SPIRAL
By SANDEFUR
7-4-05/Monday Evening
On the top floor of the Arcadia Herald, a large Independence Day party was in full swing. A few people still lingered in the executive dining room, enjoying the lavish buffet, but most of the large crowd had moved on to one of two viewing spots for the upcoming fireworks display.
Most of the men were on the wind swept roof, enjoying drinks and cigars while waiting for the show. The wealthy and powerful mixed with various community leaders, and while the occasional high-powered deal was ironed out in cautious whispers, the majority were simply enjoying the party. That included Capt. Will Girardi, head of the detective division of the Hogan County Sheriff's Department.
Will and Helen had been personally invited by their host, Ryan Hunter. To Will's delight, he and Ryan had struck up a mutual friendship, and now he often found himself circulating amongst the city's wheeler-dealers. Without the friendship of the young newspaper publisher, Will would have been ostracized by such people for having arrested so many of their friends in the political scandal of two years ago. But with Ryan's support, Will found himself hailed as a corruption-fighting hero. Will felt both amused and flattered by such attention.
Just below, in Ryan's huge, luxurious office (complete with private elevator), most of the women were gathered. The roof's high winds were incompatible with expensive hair-dos and willowy summer dresses. Helen Girardi circulated freely in the mostly female crowd, sipping her wine and looking for one particular woman.
"Hello Rebecca."
Rebecca Askew turned from the window and smiled as she recognized Helen. "Mrs. Girardi, hello again. I'm glad you found me. We've barely had a chance to exchange two words all night."
"That's because you're the most sought after woman here, at least by other women. I wish I could say I approached you with noble reasons, but I'm as desperate for gossip as everyone else. So tell me, what's it like dating Ryan Hunter?'
Rebecca charmingly blushed before answering. "Sorry, I can't dish you any juicy tidbits, because the private Mr. Hunter is no different than the public one. He's sexy, smart, charming and always kind."
"But surely in your private time alone, you have managed to learn more about him—his true nature, his past, his hopes for the future?"
"You know how some men are emotionally repressed and keep everything bottled up inside of themselves?"
"Yes, I'm familiar with that 99 percent of the male population."
"Well, Ryan is like their king. Getting Ryan to open up is like trying to chip through a steel wall with a toothpick."
"How sad, especially for you and any long term plans you may have."
"No problems there. Ryan made it very clear when we started dating that he wasn't interested in any form of commitment. Normally I wouldn't be tempted by a casual fling, but, well…"
"He's just so damn hot."
Rebecca gave a guilty laugh, and glanced around to make sure they couldn't be overheard. "I haven't told anyone this, but I've been as curious about Ryan as everyone else. I even did a little snooping into his background, but couldn't find anything of interest. When I asked him about his past, he made the excuse that his parent's divorce made it too painful to talk about, even though they have both passed on."
"So he has no family?"
Rebecca rechecked their privacy before answering. "That's the impression he likes to give, but last week he received a birthday card from a Dr. John Hunter of Los Angeles. He muttered something about his 'damn brother' before he shredded the card!"
"Wow, I bet there's a helluva story behind that."
"Which I'm dying to know, but Ryan clammed up tighter than usual, and made it clear the topic was verboten."
"Then we better change subjects, because Ryan is headed this way."
Ryan, playing the part of the charming host to the hilt, was escorting a plump, grey-haired man of sixty over to meet them. Helen realized Ryan was doing this as a special treat for her, but she wished he wouldn't. The man was a world renown artist that Helen had often expressed admiration for, and she had recognized him at the start of the party. Unfortunately, he was thoroughly drunk and crudely hitting on every woman he met. Helen preferred her heroes not to have feet of clay.
After greeting Rebecca with a brief kiss, Ryan made the introductions. "Rebecca Askew, Helen Girardi allow me to introduce our famous visitor, Eric Goetz."
Helen responded, "Mr. Goetz's fame is well known and well deserved. Sir, it's a honor to meet you. Your portraits of the world's famous and powerful are inspirational. I always point you out to my students as a daring innovator worth emulating."
"As well you should. After all, I'm…I'm brilliant." Goetz replied in a drunken slur with a slight European accent.
Rebecca said, "Mr. Goetz, I understand you are teaching a month long seminar at Arcadia College? That's something you've never done before."
"A favor. Wouldn't bother with such dribble, but a favor, for Ryan. Nothing! Nothing I wouldn't do for him. Saved my life, ya know?"
"Oh really? Please tell us more."
Ryan smiled. "All I did was give him some financial advice."
