ROYAL TOWERS ~ 8 ~ FRANKLIN & BRONSON

ARTIST BY MISTAKE

by Coral St. John

As he strolls into the musty coffee shop, he exudes an air of nonchalance. Dressed in dark jeans and a long-sleeve raglan with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He flashes me a smile revealing a perfect white set of teeth, fit for a billboard on Sunset. Caleb Rivers is effortlessly cool and a bit of a bad boy. At least that's what he wants you to think.

At an early age, he was put into the foster system, shuttled between homes until he reunited with his mother at age seventeen. Caleb has a checkered past as is usually the case with children from broken homes, but he says his troublesome ways came to a halt when he met a gentle-hearted blonde whom he refers to only as his Princess.

This Princess rescued him from the streets when he was breaking into high schools to get some uninterrupted sleep. He says she gave him the first home he has ever known and helped him get in touch with his mother. A few months later she managed to reunite him with his father as well.

While Caleb says he never got the happy nuclear family that every orphan dreams of, he has maintained a relationship with his parents and even moved to California to be closer to his mother and step-brothers. It makes you wonder how the boy who never had a home managed to become a staple in LA's art scene.

"It just kind of happened," Caleb explains. "I had just finished a construction job and there were some pieces of scrap metal in the warehouse. I had some time to kill so I grabbed my blowtorch and that was my first masterpiece."

There's an icy disposition in his voice when he says the word masterpiece but that's the only way to describe the four foot wrought iron sculpture depicting the silhouette of a woman. The piece is now permanently on display in Caleb's mother's living room but his other sculptures are available for sale at his studio in West Hollywood. But now we turn our attention back to the elusive Princess.

"She's amazing," Caleb gushes about her. "Probably the kindest person I will ever know. But headstrong, I never expected to win an argument against her. It's impossible."

He admits that even though she is still in his life, they are not together anymore. That doesn't stop him, however, from entertaining the notion of them becoming something more.

"I love that girl," he bites his lip as he says it, "but I screwed up. She deserves someone better. Someone who doesn't get into trouble and keep her lying awake at night worrying."

But is there any hope for the couple that once was?

"I don't think so," Caleb says with a solemn smile. "She's awesome now. Way cooler than I'll ever be and she has her life together. As much as I'd love to give it another go, she would do best not to fraternize with the likes of me."

My time with Caleb is done. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek before taking off and leaves me with a wealth on information to ponder over. Caleb isn't an artist in the way that most people are artistic or creative.

He grew into his art. After experiencing a lifetime of loss and disappointment, his feelings were manifested in the artwork he creates. It's organic and impulsive. He never intended to have a lucrative career as an artist, somehow it fell into his lap eliciting envy from artists everywhere.

Hanna dropped the article on the countertop. She had never expected to find Caleb again. Seeing him in her apartment building, right next door in a fifty floor building, it was fate. Suddenly every kiss, every smile, every moment she had shared with Caleb was now flooding back to her. She wanted him. She needed him. She grabbed her keys and ran out of her apartment. Then she banged her fist against Caleb's door. She heard footsteps and knew he was inside.

"Hey," he answered the door wearing just a pair of boxers.

"I miss you," she dropped the article at his feet. "Caleb, I..."

He smiled and wrapped an arm around her waist. Then his lips came crashing down on hers. Hanna pressed her fingers to his warm chest and traced the scar above his left rib cage. Then she pulled away.

"I've been waiting a long time for you to say that," he smiled.

Out of the corner of her eye Hanna caught sight of a woman in his apartment. It was Coral St. John strolling through the apartment in her stupid red-bottom stilettos wearing just her bra and a pencil skirt.

"Yeah," she scoffed, "waiting with bated breath I see."

"Hanna, wait!" he called out as she ran back to her apartment.

She locked herself in and collapsed against the door breathing heavily. It was too good to be true. Of course, Caleb might have said those words for an article, but he wasn't ready to be her boyfriend again, or maybe ever. Maybe their relationship was best left unfinished, the ghost of something that had ended too soon.

She was on the verge of tears when there was a tap at the door. She didn't answer, she couldn't even look at his face.

"Hanna!" he pounded against the door. "I'm sorry. I can explain."

Hanna didn't turn around. She was angry and hurt, but mostly just disappointed in herself for believing that there was still something there. Caleb's knocks slowed down as he gave up. Then there was a pause before he slid the article back under her door with a note attached.

Everything I said in there, it's true. I love you and I will do anything to prove it. I think you should hold onto this until you think I'm worthy again.

Beneath the note he had taped his key to her apartment. Hanna wiped her tears and grabbed the key. It was over. Then she looked at the discarded food and wine on her kitchen counter. She couldn't imagine that the Caleb who brought her dinner and a bottle of pinot was the same person who had just shared intimate details of their life with a woman he had just met and then proceeded to invite her back to his apartment. She didn't know what to believe; the words written on the pages in front of her or the scene she had witnessed with her own eyes.

Hanna sat at her desk impatiently tapping her pencil against her desk as she tried to come up with a plausible concept for her next article. It was proving troublesome as her thoughts kept wandering to the image of a topless Coral strutting through Caleb's apartment. Fortunately a knock on her cubicle nameplate managed to spark her back to life. It was Coral.

"Can we talk?" Coral asked.

"We don't have to," Hanna shook her head.

"Please," Coral begged. "What you saw, it's not what it seemed."

"It doesn't matter," Hanna replied.

"Look," Coral sat down in an empty chair. "Yes, I went over to his place under the pretext of getting another quote in the hope that maybe we would strike up a torrid love affair any maybe I'd be his next muse. Isn't that what every girl dreams about?"

"I think maybe you're oversharing a little," Hanna told her curtly.

"Sorry," Coral shook her head. "I'm just saying it's my fault. I went over there and spilled a drink on myself in a lame attempt at seducing him. I know, I get all my relationship advice from Clueless reruns so sue me. The point is, it didn't work. He's in love with you."

"Seriously Coral," Hanna protested. "It doesn't change anything between him and me."

"Just hear me out," Coral continued. "If I had known you were the mystery girl, I never would have gone over there. He spoke about you in a way that no man has ever talked about me. I admit, I wanted to feel just a fraction of that passion directed toward me. But it was wrong. He worships you, Hanna. You have to give him another chance."

"He's gotten plenty of chances," Hanna replied. "Caleb has a knack for telling everyone else how much he cares about me while I sit at home worrying about what trouble he's gotten into this time. I can't keep doing that forever. I just wish that everything he told you in that interview, he could say to my face."

"Here," Coral handed her a stack of notes. "It might not mean much, but you should have these. It's everything I didn't put in the article."

"Thanks," Hanna graciously accepted the papers.

"Again," Coral said before turning to leave, "I'm really sorry."

Hanna watched as her coworker returned to her office. Then grabbed the mismatched sheets of paper and dropped them in the bottom drawer of her desk before locking it and shoving the key in her pencil cup.