The Art of Wag Page 17

  Rob sat down at the desk. “Where was it?”

  “Out past Kat’s place, way out in the woods. It was beautiful. Or it was when I was a kid, anyway.”

  Rob folded his arms on the back of the chair and grinned. “You were a flower child? How groovy.”

  Tracy turned on the computer. “Don’t knock it until you try it. I had a lot of fun. There were a lot of people there, so it wasn’t like I was unsupervised. But I had the opportunity to splash around in creeks, play with goats, and run around in pastures. Stuff that today would be deemed unsafe for a child.”

  “You could have stepped on a nail or drowned.”

  “Exactly. But I didn’t.” She splayed her arms above her head. “I lived to tell the tales. And there are many, but I’m sworn to secrecy.”

  “Did you take a hippie oath or something?”

  She put down her hands and shook her index finger at him. “If I told you that, it wouldn’t be a secret, would it? But I do have a hippie name.”

  “Tracy?”

  “No. That’s my regular name. I never tell anyone my hippie name. It’s another secret.”

  Rob tilted his head. “That hippie code sure is complex. But I bet your mother would tell me. She likes me.” He stood up, crossed over to the computer, and stood next to her chair. Very close. She could feel the warmth of his body next to her. He said, “So where were we? Do you want me to type again?”

  Tracy looked up at him. From her vantage point in the chair, he really did have a nice build. Tall, broad shoulders. She already knew those shoulders were muscular. It would be interesting to find out what the rest of him was like under those clothes. Wait. This was ridiculous. When did she start thinking he was cute? Sure, the date with Todd was demoralizing, but she’d kissed Rob exactly once. And now she was acting like a goof in front of him. This was stupid. Sure, he was nice and easy to talk to, but they’d been hanging out for days. What was her problem?

  He touched her shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

  She stood up quickly. “Nope. I’m fine. Doing great.” Yes. Not fine. Feeling like an idiot. “Why don’t you type first?”

  “Okay. Then maybe you can work on those illustrations for a while.”

  “Sounds good. My mouse will be at the ready.”

  Tracy pulled over the other chair and told him what colors to use, where to add photos and put in placeholders for her illustrations. Periodically, she’d lean in a little too close and lose focus again. The way Rob’s hair curled around his ears made her want to reach out and touch it. And whatever shampoo he was using smelled really good. Mmm.

  After about an hour, Rob turned and looked at her. “I need food. Let’s switch for a while. You can draw some illustrations and I’ll go over to the cafe and get something to eat before they close. Betsy is probably starting to shut down by now.”

  “You’re starting to know the neighborhood better. And the neighbors.”

  Rob put on his coat and said, “Betsy is really nice. And I’ve eaten so many meals there, I’m probably helping to put one of her kids through college. I’m actually at the point where I’m looking forward to cooking something myself again.”

  “You know how to cook?”

  “Of course. Doesn’t everyone?”

  Tracy sat down at the computer. “Sure.” No. Not really.

  Rob left the room and Tracy found an illustration she was supposed to be finishing up and opened the file. She began working and was so deep in concentration that when Rob opened the door, she almost had a heart attack.

  Rob put the white bags of food on the desk. “What happened? You look like you’re doing the Pledge of Allegiance.”

  “Nothing.” Tracy looked down and realized she had her hand on her chest. “You just startled me.”

  He looked over her shoulder at the drawing on the monitor. “Wow, that’s great. It looks like you’re done with that one.”

  “Yeah. Moving on.” He needed to stop getting quite so close to her. “I think I need coffee, though.”

  She got up and started brewing a batch of coffee. She turned back toward him. “See! The Mr. Coffee may be old, but it still works.”

  Rob stopped chewing. “Good thing. Because I’m already tired and we’ve got a long way to go.”

  Tracy sat down with her sandwich. “I know.”

  Hours later, Tracy had consumed enough coffee that she was starting to remember why all-nighters were a bad idea. It was almost three in the morning and her mousing hand was starting to shake from all the caffeine. Time to switch to cropping photographs, since drawing was becoming problematic.