Goetz nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Yes he did. Had all…all my money invested in that dot com nonsense a few years ago. Ryan warned me to get out before the bubble burst. Otherwise I would have been poor, and I couldn't live poor. Tried it once when I was young, and I didn't like it…" Goetz paused to gather his thoughts. He stared at Helen, or rather her breasts, and said, "Ryan tells me you're an artist."
"Little more than an amateur. I teach high school art."
"Then you must want to get better. So why didn't ya apply for, uh, that thing at the college?"
"It never occurred to me to try. Besides, you have to submit an example of your best work, and I didn't have anything appropriate that is ready."
Ryan held up a large manila envelope. "What about this?" He removed a 16 X 24 photograph and displayed it to all. Helen froze in shock. It was her abstract—the one she had burned.
"How did you get this? Where did it come from?"
"Ken Thompson from the Franklin Gallery took a photo with his camera phone and saved it even after all this time. I had the Herald's photo department enhance the image as much as possible. What do you think, Eric?"
Goetz studied the photo and nodded. "It's good. Too bad the original isn't available. Did you sell it for a huge fee?"
Helen hesitated a moment. "Actually, I burned it."
"You burned this glorious painting—your best work? Madame, you are utterly mad."
"Sir, I…"
"I love that in an artist! You're in. Class begins tomorrow at noon. Ungodly hour…" Muttering, Goetz walked away—giving Helen a quick pinch on the bottom as he left.
The others didn't notice, and Helen didn't make an issue of the indignity. It had been a long time since a man had been so blatant with her, and Helen was mostly amused (and just a little bit flattered). After all, she had been 'hand-picked' to be in a class taught by Eric Goetz! Even if the man was a pig at parties, he was still one of the greatest artists of the day.
X X X X X
7-5-05/Tuesday Midday
Helen arrived at the appropriate classroom only a couple of minutes before the start of class, due mostly to her unfamiliarity with Arcadia College. She was sorry to see she was the last to arrive, and was surprised to see Goetz was already there. Considering the prodigious amount of alcohol he consumed last night, it was amazing he had shown up at all. He sat at the front of the class wearing dark glasses and breathing from an oxygen tank.
"Mr. Goetz, are you okay?"
He smiled and tapped the green oxygen tank. "Twenty minutes of pure oxygen, a guaranteed cure for any hangover. Take your seat Mrs. Girardi. I've divided the class into male/female teams."
Helen hurried to the only empty seat in the class of 50, who were a wide variety of people of all ages. Helen recognized a few of them as fellow artists on the local scene. She was sharing a table with a young man in his late twenties, who seemed quite ordinary except for the way he avoided all eye contact. Uh-oh, Helen recognized the signs of someone painfully shy, and for whom all social interaction was an ordeal.
"Hello, I'm Helen. Looks like we're partners for this class." she softly said.
He nodded, gulped and responded while staring at the floor, "Mason."
At precisely noon, Goetz stood and addressed the class. "Those of you who came here thinking you would learn how to paint like Eric Goetz have wasted your time and money. As great as I am, the world doesn't need 50 inferior clones of me. What the world does need is the 50 of you being the best damn artists you can be. Before you, under those cloths, are the submissions that got you in this class. You 50 are the elite who were good enough to be here. You should be proud of that, because it will be the last moment of pride you will exoerience this month. MEN, you will get first chance to critique your partner's work. Be brutally honest. Ladies, reveal your hidden beauty!"
All over the classroom, the women unveiled their artwork. Helen revealed the photograph of her painting and waited while Mason stared at her work.
"It's beautiful, and I don't usually like abstract art. The colors are bold, and what I can tell of the brushwork, you were confident and uninhibited."
Helen breathed a sigh of relief, not just because he liked her work, but because Mason could speak normally when it came to art. "I'm sorry I only have a photograph. You see, shortly after painting this, I burned it."
Mason chuckled. "Maybe that's why Mr. Goetz put us together. Under here is a reproduction of a painting I did of my ex-girlfriend. When our relationship...ended, I took all the sketches and paintings I did of her and threw them in the dumpster."
Helen chuckled too. "We're a perfect match."
Goetz again addressed the class. "And now it's the guys turn. Men, expose yourselves!"
All over the class the men unveiled their work. Mason hesitated. "I should warn you, it's a nude."
"I'm not easily offended."
Mason revealed his painting and Helen gasped. The lovely young model had her bare back to the artist while she coyly glanced over her shoulder. She wore a come-hither smile that no man could resist. The painting was a brillant expression of passionate adoration. It was beautiful. It was sensual. It was JOAN.
TBC PLEASE REVIEW
Before anyone points it out, I freely admit to playing fast and loose with the timeline. The events in Spiral occur in the late autumn of '07, but I have set my story in the summer of 2005.