In the Name of Love

Chapter 2-2

Ryan had just taken the orders from a party of four, seated in his section, and was on his way to deliver them to the kitchen, when he saw someone he thought he recognized come into the restaurant. It took him a moment to realize it was Merrick. The last time he’d seen him had been at the opening, almost a week ago.

After dropping off the orders, Ryan returned to his section to find Merrick had been seated at one of the tables for two.

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Merrick said when Ryan approached. “When an acquaintance of mine suggested I try the food here, I never expected to have someone I know as my waiter.”

“I rarely get anyone I know as a customer,” Ryan replied, smiling. “Or, to be honest, never. The prices here are well beyond my friends’ budgets, I’m afraid.”

“Have you been working here long?” Merrick asked.

“I started during my last year in college,” Ryan told him, just as a customer at another table tried to get his attention. He told Merrick he’d be right back, asking before leaving if he wanted something to drink.

“I’ll let you know when you return. By then, I’ll probably know what I want for dinner, as well.”

The other customers, a couple in their mid-forties, had made their choices for dessert. “Five minutes ago,” the man said acerbically. “I thought you’d know we’d finished dinner, since the busboy had cleared away our plates.”

God save me from officious people. Ryan politely apologized, took their orders, and relayed them to the kitchen. Then he went back to Merrick.

“From the look on that man’s face, he’s the kind who expects a waiter to kowtow to him,” Merrick said, rolling his eyes.

Ryan nodded. “We get them now and then. Did you decide what you want to drink?”

“A glass of Cabernet Sauvignon. For dinner…” Merrick grinned at Ryan. “I told you I’d be ready to order. I’ll have the heirloom tomato salad, and the beef Wellington.”

“Coffee with the meal?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Ryan nodded, and returned moments later with the wine. He didn’t get a chance to talk any more with Merrick until the man had finished his dinner.

“Would you like more coffee, or dessert?” Ryan asked.

“Just coffee, thank you.”

Ryan refilled his cup, before doing the same for the people at two other tables. By then, it was late enough the restaurant was more than half empty. So, after Merrick had paid for his meal, Ryan had a chance to talk with him.

Or, rather, answer some questions from Merrick, starting with, “Have you sold any more of your drawings?”

Ryan knew he was bragging a bit when he said, “Almost all of them, believe it or not.”

“Wonderful,” Merrick replied. “Now you can retire from restaurant work and spend all your time creating more. And I think you said you do watercolors as well?”

Ryan didn’t remember telling him that, but the opening had been so exciting he figured he must have, during their brief talk there. “I do,” he replied. “The only reason there weren’t any at the gallery was because the owners felt there were too many other artists who specialized in them, and they wanted to balance it with oils and drawings.”

“Do you do oil paintings as well?”

“No. I much prefer doing what I’m good at, and oil painting is not my forte, as I discovered at art school.”

“Where did you go to school?” Merrick asked, looking at Ryan over the rim of his cup before taking a sip.

“Here in the city. I came out here right after high school, since they offered me a partial scholarship.”

“Impressive.”

Ryan chuckled. “It would have been more impressive if it had been a full one.”

“Did your parents help pay your tuition?”

“No. They…died in an accident when I was seventeen.”

“I’m sorry,” Merrick replied softly. “Would I be wrong in presuming you stayed with family until after high school?”

“My aunt and uncle. They were very nice about it, but they had a family of their own, so…” Ryan shrugged. Why is he so curious about me? Probably for something to talk about while he finishes his coffee, since we sort of know each other. I should return the favor and ask about him. He might have done so, if he didn’t have a couple of other tables which he realized he’d been ignoring. He excused himself then went to check on how everyone was doing. He started back to where Merrick had been seated only to see the man walking toward the restaurant’s front door.

I wonder if he’ll come back again. Do I care? He thought maybe he did. It was nice, having a good-looking man seem to be interested in him. Not that it means anything. I’m just the artist he happened upon in the park. If I hadn’t mentioned the opening, I’m sure he wouldn’t have shown up there. Still…He thought about the sketch he’d made of Merrick, which was tacked above his drawing table at the apartment. Wishful thinking? Definitely.

With that thought, he got back to what he was being paid for, dealing with the last of the customers in his section and then helping clean up before going home.

* * * *

“Now how do I make contact with Ryan again?” Merrick wondered aloud as he drove back to his house. “More to the point, when I do, what then? I want him. How do I make him want me?” He sighed. I don’t even know if men are his thing. He could be as straight as they come. The only thing which says otherwise is the fact that he did post some pictures on his f*******: page last year of his attending Pride. Including a few of him with his arm around other young men’s waists or shoulders.