  She opened the image of her father with the car. “This is so cool! I can really take a look at this old photo by zooming in.”

  Rob was lying on his side on the bed, looking rumpled. “The magic of zoom. It’s not just a kid’s TV show.”

  Tracy turned around in the chair to look at him. “What TV show?”

  “You never saw Zoom? It was on PBS in the seventies.”

  “I was at the commune. We didn’t do TV. Or electricity.” She turned back to the monitor. “I think this car really is The Turd. Check out the art. It’s so creative! There are peace signs, happy faces—and even a rabbit.”

  Rob got up, dragged himself over to the computer, and squinted at the screen. “Uh, is that a hookah? And a caterpillar?”

  “Maybe. I think it’s an homage to Alice in Wonderland.”

  “Or Jefferson Airplane.”

  Tracy started humming the tune to “White Rabbit.” She clicked a few times to look at different parts of the photograph. “See what happens when you chase rabbits. Check out that mushroom!”

  Rob sat down in the other chair next to her and picked up his glasses off the table. “We might not want to have images of stoned wildlife on the web site.”

  Tracy giggled. “Oh, you’re no fun. I’ll just modify it a little. Once the photo is small, no one will be able to tell that’s a magic mushroom.” She zoomed in on the image and began painting. She moved aside so Rob could take a look. “See. I fixed it.”

  Rob looked at the monitor and burst out laughing. “That does not look like a mushroom, Tracy.”

  “I know. I made it thinner.”

  Rob threw his glasses on the table and flopped down on the bed laughing uncontrollably. “Yes. Now it looks like. Well. Something else.” He caught his breath and waved weakly at the monitor. “Zoom out a little.”

  Tracy did as instructed and started to laugh. “Oh nooo. And it’s sitting right next to the smiley face too. This gives new meaning to the term Mr. Happy. I think this poor guy may have some type of disease, though. That’s not a good color. I think it’s inflamed.” She burst into loud peals of laughter.

  Rob sat up and made an effort to try to get himself under control. He cleared his throat and gasped, “Look! It’s Freudian Photoshop!” He collapsed back onto the bed, holding his stomach and convulsing with laughter.

  “Here, let’s add some effects.” She made a few passes with the mouse, adding a stone texture. “Look, now it’s rock hard!” Clutching her midsection and laughing, she got up from the chair and gazed at the monitor. Tears were streaming down her cheeks and she said weakly, “This is disturbing on so many levels. That’s my father standing next to the car.”

  Rob said, “Good thing your father’s last name is Sullivan and not Johnson.” He rolled over and pointed at the monitor. “It’s Mr. Johnson and The Turd—famous seventies folk band!”

  Tracy fell down on the bed next to Rob in a fit of laughter. She tried to collect herself, but it wasn’t working. She looked at Rob’s face and saw the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “Stop that!”

  He opened his eyes wide, giving her an innocent look. “I’m not doing anything.”

  She shoved at his shoulder as she dissolved into another laughing fit. “Yes you are. Cut it out!”

  Rob rolled over on his back breathing heavily. “Ugh. My stomach hurts.”

  “Mine too. I
wonder if it’s possible to actually die from laughter.”

  “Only at three in the morning.”

  Tracy giggled and sat up. “Okay. I’m getting it together again.” She stood up and returned to the computer. “This is me getting back to work. What’s that command that makes it all go away?”

  “Revert.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Happy, I’m reverting you. No more phallic Photoshop!”

  Rob started laughing again and rolled over on his side. “That sounds painful.”

  Tracy giggled. “I wouldn’t know. And stop that.”

  “Trying.” He sat up and made a feeble effort to look serious. “If we don’t get the contract, there are a lot of porn sites on the Internet. I bet there’s photo retouching work available.”

  “It seems I have hidden talents.”

  “I think so.” Rob chuckled and rolled over on his back again. He took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m more or less under control now. Really. For sure this time. I think it’s probably my turn at the computer, anyway. If I have some more coffee, I’ll be fine.”

