnotized by his blue eyes, I watched him gently stroke his long sandy blond hair. The smooth curve of his high cheek bones mixed with blue eyeliner made him look almost pretty. He embodied that raw sexuality of an eighties rock god. It was lust at first sight. “I like your T-shirt” I complimented. “Yeah they’re pretty cool” he replied casually. He had one of those soft voices that oozed self-control. He carefully removed his sunburned electric guitar, cradling it like a baby. “What’s your favorite Gunners song” he asked me. “Estranged”. “Good pick”. When he started to play it the room became still. He was gorgeous as well as talented. Clearly he was a professional and made it look effortless. When he finished, the crowd applauded, and I sat mesmerized. “You’re a great musician, thanks for playing that for me”. “Anytime sweetie” he winked. “I’m Kristal by the way”. “My name’s Harley”. “Do you have a Harley, Harley?” I joked. “In fact I do. Maybe I’ll take you for a spin sometime” giving me a sexy grin. I felt like he had already taken me for a spin, being around him made me light-headed. I liked the way he talked with an air of mystery. His cool calm persona intrigued me and I was curious to know why. He moved towards the counter and I returned to my writing. Lost in my own thoughts I didn’t even notice him leave. A few days later Steve, a close friend of mine came over. He was a casualty of a recent breakup, finding his girlfriend in bed with his best friend Sam, the ultimate betrayal. He would often drop by pouring his sorrows out over a meal or bottle of wine. He invited me to a see a band on Friday night, never one to knock back free tickets I said yes. But when Friday came around I came down with a bad flu so he went on his own. That night, I heard a loud knock at my door around midnight and could hear Steve calling out. When I opened the door my nose was flooded by the stench of bourbon. I stood staring at his disheveled hair, ripped clothing, bloodied fat lip and black eye. “You look like crap. What happened to you?” I said. “I saw a guy at the gig that looked like Sam and swung a punch at him, it went downhill from there”. “I thought you got into a fight with a grizzly bear and lost”. “Feels like it” he slurred. “Come in and I’ll fix up. Do you want to crash on the sofa?” “That would be great, thanks Kristal”. I rummaged through the first aid kit until I found some bandaids, antiseptic and ice for his bruised eye. When I dressed his cuts I noticed him staring at me with a longing look in his eye, I was uncertain why, whether it was the alcohol or me caring for him. The next thing I knew he was, leaning in to kiss me, but I quickly pulled away. “Your drunk and we’re too good friends to go there.” He shrugged at me, eyes half closed. “I’ll make you up a bed on the sofa and you just get some rest”. “Ok,” he mumbled. The following morning I found the sheets neatly folded with a thank you note but he was gone, most likely embarrassed about what happened the previous night. Too be honest, I didn’t really care about his drunken pass at me. I had other things on my mind like when I would see Harley again. I would subtly pass by Gypsy’s to see if he was there. On arrival I noticed a Harley Davidson parked outside, I was hoping it was his. I hurried inside. There he was with a group of female admirers, glued to him like bees to honey. Not wanting to interrupt I ordered a coffee to go. I saw him look over and call out “Hey Kristal I owe you a ride”. “Oh yeah, I forgot about that” I lied, trying to act nonchalant. “I’ll just have my coffee and meet you outside” The group of women glared at me, exposing their jealousy. Unfazed by it, I ignored them. I noticed the clean, powerful lines on the bike blended in with the powerful lines of his body, as though they were one. I knew this would be one hellish ride. I swung one leg over the smooth leather seat, resting my foot on the side pedal. My tiny frame shadowed his strong physique, wrapping my arms around his lean waist, locking my hands across his strong stomach. Speeding off, I felt wild and free, my dark auburn hair dancing in the wind. I closed my eyes and leaned into him, my face resting on his back. The musk of his body was a mixture of dried sweat, cologne and tobacco. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. He must have read my mind when he suggested we go back to his place. We barely made it to the front door before we we’re tearing each other’s clothes off, full of animal passion. Rushing to the bedroom, his warm hands closed over my knees, guiding them as he spread my legs. He then laid me on the tiger print rug and started nibbling and licking my erect nipples. I groaned with pleasure. My body felt like it was on fire. He knew how to tantalize me longing for more. After half an hour of foreplay he invaded me with his strength. Loud moaning filled the room as he brought me to climax over and over again. We laid there breathless for a moment holding each other. When we regained our strength I felt a new connection. I had a good feeling about us Harley made me a coffee and we hung out for a while talking about our favorite bands and life in general. An hour later I told Harley I was going home. His hands locked onto my hips, grinding his body to mine, he drew closer to me kissing me passionately. On the drive home I could still feel the remnants of the kiss. It felt electric, like fireworks running through me. Over the next couple of weeks we spent nearly every day together. We were inseparable. I learned a lot about him and he told me what his future goals involved. Harley was a typical musician he usually didn’t have much money, getting only a few gigs. Frustrated with being a cover singer, his ambitions were greater. He told me he was just in Sydney to save some money and return to L.A. and succeed over there, he had connections. Being fifteen years older than me I hung on his every word even idolized him. He must have known I was caught in his spell. As we were chatting he told me he was low on cash, and had to register his car. His car was important to him for getting to gigs and storing his instruments in. I couldn’t bear it if he couldn’t get to work so I offered him $500. Reluctant to take it he said he didn’t want handouts but I insisted so he accepted it. Things stated to get serious with us but he said we should take the