The Grooms

The sun light poured through the tall window, and splashed on the violent slashes of sapphire and Rubby. It washed over the man who stood beside the canvas like a warrior at battle,wielding a paint brush like a claymore. He had the face of a warrior tough, intense with knife edge cheek bones, adding hollows to a mouth that was full but firm in concentration. Eyes sparkling green and icy cold beneath knitted brows. His hair wavered over his ears,curled over the collar of the demin shirt he wore in leu of a smock. He’d rolled his sleeve up and well toned muscles of his arms rippled as he slashed the brush on the canvas. He was built like a warrior, broad shoulders, narrowed hips and had long legs. His feet were bare, his wild and clever hands smeared with paint. In his mind he saw explosions of emotions, passion, lust,hunger and greed. And all of these he poured into the canvas while listening to a rock song from the stereo that filled the air . To him painting was like a war to him, a war he was determined to conquer over and over again. When the mood is on him he would work until his arms ached and his fingers cramped, and when his moods are otherwise he could ignore the canvas for days or weeks. There were those who said Mc Armstrong lacked discipline. To those who said ,who the devil wanted it ?. As he clamped the brush in between his teeth, switched to a palate knife to smear on a bold emerald point, his eyes glittered in triumph. He got it now. The hours of waging this battle is almost over. A thin line of sweat slide down from his back and the sun coming from the window was fierce now and the studio was viciously hot, he had forgotten to turn on the air conditioner. He had forgotten to eat as well or check his mail, check his phone or glance out of the beautiful tall window beside him. He stepped back with the brush still clenched to his teeth like a pirate’s blade, the palette knife like a dagger in his hands, that firm forbidden mouth curved. “That’s it” he murmured. He put the the brush in a jar and began to clean the knife as he studied his work. “Need” he decided to call it simple Need. And for the first time in hours he realized that the room was stuffy, filled with familiar scent of paint thick in the air. He crossed the unpainted hardwood and shoved open one of his closed windows, took a deep breath of fresh air. It had been the windows and the view that got him attracted to this apartment when he decided to return to Washington, he grow up here with a ten years of his life spent in the White House as first son. For a period of time he’d live and worked in New York City,and enjoyed it. He also lived in L.A and enjoyed it also. Throughout his twenties something had tagged at him. He’d finally given into it. This was home. He stood by the window with his hands shoved into his pockets of the ragged short jeans he was wearing. He took a deep breath again, the weather seemed to be calming and refreshing and flowers were blooming prettily. Armstrong wondered what day it was. Then realizing he was starving to death, he left the music playing on and went to the kitchen. The pent house was two levels with the top designed for master bedroom suite. Armstrong had made it his studio and slept on a mattress tossed to the floor in his spare room. He hadn’t gotten around to be dealing with bed frame. Most of his clothes were still in his packing boxes, they had been shipped nearly three months ago. The main floor had a spacious living area with more windows undraped, in it there was a small single sofa with the tag still on, a Phyfe table with half inches of dust on it surface, and a floor lamp with a dented metallic shade, the Radom wide pine floor was desperately in need of vacuuming. The dining alcove of the kitchen was empty, the dishes and pots weren’t heaped in the sink but were still in a box. He went straight to the refrigerator and bitterly found it empty apart from some bottled water, a white wine, two can bear and few eggs. He could have sworn he went shopping. He checked his cupboards and found some slices of very moldy bread, a bag of coffee, four boxes of cornflakes and a can of soup. He ripped open a box of cereal and ate a handful while debating which one he wants more. Coffee or a shower. He’d just decided to make a cup of coffee and take it with him into the shower when the phone rang, he noticed without much interest that his message light was blinking and munching dry cereal he answered “Hello”. “There’s my boy”. And those icy green eyes were warm, his mouth went soft, Armstrong leaned against the counter and grinned “ Hey grandma, what are you up to?”