Bonding Over Bad Art (II)
With the remains of their meal bundled up into the burger wrappers and forgotten on the tray, Tom patted his full belly and said, "I never realized that greasy food and bad art went together. I should do this more often."
Across from him, Claire laughed at the teen's words, "Inspiration can be found anywhere, you just have to go hunting for it. That's all."
Tom smiled a bit wistfully, he had heard something similar not all that long ago.
From a girl that he was pretty sure had been a recent student of Defoe's.
But Tom shoved that thought aside and replied, "So care to fill me in on what your project is going to look like?"
Claire shook her head, "I can't, because I haven't made it yet. You see how I make art is through what I call 'preparation for spontaneity'."
Unlike so many others, Tom instantly got the gist of what she was saying.
"So you set yourself up in advance for a period of random creativity and accept the results as is?"
Claire was beaming as she nodded yes, glad that she had met someone that really understood what she was about.
"Plus he is easy on the eyes." a little voice whispered to her.
Claire did her best to ignore it, she really did.
After all, even if Tom was 'of age', he was decades younger.
It wasn't right to think of a teenager like that.
Right?
After leaving Cluster Burger, Claire had to accept another ride from Tom Sloane, since the nearest bus stop was several blocks away, and the bus itself wouldn't arrive for two hours.
When she had gone to the museum everything had been planned out, she had gone by bus, then would take pictures for two hours, then take the 5:30 bus back into Lawndale proper and walk the rest of the way home.
"Even with an increase in salary I still can't afford a car." Claire thought sadly as she got into the passenger side.
Defoe informed Sloane of her address and on the way they continued to talk.
She found out that, yes, he was one of those Sloanes, though he clearly didn't use their money beyond what he absolutely had to.
The car he was driving was a wreck away from being a clunker.
In turn, Tom learned that, yes, she was the art teacher at Lawndale High.
The one that his exes had had a very high opinion of.
But before he could lose himself in the past, Tom's car pulled up in front of Defoe's apartment complex.
Before Claire could get out of the car however, he slipped her a card with his name and number on it.
She took it with a smile and began to open the door, but paused with a glance out of the window.
"What's wrong?" Tom asked as her face fell.
"One of my roommates is outside." Claire replied and pointed at the long-haired, long in the tooth, holdover from the sixties.
"I take it as a bad sign?" Tom asked even as the guy waved them over, a joint dangling from his lips.
Claire just nodded and got out of the car, curious Tom followed in her wake.
The man drawled, "Heeeyyy, you can't goooo up, we're in sexxx-zile."
Claire just sighed.
Tom scratched his head.
"Sex-exile is when my other two roommates decide to drop acid and have loud, non-stop sex." Claire explained flatly.
Tom began to chuckle, but stopped when he realized she was being serious.
"So..." Tom began to asked, "Where do you go from here?"
Claire sighed, thinking about couch surfing at one of her colleague's places with a cringe.
Tom mused for half a second before saying, "You can crash with me tonight."
Before Defoe could begin to voice her objects, Tom said with a surprising level of authority.
"I insist."
It would take Claire Defoe a while to figure out that, whatever his rebellion, Tom Sloane was very much his father's son.
He was a born and bred leader of men.
About half an hour later, Claire Defoe found herself in one of the biggest bedrooms she had ever seen.
"It's the most expensive one for sure." she thought to herself as she surveyed Tom Sloane's bedroom.
Which in truth was more like an apartment within Sloane Manor.
The largest of the rooms had Tom's bed in it of course, along with enough gizmos and gadgets to last a lifetime.
There was a large bathroom, with a marble tub that bordered on a small pool.
"He even has a sitting room." Claire thought with bemusement as Tom showed her said sitting room.
He then pointed at another door and informed her that it led to one of the guest bedrooms.
When Claire raised an eyebrow at the implications, Tom turned quite sheepish.
"My Dad installed it on my fourteenth birthday behind my mother's back," He explained with a hint of red, "And yes it was for the obvious reasons. But I've never used it before."
Claire chuckled, "I don't think helping out starving art teachers was what your Father had in mind."
"No, he did not."
There was a moment of silence before they both laughed, hard.
While Claire got herself settled for the night, Tom Sloane was in the sitting room, but he was pacing instead of sitting.
His thoughts were filled with visions of her hair, her eyes, her scent.
Her face...
In that moment, Tom Sloane decided that, if nothing else, he would help Defoe in any way he could.
"She deserves better than what she's got." Tom thought to himself firmly.
For some reason he wondered if there were any openings for an art teacher in a High School within driving distance of Bromwell.