The Guy In Apartment 333. (Gay Romance)

( 3; Work Hard )

( Chapter Three ; Work Hard .. )

I remember a little boy growing up with a coloring book and a 24 pack of crayola crayons. Then he grew up some more with a sketch book and shades of black pencils. Than he became a man with a canvas and paint brushes. The moral of this story is trying to figure out why I got stuck working in an art gallery. For one of the most obnoxious, arrogant pompous assholes who thinks he's a good artist. If only I could wrap my hands around that neck of his...

"Can you stop daydreaming and get back to work. I pay you to work, do it. I have a show coming up and everything isn't catalogued nor ready."

After years of being in the US , he still had that thick french accent. I used to drool over it, now I hate it with a passion. "Sorry Jean-Luc Pierre. I am almost done with the cataloguing."

"Almost isn't the same word as done, is it not."

"No sir." He gave me a firm, "Hmm." and left.

My boss people. He likes his whole name to be called. This guy was the original asshole of painting. The only problem with that phrase is , he couldn't paint nor draw. Truth be told... It's all my work.

I was just a young boy with a dream and on a mission. Fresh out of college with little work experience, I set out to follow my dream. I met Jean-Luc while I was naïve and still needed nurturing. My first real love I thought. He used me for my talent. He enticed me with love and marriage and living a successful life with him. I paint and then he would manage.

Liar, he took credit for all my paintings, all my works, he put his name on everything. Said that it would be better if everyone thought a man like him had painted my masterpieces. He got the fame, and the money and I got disengaged and verbally abused. So how could I have possibly ended up working for him? Because in the end, it's still all of my work. This gallery should be mine. I rather me work for him to keep my work intact than to let him ruin everything. One day I'll take it back. One day.

Back at home in a cold apartment ...

It was a bit chilly in here. It felt so good to curl up on the couch in a blanket. My favorite TV show was on and I was just relaxing. Missing my Larry. He would lay right under me when it was TV time. I guess I have been avoiding a lot of things Larry would do with me. Like sleep for one, I am teribbly sleepy.

(Reasons I Should Go To Sleep; Because I'm tired. I have a migraine. It's about to rain.) It was getting a bit boring and my very old easel was staring at me. Strange I hadn't painted nothing new in about 3 years. I don't think I remember how to do it. At some point something is suppose to inspire you, something is suppose to come along and speak to you.

I got up and went into the cabinet. I pulled out my tools, my brushes. They all looked so foreign, like I had never used them. Grabbed my paint and filled my palette. Tensed and on a high that I hadn't felt in years. I stepped in front of my easel. Looked down at my colors and began to paint. I knew what I wanted to paint, just didn't know how.

Can a masterpiece be finished in a day? In a night? Are you determined beyond mind that you would pour your heart into your art and finish it in a single night? I did. I glanced over at my clock. 12:43AM. I looked back at my canvas. There he was, the guy from apartment 333. I painted him, I painted him GOOD. I wish you could see what I see. Maybe you can...

Close your eyes. It's always the eyes you see first. Smokey eyes, almost mist like. That's how you paint them. A face so beautifully structured. No creases, no indents. Just smooth and round, almost as if you're painting pure elegance. His body starts to fill out and you're unsure, so you fantasize. The strength of his arms more powerful than Hercules, the contours of his chest are more chiseled than Achilles, the thickness of his thighs are more thrustful than a horses gait. And through it all he belonged to you, so you painted it as if he were. From that direct stare in his eyes to the soul extending arm. Can you see him now? I had to step back and sigh. I wanted this guy with an arrogant passion.