Chapter 2
I laugh as Tony and Lara fight amongst themselves.
They’re the oldest kids that come to the community center and their help is immeasurable.
Today they’re helping me get a start on the new mural.
I’m painting on the side of the diner in town.
The kids at the community center voted on a depiction of the mad tea party from Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland.
Tony and Lara are going to help me on the project.
I always do the main characters, but the two of them do the sketching of the background and do the clear varnish over the final product to protect it from harmful UV rays and vandalism.
Their skills are growing and soon I’m going to give them a space to do their own mural.
In fact, I’ve already got it arranged on a small building at the end of town.
A local optometrist has his practice there and he’s commissioned the project.
I’m going to surprise them after we finish this one.
They’re currently sketching for me. Lara is working on the table and Tony is doing the swirls of color that make up the background along the edges of the mural.
Me? I’m drawing the white rabbit complete with his giant top hat and pocket watch.
I’m excited for this project. I’ve always loved the story of Alice and to bring it to life makes me happy.
I haven’t had the easiest road in life. Art has always been my safe place—an escape.
“What do you think?” I ask, while looking at the rabbit I just sketched.
Tony and Lara take a step back to view my handiwork. I see Lara tilt her head, taking it in. Tony, however, just keeps staring at it and frowns. “Miss Cutter, don’t get mad but …”
“What is it, Tony?” I ask, worried I messed up something.
It looks okay to me, but I have to admit that sometimes I concentrate so deeply on the character I’m drawing that I miss the position and scale of the grand scheme of things which sometimes gets me in trouble with the other elements in the project.
“Well, the way that mushroom is poised in front of him …”
“Yes?” I ask, sensing he doesn’t want to finish his thoughts, but I can’t see what he’s hung up on. It looks pretty good to me.
“Is the rabbit naked? I mean I know you have his topcoat and hat on, but is he not wearing pants?”
I frown. You couldn’t see his pants because of the mushroom. So, I’m not sure what he’s getting at. “Well, yes, he has pants on, but you won’t be able to truly see them because he’ll be hidden by the mushroom and the table.”
“True, but …”
He stops talking again and I can tell Lara is getting as frustrated as I am. “Just spit it out, Tony. You know by now that you can’t really hurt my feelings.”
“Ms. Cutter you drew his, well his …” he stutters, and I swear his face grows bright red.
What on earth?
“Just tell me, Tony, because I’m not seeing anything.”
He points to the giant caterpillar that is lying on top of the mushroom.
“You drew his di—his thing. I mean, geez, kids will see this and that’s kind of not okay.
Plus, it’s almost as big as he is. I’ve never seen a rabbit’s private parts.
Then again, I’ve never seen a rabbit who wore a suit and could tell time.
It’s just I’m pretty sure his thing wouldn’t be that big and huge! ”
Lara starts laughing, unable to stop herself. I’m trying to hold my laughter in, though. I don’t want Tony to think I’m mocking him. It’s a struggle though. “Tony,” I finally say when I get a little bit of control over my response.
“Yeah?” he asks, and now even his ears are bright red. If he blushed any harder, I’m pretty sure he’d be glowing in the dark.
“That’s not his um … thingy. That’s the caterpillar from the book.”
“A caterpillar?” Tony asks and then, I realize that Tony has never read the story. From his reaction, I feel pretty safe in saying he’s never seen the movie either.
Lara continues laughing as she slaps Tony on the shoulder. “You doofus. You really thought Miss Cutter would put a dick on a mural for the town’s diner? Geez, you big dummy it’s not like we live in Greece or France.”
“Lara don’t call Tony names,” I chastise quietly.
“What does Greece or France have to do with Miss Cutter’s mural?” Tony asks.
“That’s where they have all those statues with a man’s junk on them,” she explains.
“Oh, yeah. You know men back in those times didn’t have any length at all. Not sure why they wanted to model for the sculptors. I mean I wouldn’t want the world to know hundreds of years later that I was packing a teeny weenie,” he grumbles.
That’s when I lose it, I laugh so hard that my head goes back. I can’t contain it any longer.
Lara continues snickering and Tony joins her this time.
“Let’s go get the rest of Miss Cutter’s supplies from her car,” she suggests.
I’m still laughing as they walk away. My eyes are wet from hilarity.
I love those two kids. I’m trying to dry the tears running down my cheeks by lifting my arm and doing my best to dab my eyes with my shirt—without touching my face with my charcoal covered fingers.
That is not an easy task. Still, if I don’t outline using charcoal and then shade it with my fingers, it makes painting a million times harder—especially on a brick wall.
I freeze when I hear the sound of a motorcycle, the engine roars as it barrels down the small two-lane road that makes up Mainstreet. My head jerks up on instinct and my breath seems to lodge in my chest as I meet the gaze of the rider. He stops the bike right in front of me.
I drink him in. He’s beautiful. There’s no other way to say it.
His dark hair is short, yet still messily cut in a way that makes you think it still needs a trim.
His beautiful brown eyes are intense and makes my heart flutter.
I can’t force myself to turn away, so I just stand still—like an idiot—as he gets off his bike with a smooth grace that I’ve never seen in a man.
I need to snap out of it, but at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if my mouth isn’t open with my tongue lolling to the side.
My heart changes from fluttering to running away with me when he speaks with a deep, raspy voice that sets my nerve endings on fire.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he purrs and it’s all I can do to keep myself from melting. Instead of worrying I’d be a puddle on the concrete, I should have worried about acting like an idiot.
“You talking to me?” I ask, sounding like a breathless, female version of Robert DeNiro from a movie I watched years ago. I face palm immediately, wishing the ground would swallow me whole.
God, I’m such an idiot.