. “Some would say no good” Annie tiny sharp voice boomed out. “Don’t you return your message?” I’ve talked to your bloody machine half a dozen times in the last few days. Your grandpa wanted to fly down to make sure you were dead in your bed”. Armstrong only lifted a brow. It was well known that Annie used her serene husband whenever she wanted to nag the children. “I’ve been working” “Good, that’s very good but you can take a break now then, can’t you?” “I’m taking one now” “I’ve a favour to ask you Armstrong, I don’t like to do it.” Annie let out a heavy sigh that had her grandson’s brows knitting. “What do you need grandma?” “You won’t like it, God knows I won’t blame you. But I’m in a bit of a fix. Your aunt Rose ….” “Is she alright?” Armstrong straighten up from the counter. Rose was his grandfather oldest and dearest friend, his godmother and an honourable member of the family, Armstrong adore her, and he remembered he hadn’t seen her since his return to Washington. “Oh she’s perfectly healthy my dear, don’t worry about that, the woman is feisty as ever, but she has another godchild i doubt you remember her, you’d met her once or twice when you were younger..Lin Benson?”. Concentrating, Armstrong got a vogue image of a little girl. “What about her?”. “She’s back in Washington. You know Benson’s department store?. That’s her family, and she’s working in the store there now. And as for Rose well, I’m just going to say it straight up. There’s a charity event tomorrow evening and Rose is fussing because the girl doesn’t have an escort. She has been all over me asking me to ask you “ “Damn grandma” “I know right” Annie used her most long suffering sigh. “Women boy, what else can i say. We’ll peck away like duck until we get what we want. I told her I would ask you, it would be a big headache for me if you don’t miss this event. “ if you and aunt Rose is trying to set me up….” Annie interrupted with a hearty laugh that had Armstrong frowning. “Not this one boy, this girl ain’t for you, take my word for it, she’s very pretty and has good manners , but she’d never do for you. Too cool to my way of thinking and a bit of the nose in the air sort. No, no i wouldn’t like to see you in that direction. And if you can’t spare sometime for the evening event, I’ll just tell Rose that i reached out too late and that you already got plans”. “Tomorrow night?” Armstrong scooped his fingers through his hair. He hates charity functions “is it black tie” “I’m afraid so” Annie makes sympathetic noises. “Tell you what, I’ll just call Rose back and tell her guy can’t make it, no need wasting your time with a girl who’s likely to bore you out, is there? I doubt that the two of you have the slightest thing in common. Better start looking for a wife boy, it’s time you get Married and settled, i and your grandpa worries you’ll need up starving in your studio. A lonely old bachelor without a single chick or child by his side. I’ve got another girl in mind. She’s”. “I’ll do it” Armstrong quickly interrupted. If Annie didn’t think more of Rose goddaughter, it means he won’t be on the phone constantly asking for a relationship update. Perhaps after this favor, his grandma might seize of her relentless pressure on him about marriage and though Armstrong didn’t hold much weight on that outcome it was worth a try. “What time tomorrow and where can i pick Miss what’s her name again up?” “Oh bless you, I owe for this one, The brimstone’s at seven o clock, at the the sliver hotel, Lin’s taken over her family house on A street” checking her nails, Annie gave out the address. “I really appreciate you taking me out of this fix Armstrong” Armstrong shrugged while putting some more cereal into his mouth and sharing family gossip with Annie, and he wondered where the hell he might have store his suit and tux. “Oh aunt Rose really” Lin stood in her underwear, a waterfall of white silk over her shoulders and a mortified facial expression on her face, “A blind date?” “Not really my sweetheart” Rose smiled “you’ve met with him before when you were a kid, i know it might be difficult, but Annie rarely asks me for favors, it’s just one evening you were going out and she saw you and….never mind” “I was going out with you?” “I’ll still be here but darling he’s a very gentle and sweet person, a bit picky but still very nice” she beamed “of course all my godchildren are wonderful people” Rose continued to smile widely as she sat and studied Lin her goddaughter. Rose was a petite woman with her hair all grey and soft. And with a quick and sharp mind, when the moment call for it like right now, she would adapt a fragile and helpless air. The aged widow Lin thought and chuckled. “Annie worries about him” she continues “so do i, the man keeps too much to himself, but honestly who would have thought that when i was just casually mentioning tonight event and how you’d comeback to Washington, that Annie would get this idea in her head? “I was just…” Rose fluttered, her hands helpless on her laps “I didn’t know how to refuse her and i realized what an imposition it is”. Because her beloved godmother suddenly looked so unhappy, Lin relented “it doesn’t matter, as you said I’m going anyway” gracefully she stepped into her gown “are we meeting there” “Ah” checked the time, “actually he’ll be here shortly to pick you up, and I’ll meet you there. Oh my goodness, look at the time my driver must be wondering what has happened to me”. “But….”