  Tracy breathed deeply. “Okay. There are only a few pages to go. I’ll just crop this photo. No more mushroom. I promise.”

  He turned from the coffee pot and grinned at her. “I’m afraid I’m never going to be able to look at fungi the same way.”

  Tracy nodded. “Or my dad.”

  At around five in the morning, Tracy raised her hands over her head in victory. “It’s done! I’m done. So done.” She stood up and got out of the chair. She walked over to the bed and shoved Rob’s lethargic body. He stirred and looked up at her groggily. She peered down into his face. “Are you alive? Because I’m done.”

  He groaned and sat up. “Really? Completely? Done, done?”

  She pointed at the computer. “Yes. All photos are in place, illustrations are drawn, and empty boxes are filled. The pages are complete.”

  He reached out, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down to him for a bear hug. “I can’t believe it. You did it!”

  Tracy hugged him back. “We did it. This was definitely a team effort.”

  He released her. “I have a splitting headache. Maybe we should get some breakfast.”

  “Nothing is open yet. Let’s walk down to my place. I have some cereal there. And I’d like to spend some time with my toothbrush.”

  Rob stood up and ran his fingers through his hair. “Good idea. Be right back.”

  While Rob brushed his teeth, Tracy looked at herself in the mirror above the dresser. She looked like she’d been run over by something. It was not pretty.

  She grabbed her coat and they walked out into the cold, quiet morning. A whisper-thin layer of frost coated the leaves on the ground and they sparkled in the lights of the motel parking lot. Getting out in the cold air felt good after being cooped up all night in the motel room. Rob seemed to perk up a little. Tracy turned to him. “Are you feeling better?”

  “A little. I still have a headache. And I’m spaced out. I’m not sure if taking a nap before the meeting would make me feel better or worse.”

  “I don’t know about that. I do know that a shower is going to be extremely important to my well-being. Only a couple of hours and this will all be behind us.”

  He took her hand. “Thanks again for your help. When we started in on this, I didn’t realize how much work we’d have to put into it. I thought it would be just that one meeting, not this huge proposal. But I think the design came out really well.”

  “I hope I can still channel Annette when I’m this tired.”

  Rob looked at her. “Who is Annette?”

  “My made-up fabulous artiste. At the first meeting, I pretended to be Annette. She’s a wildly successful brilliant LA artist who sells tons of paintings to high-end galleries across the globe.”

  “That’s interesting. Is Annette your hippie name? It’s not very flower-child-like.”

  “No, Annette is make-believe. She is creative, confident, and wealthy. She is definitely not a vet tech in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere.” Tracy sighed. “If you absolutely must know, my hippie name is Rainbow.”

  He stopped on the sidewalk and pulled her around to face him. “Rainbow? That’s great. I can see you as Rainbow. Maybe that’s why you’re so good with color. If you can’t channel Annette, maybe you can channel Rainbow instead.”

  She shook her head. “Not a good idea. Rainbow is a flake.”

  Rob pulled her closer to him into a hug. “But a really cute flake.”

  She put her arms around his neck. “I don’t feel very cute right at this particular moment.”

  He stroked her cheek. “I think you are. But I’m looking forward to you spending that time with your toothbrush.”

  Tracy giggled. “Sorry. Coffee breath is icky. Walk faster. It’s freezing out here.”

  They got to Tracy’s apartment and she dispensed some cereal. Rob sat on the sofa with his feet up on the coffee table. He looked down into the bowl. “I haven’t had Cap’n Crunch in a long time. The crunch berries are sort of scary, aren’t they?”

  “Hey, fruit is important.”

  Rob waved his spoon at her. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that’s not fruit. On a different note, have you thought about putting shelves on that wall? Then you could get some of this stuff off the floor.”

  “I suppose that would help. It would require money, though, which has been in short supply. Did I mention that the Cap’n was on sale?”

  He examined the crunch berry floating in the pinkish milk on his spoon. “I didn’t think about the cost. Maybe you could find some cast-off wood and create a couple shelves that way. You know everybody. Someone is probably building something somewhere.”