relationship slow, that good things take time. He said we should get to know each other as friends first, I agreed with him. But I told him I didn’t want to be just another notch in his belt. Our relationship was unconventional, giving me the freedom that I needed. He was a creative free-spirit like me, so we fitted together perfectly. We walked to the beat of our own drum, free of social constraints. Even though we weren’t officially a couple everyone at Gypsies knew we were hitting it off, especially the other women I saw him talking to. Suzy, one of the older women Harley knew approached me one day. Her emotionless stare made me wonder if she was going to start something, but as she got closer her expression softened, like a concerned mother. “Kristal, I noticed you’ve been spending a lot of time with Harley but please be careful of him, he slithers like a snake”, she said, then returned to her group of friends. I sat there in shock. Harley was everything to me, I refused to believe her. She didn’t know the way he looked at me or how he made me feel. Enraged, I told Harley what Suzy said to me. He appeared calm, his words sedated me. He told me that she had been interested in him, but he wasn’t in her. She had never forgiven his rejection, and was just jealous that I was seeing him. He was so convincing that I blindly believed him. I didn’t mention it again, and made an effort to avoid Suzy. Harley and I had been seeing each other for a few months when he told me he had to move out of his apartment immediately, and had nowhere to go. He tirelessly looked for other places but to no avail. Many landlords were suspicious of the musician’s lifestyle, thinking he’d be partying all-night. It broke my heart to see him living in his car in the middle of winter. He kept persisting in his search, until one day a Real Estate Agent called him with a vacancy. I was ecstatic; finally he had found a place. Once he paid the bond he could move straight in. Everything was going great until he asked to borrow money for the bond. He promised me he was good for it, as he was getting some gigs soon. I had given him money in the past but, I didn’t want to be his walking ATM. “How much do you need” I asked reluctantly. “Two grand. I know it’s a lot babe but you know I’ll pay you back”. “Whoa! That’s too much I can only lend you $500”. Everything was fine until later that day he said the Real Estate rang and said he needed the money immediately or else he would lose the place. I didn’t want that to happen after he looked for so long but he put me in an awkward position. Suzy’s words haunted me. I was too madly in love with him back then to take heed of her counsel. “You’re not manipulating me are you?” I asked him trying to ease my unsettled mind. “No, it’s women who always manipulated me. The only thing they’d let me do is my music. But you’re not like them, your cool Kristal. You get me”. He was deflecting, avoiding the real question. My head was telling me this was a bad decision, but my desire to help him and develop our relationship took over. He acted so calm that I gave in. Days later my suspicion grew. Feeling like I had made the wrong decision, I rang Steve to talk about it. As soon as I mentioned Harleys name he said he knew him and was notorious for using women, especially financially. “He’s a con artist and a sociopath, the only person he cares about is himself” he told me as I stood there frozen, with a sick feeling in my stomach. I tried to talk but no words would come out. It was so surreal, like I was hearing about someone else’s life. Who was this man that regularly declared his love to me, had this all been lies, a trap to make me give him money? Thoughts raced through my mind, trying to make sense of this mess. I kept shaking my head in disbelief. Sharp pains pierced my brain like a knife Steve, who wasn’t a stranger to heartache, came over straight away to comfort me. At first I tried to fight through the tangled emotions and humiliation. I couldn’t hold back any longer and burst into tears. Steve bundled me closer as I started to shiver, his arms wrapped tightly around me like a warm blanket. The following day I rang Harley to demand answers but he never picked up his phone, like a phantom he had vanished, but I knew he was hiding out. Walking down his street I saw his car pull up, but he didn’t notice me. I knocked on the door, but he didn’t answer. I could see his silhouette through the slits of the closed blinds, the shadow of his hair behind the bedroom door frame. Shouting like a madwoman I cried out “I’m not going anywhere until you answer the door; I know you ripped me off you scumbag”. He wouldn’t come to the door; he just continued to hide like a coward. I ripped the metal screen and kept banging and banging on the door and calling out for over half an hour. He hid. I left. Drained and exhausted. Being on his Harley wasn’t the only ride he took me on. Thoughts of getting him bashed, threatening him till he paid up came to mind, but something told me I would never get the money back. Then a brilliant idea came to mind. I would devise a plan to get him hammered and shave his head. I knew how much he worshiped his golden mane, and how devastated he’d be without it. I had to work quickly. Appealing to his inflated ego I rang one of my gorgeous friends Sherrie, to invite him back to her place, and seduce him. A few nights later Sherrie welcomed him into her apartment, wearing a satin and lace negligee showing off her voluptuous figure. Her blood red painted lips accompanied a sultry smile and her long blond hair was tousled to one side. “Care for a drink honey” she asked in her husky voice while leaning against the bar. “Make it a scotch on the rocks babe”. “Sure”. Many drinks followed that one until he was plastered, then she called me. He was in the land of oblivion when I arrived. I was armed with my weapons of destruction, clippers, mirror and a camera. I unevenly shaved his head making him look like a freak and waited at the foot of the sofa for him to awake. I wanted to make sure the first thing he woke up to would be me. When he saw me he was wide-eyed and full of panic. I held up the mirror to his face. “Smile!” I giggled deviously, the flash almost blinding him. I never got the money back but the look on his face was priceless. |
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