Page 36 of Love on the Waiver Wire
It’s the same with Owen. Do I like him? A lot. I’ve found him attractive for years. But is this going to turn into anything? I’m not sure. I’m not going to rush it, even if my heart wants me to.
Sometimes you just have to sit back and enjoy what’s happening.
You win, Peaches. I’m surprised.
Speak of the devil…
Thank you, I knew I’d pull through.
No you didn’t, but nice try.
“Who are you texting?” Mila asks, sitting up and stretching. I look at the time. She has work in the morning and is probably heading out.
“My brother,” I lie. “He didn’t do great this week.”
“Does he ever? I feel like whenever you’ve ever talked about him playing fantasy it’s always been to talk about how much he sucks.”
She has a point.
“He’s been doing better I think, from what it sounds like.”
“Are you still named Ian?”
I nod. “I don’t think any of the guys have figured it out. I’m honestly not sure how much they care. It’s just some stupid rule Leo decided to make.”
Mila gets up, putting her long hair in a bun before getting up to grab her shoes.
“Well I hope all of that works out because I can’t imagine how irritating your brother would be.”
I can.
* * *
My phone buzzing wakes me up in the morning. I roll over, staring at the grey-blue wall in front of me. If there’s one thing I don’t want to do today, it’s get up and do much of anything.
I have two commissions to finish and ship out today, one of which has been from a nightmare client, the other for an older woman in California who somehow found me online. Both pieces have been fun to paint, but one client is definitely easier to work with. I’m nervous about sending the difficult client a message to let her know that the painting has shipped, because I know I’m going to get ten emails back right away asking how it was packaged—carefully, wrapped in multiple layers of paper and bubble wrap, and then put in a wood-enforced heavy-duty box—what to do if there’s any damages—there never has been any issues but if there are, there is insurance on the package—and if I know when it’s going to arrive—the tracking number sent with the email is super useful, but it says it’ll be there Friday.
I close my eyes again, my phone vibrating once more. I groan, reaching for it on my side-table, almost pushing off my jade-colored lamp and a couple of books stacked up.
Owen Crosby
Are you taking advantage of your win today?
Maybe. What time are you free?
Anytime after three.
How about you meet here for six? I’ll order food. Bring snacks.
You got it.
Rolling out of bed, I go about my morning routine getting ready, throwing on a sports bra and loose pair of overalls. Pinning my hair up, I grab my mug of water, brew a cup of coffee, and sit down on my floor as the morning light streams through my windows, casting a golden glow on my canvases.
These paintings are meticulous. I love the challenge of commissions, because when I paint for shows, it’s from my heart. When I paint commissions, it’s something the client wanted. I love doing both. The relaxation that comes from painting whatever comes to mind, and the challenge that painting something that may not come as easily to me.
It keeps my brain working. Coming up with new ideas. Not settling for comfort. It allows me to broaden my talents and learn new things.
Pulling out some gold foil, I add it to the sunset behind a city skyline, brushing off the excess.
