A Rose by Any Other Name

Chapter 11

Roe woke up then with a loud snort. She rubbed her eye, looking around. She smiled at me and waved, "Hi-" she gasped softly, "I don't know your name." Her hair was fair and blonde, along with her deep dimples making her seem more docile than she really was. Her messy mop of hair, and her strawberry stained mouth did a lot to make her seem like a wild child.

"It's Derrick," I said, wondering who did her hair and why it was so messy. I had the desire to make it neat and braid it or comb it or something. My fingers itched to straighten her up but I settled on twisting my hands together and pressing down into my thighs.

She leaned over conspiratorially, and she blinked with both eyes and then one; her somewhat successful attempt at a wink, "Are you sure it isn't Hodgins?"

Darren laughed, his low voice taking over the car, "Roe loves this picture book series about this detective. Detective Hodgins. I think she thinks he looks like you."

"He does, Daddy. Even his frown is the same." She looked up at me hopefully, "If there's a movie, you'll play Detective Hodgins right?"

"Uhm," I stuttered, looking out the window at the country side. There were even some moose out here. Or was it mooses? Maybe meese.

"Riiiiiiiight?" Roe pressed, blue eyes getting wider and wider.

Mike laughed then, bright and easy, "Roe. You're one interesting kid, that's for sure."

She let the subject drop then going back to her Spongebob episode. 

"So, Derrick-" Darren started, "Tell me about yourself."

I wasn't sure where to start, "Well, I'm a tattoo artist." I said curtly.

"Interesting," Darren said not sounding that interested at all, "I'm an accountant. I just made senior partner at my firm."

"Well, you certainly are senior." I murmured, meeting his eyes in the rear-view mirror. I enjoyed the frown lines that settled between his brows when he heard my comment.

"It must be hard being in the creative industry..." he replied staring back at me, "What with the difficulty in finding opportunities and such."

"I do alright," I said in a tight voice, rubbing my chest. Damn, it was aching again, that dull throb somewhere near my heart.

Mike cut in then, something like humour in his voice, "Derrick is also an artist, it's amazing what he can do with his hands." I chose not to examine the innuendo of that statement.  But Mike's voice was clearly enamoured as he spoke about me. I was flattered that he valued my art that much. "He can do portraits, abstract, oil on canvas, water colour, even sculptures. It's really incredible." he almost sounded breathless. "In fact I keep a small picture of one of my favourites in the glove compartment. You can check."

Darren shuffled in Mike's glove compartment, taking out a folded up image. It was the picture of something I had apparently painted,  "Holy Shit." he looked back at me with something like wonder in his eyes, "You're seriously talented." he stared down at the picture and then at me, "You really painted this?"

I held my hand out for the picture to look at it. It was a picture of me beside a canvas on an easel smiling happily. I hadn't even realized I had a dimple in my left cheek. My hair was longer here, big curls turned to waves around my ears and covering the nape of my neck. There was a half finished portrait there; it was of Mike but he looked more innocent and he seemed younger. It looked like some kind of art studio, the floor filled with tarp and just empty walls for a studio. The picture though- even I had to admit it was breathtaking. And it was just Mike, looking almost surprised I had caught him on camera, mouth parted slightly in surprise with the city as a backdrop. He stood turned back slightly looking at whoever was viewing the portrait. The painting was almost filled in, the only thing making it seem real was the fact the picture was half done. Half the city was still a rough sketch and the rest looked so real as to be a picture.