Back to the main problem, though. How can I set it up to run into him again without seeming obvious about it? Or does it matter? He rapped his fingers on the steering wheel, then smiled when he came up with an idea which just might work.

* * * *

“Ryan, it’s David Foster from the gallery,” the man said when Ryan answered his phone late Thursday morning. “I had a call, about an hour ago, from one of our patrons.”

“They want some of my drawings? Ones that aren’t in the show?” Ryan asked hopefully, his mind half on the conversation, the rest on the drawing he was doing of an angry couple, based on the sketches he’d done at the park the previous week.

“Yes, and no. The man wanted to know if you do private work. He wants either a drawing or a watercolor of himself to give to his mother for her sixtieth birthday. I told him I’d check with you. If you’re interested, I’ll put you in touch with him.”

“Do you want a percentage, if I agree?” Ryan asked. “Not that I mind, if you do.”

“No. Your contract with us is only for what you sell through the gallery.”

“All right. Honestly, I’ve never done anything like that, but I’m willing to try.” He chuckled. “I suppose the worst that happens is he hates it when it’s finished.”

“I seriously doubt it,” Mr. Foster replied. “I’ll give him your phone number.”

“Thank you!” When he hung up, a feeling of elation washed over Ryan. “Maybe, just maybe, I’m finally on my way to becoming a real professional. Okay, so I already am, thanks to the show, but being paid to do someone’s portrait?” He looked around the bedroom in his apartment which he’d turned into a studio. “If he likes it, and tells his friends, then maybe I can get a real studio. I could live with that.”

* * * *

Thursday night at the restaurant, Ryan had kept an eye open for Merrick, on the off chance he’d come by again. He had to admit he felt disappointed when it didn’t happen, even though he hadn’t really expected it to.

As soon as he got up Friday morning, and had eaten breakfast, he went back to the angry couple drawing, and a watercolor he’d been working on. It was almost noon when his phone rang. He was tempted to ignore it, except for the fact it might be the man Mr. Foster had told him about.

“This is Ryan Westley,” he said.

“Hello, Ryan, this is Merrick.”

Ryan frowned. “How did you get my number?”

“From Mr. Foster at the gallery. He gave it to me when I asked him if you worked for yourself, as well as showing your drawings at the gallery.”

“That was you?”

Merrick chortled. “It was, unless they’ve had more than one inquiry about you.”

“I wish.”

“Don’t worry, it will happen. For the moment though, did Mr. Foster tell you what I was looking for?”

“Yes. A portrait of you, either a drawing or a watercolor. You want one to give your mother for her birthday.”

“Exactly. How much would it cost?”

“I…well…” Ryan had no idea what to tell him. “I suppose the same price they were charging at the gallery, depending on the size.”

“From three hundred to four-fifty?”

“Yes.”

“Ryan,” Merrick replied, “you’re undercharging. You’re not taking into account the time you’ll spend doing preliminary sketches, or your travel expenses coming out to my house.”

“You want me to come…Okay, obviously you do.”

“Unless you have a studio somewhere, and somehow I doubt it.”

“I could, you know,” Ryan protested. “But I don’t,” he admitted. “Another dream of mine, for the future.”

“When would you be available to start?” Merrick asked. “It would have to be in the evening. I have my business to run, during the day.”

Ryan worried his lip momentarily. “I’m off on Mondays and Tuesdays.”

There was a pause, then Merrick replied, “What about Sunday during the day? At least for our first meeting.”

“Sure. When? I’d have to leave in time to get to work by four.”

“Then let’s say eleven, if that works for you.”

“It does. What’s the address?”

When Merrick gave it to him, Ryan realized the man lived in one of the very high-class suburbs of the city. He smiled ruefully. Boy, am I outclassed.

“All right, I’ll see you then. You can park on the drive in front of the garage,” Merrick said. “Thank you for agreeing to do this. It will mean the world to my mother.”

“Thank you for offering me the chance,” Ryan replied sincerely before saying goodbye.

* * * *

“Step one completed.” Merrick took a deep breath, sighing with relief. Now, which room should we use?

He didn’t want one which would remotely suggest he had an ulterior motive for hiring Ryan, but he also didn’t want to set up in the living room, or the parlor. Too formal. He supposed they could use the library—the number of books he owned might impress Ryan—but it still didn’t feel right. Finally, he decided the small patio out back might be the best spot. The weather was predicted to be warm and sunny, a perfect spring day, and the small patio wasn’t roofed, so he figured Ryan would appreciate the natural light. After all, when I first saw him, he was outdoors in the park.