  “I’ll ask around.”

  After Rob went back to the H12 to take a shower, Tracy faced the ugly prospect of finding something to wear for the meeting. After possibly the most wonderful shower ever, she stood and stared into her small closet. Shelby was in possession of her only decent suit, and Tracy had worn it to the last meeting anyway. She riffled through the clothes and found a fairly presentable skirt and blouse that would work. This was Alpine Grove. They should be glad she wasn’t showing up in jeans and a flannel shirt.

  Later, Rob knocked on the door and Tracy let him in. At this point, he was freshly washed and shaved, so he looked significantly less bedraggled than the last time she’d seen him. But definitely still tired. One advantage of glasses was that they could sort of disguise dark circles. Wearing glasses was certainly easier than applying 700 pounds of concealer like she had.

  He surveyed her outfit. “You look nice.”

  “Anything would be an improvement. You ready to go? I’m looking forward to seeing your car again.”

  “You do seem to have a special attachment to it.”

  As she locked the door, Tracy turned to him. “Try driving The Turd around for a decade or so and see how you feel.”

  “Please don’t make me think about your car.” He chuckled. “If I start laughing again, I’m so tired I may pass out entirely.”

  She took his hand and swung it back and forth. “Maybe I should drive your car.”

  “Nice try.”

  They drove to the house on the lake and got out of the car. Tracy looked up at the building. The original Victorian had been restored and was surrounded by impeccable landscaping, with stone walls that curved around the property like ribbons trailing across the expansive green lawn. A lot of lakefront property was nice, but this place oozed so much opulence that it was hard to believe it existed in Alpine Grove. Tracy turned to Rob. “So this is how the other half lives. I’m thinking he can afford your quote.”

  The house had a huge ornate wooden door with a metal lion-head door knocker. Rob raised his eyebrows at Tracy and knocked on the door. “Here we go.”

  She smiled nervously back at him. “We’re prepared. No problem.”

  Ben Walsh opened the door. He was wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. Tra
cy did a mental eye roll. In Alpine Grove, even the rich people wore the same clothes. Although with the somewhat dashing Sean-Connery thing he had going, Ben looked as if he had walked out of a J.Crew catalog, not like he’d just rolled out of a tent in the woods. Still, she might be a tad overdressed.

  Rob shook Ben’s hand. “It’s good to see you again.”

  Ben waved them into a huge entry area with an arched mahogany ceiling. “Come on in. Let’s go sit down in the library.”

  Rob took a chair at the huge wooden table and set his laptop case on the floor. Tracy took a chair next to him. The room was lined with rich walnut bookshelves and antique-looking leather-bound books that were undoubtedly worth a fortune.

  Ben sat across from them, looking expectant. “Would you like something to drink? Maybe some coffee? I know I dragged you out here a little early, but I have quite a few meetings to get through today.”

  Tracy looked at Rob. The expression on his face suggested that even the idea of coffee might make him throw up. She said, “No thank you. We’ve had our coffee this morning.” And last night. In extreme quantity.

  Rob pulled the quote out of his bag and handed it across the table to Ben. “Here are the numbers. There are black-and-white printouts of the screens, but if it’s okay, we’d like to show you our mock-ups on the laptop, so you can see the colors.”

  Ben nodded. “That would be fine. Have at it.” He turned to Tracy. “I’ve talked to Rob a few times since we met. How have you been? I still think I’ve met you somewhere before.”

  Tracy went for her most winning smile. “I don’t know about that. But I do know we’ve put a lot of work into these mock-ups. I hope you like what we’ve put together for you.” No, she was not going to mention being a hostess at the Italian restaurant. Not at the last meeting. And not at this one either.

  Rob got the laptop going and went through the information in the quote. Ben had his elbows resting on the table and looked on in a polite and mildly interested way. He was one of those men who was blessed with a great poker face. It undoubtedly helped him a lot in business.

  Rob sat down and said, “I’ll let Tracy talk about the design elements.”