Chapter 1-1
Chapter 1
He saw the handsome young man and instantly knew he had to have him. Oh, he wouldn’t kidnap him. After all, that was against the law. Instead, he would become friends with him. Then, slowly, he would begin to romance him, until the young man could no longer resist falling in love with him. But that was in the future. First, he had to find out all he could about him, beginning with his name.
* * * *
Ryan glanced from the sketch he was working on to the man and woman sitting a few yards away who were the subjects. It was obvious they were arguing. What he was trying to capture was their expressions and body language. He flipped the page to do another sketch, nodding when he finished it. Better. Not perfect, but better.
He was about to try again when someone said from behind him, “That is excellent. I can feel their anger.”
Turning, Ryan saw a good-looking man, at least five years older than his own twenty-five, if not more.
“Are you a professional?” the man asked, c*****g his head to study the sketch again.
“I’m trying to be,” Ryan replied with a self-deprecating smile.
“Meaning?”
“I’ll have a few drawings in a show coming up at a local gallery, as part of their New Artists exhibition. If they sell, I guess that’ll make me a professional.”
“I would think, if this—” the man tapped the sketch, “—if this is an example of your work, they will definitely sell.”
“Thanks for confidence boost,” Ryan replied.
“Which gallery?”
“The First Street, on, no surprise, First Street. The show opens this Friday.”
“Perhaps I’ll check it out, umm…” The man looked at Ryan in question.
“Ryan.”
“A pleasure to meet you, Ryan. I’m—” The man’s cellphone rang before he could finish. He answered, walking away as he talked.
“Not terribly polite,” Ryan said under his breath. “Leaving me hanging like that.” Turning to a new page in his pad, he did a quick sketch of the man’s face from memory. He’d make a good subject for one of my drawings. Not like I’ll ever see him again to suggest it, I suspect, but he would.
Thumbing through the pages in the sketchpad, he decided he’d done enough for the day, so he stood, stretching to work out the kinks from sitting on the park bench for so long. He realized, as often happened, he’d lost track of the time. He had half an hour to make it back to his apartment, change clothes, and get to work.
Someday, I’ll be a famous artist, and then I won’t have to worry about holding down a day job to support myself. Ryan chuckled as he started down the path. Or at least middling well-known, to keep a roof over my head and food on the table. He was praying the exhibition at the gallery would be the first step in achieving his dream.
