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A surprise awaited me at the studio. I buzzed the slightly hidden button outside of Nicolas' converted warehouse space. When he answered the door, a young man accompanied him. He was younger than me by maybe five years. The stranger was attractive, and his wiry six-foot frame supported a fit body. Sinewy biceps poked out from his tight-fitting t-shirt. His hair was dark brown, almost black, and he sported a well-groomed mustache and goatee.
Nicolas threw his arms around me. I'd grown accustomed to falling to my knees to greet my Master, but I hesitated in the presence of a stranger. Nicolas acknowledged the hesitation with a quick nod and a smile. I remained standing and held out my hand in greeting to the stranger.
He clasped my hand for a shake as Nicolas announced, "Ryan, this is Taylor Wade. And Taylor, this is my boyfriend, Ryan Rowley. As I mentioned earlier, we just got home from a memorable vacation."
"Pleased to meet you, Taylor." I raised an eyebrow in Nicolas' direction, indicating my desire for more information on the young man.
Nicolas screwed up his mouth into a grimace and shook his head. "I almost forgot about Taylor. Before we went on vacation, this young artist who recently graduated from college approached me. Taylor is a gifted young painter and a diligent, disciplined worker. He will assist me as a sort of apprentice in the art world. He has plans to become a well-respected artist represented by prestigious galleries."
I gazed at Taylor and let my eyes perform a once-over from head to foot. I would have preferred a female Taylor, but I also understood and admired Nicolas' commitment to helping a younger generation of artists, regardless of their gender.
Taylor said, "I'm pleased to meet you, too, Mr. Rowley. I've heard so much about your family."
"Only the good stuff is true. The rest is a bunch of nefarious lies."
Nicolas laughed. Something about the way he visibly relaxed when I made a joke concerned me. I couldn't put my finger on my worry just yet. Nicolas gestured toward the interior of the studio. "Let me show you some of Taylor's work. He brought along a small portfolio."
Taylor's art was abstract. Clean, sharp lines and large, bold masses of color dominated his work. I saw a solid commercial appeal in his pieces. The paintings were not like something you would buy at an upscale department store to put on the wall. They stood out from the ordinary.
To give me the opportunity for a closer inspection, Taylor pulled out large prints of five of his pieces. He said, "I hope to make this my lifelong career. Most of my friends are planning to be in an office for at least five to ten years after graduation or go to graduate school and prepare to teach. I want to live in the studio like Mr. Fairfax."
I nearly blurted out, "But you aren't going to live in Mr. Fairfax's studio."
At that moment, I understood my concern. I was jealous. The green-eyed monster had come to rest on my shoulder. Although Nicolas did nothing to indicate he had eyes for anyone but me, at the first arrival of another handsome young man, my hackles rose.
Getting a grip on myself, I spoke with resolute calm. "It all looks promising, but Nicolas would be a much better judge than me." I turned toward Nicolas, who was smiling at Taylor. "Will you interview other promising young artists for this position?"
Nicolas folded his arms across his chest and turned toward me. I couldn't help but stare down at his tight jeans, knowing what they contained. If we were alone, I would be on my knees, nuzzling my face into the denim.
"That was my original plan, but I am very impressed with Taylor. He has admirable drive, and he strikes me as a young man who typically gets what he wants. I don't think the extra effort to interview others would be a positive expenditure of my time."
Taylor beamed at the compliment. I sensed a disconnect between his thought and his follow-up comment. "I wouldn't go quite that far. I don't always get what I want."
I tried hard to avoid frowning, and I thought Nicolas' assessment was likely accurate. However, if Taylor had designs in one particular direction, I knew that he would not be getting what he wanted.
Going against my typical pattern of communication with Nicolas, I changed the topic. "I had an extraordinary meeting downtown. I heard a few glowing comments about you, too."
A look of surprise appeared on Nicolas' face. He pulled his concentration away from Taylor to focus on my comments. "Oh, yes, that's right. I'm happy to hear it went well."
I glanced in Taylor's direction. "I would love to tell you more about it."
The hint tossed through the air found its mark. Nicolas turned back toward Taylor, who was busily stuffing his prints back into his leather portfolio case. "Let's call an end to this meeting, and you should hear about my decision in just a few days. Ryan and I have some matters to discuss."
"Of course, Mr. Fairfax."
"Regardless of my decision, I'm sure we'll cross paths again soon. The local and regional art circles are not that large." Nicolas reached out his strong hand, and the pair shook.
I fought back a growl when Taylor's eyes focused downward. As Nicolas released his hand, Taylor shuffled his way to the door.
I called after him, "All the best, Taylor." And he was gone.
When the door clanged shut, Nicolas pointed to the floor at his feet, and I dutifully fell to my knees, leaned forward, and kissed the tight denim.
