Let me show you that painting
"Well, I did it," said Tim Wallace from his usual spot at the table at Marty's. Lyra Price and Kelly Forbes sat across from him in their usual spots. The three of them had been friends for about two and a half years, ever since Tim took a position as Art Director for Branson Tanner, a Seattle marketing agency.
Marty's was a bar around the corner from their workplace that had become their usual meeting spot. They often met to talk, have a few drinks and plan workplace pranks. It was Friday again, and, as usual, the Seattle rain poured down outside the windows.
"You did what?" asked Lyra, a thick black woman, roughly Tim's age of 32 years.
"I'll give you a hint," Tim replied. "'I quintuple dare you.'"
Kelly Forbes had made the quintuple dare in question. She was the other woman who sat across from Tim. Tim had developed feelings for the pretty blonde over the course of their friendship. This was a fact that hadn't come to light until after Kelly married someone else. That revelation, combined with the discovery that Kelly's husband had cheated on her only weeks after their marriage, led to a one-night stand between the two.
They agreed, afterwards, that it could never happen again and they needed to try to continue on as friends. It seemed they had been successful in that regard, spending time a friends, planning pranks and joking around. In fact, Kelly's 'I quintuple dare you' was in reference to Tim sleeping with someone else.
"I dare you to fuck Jeanie," Kelly had said. She was talking about Jeannie Novaczek, a punky, blue-mohawked, tattooed designer from the agency whom Kelly often pranked. Tim hadn't been sure at the time if Kelly was joking until several weeks later in the same bar, when Kelly and Lyra seemed to be checking on his progress.
It had been another couple of weeks since then, and it was time to cash in on the dare.
"Shut up," said Lyra, incredulously. "You did it?"
Kelly set her beer down and her mouth dropped open. "Jeannie?" she asked. "You fucked Jeannie?"
Tim nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I fucked her hard."
There was an unexpected silence from the other side of the table. Tim became suddenly self-conscious. "Is that... okay?" he continued.
"Yeah," Kelly waved her hand at him. "Yeah, of course. Good job, Tim," she said, with a smile he knew wasn't genuine.
Lyra's eyes darted between Kelly and Tim. "So, you've made good on the dare," she said. "You know what that means."
He did. Usually when one of them accomplished what had been dared, that person got to make the next dare.
"Yeah," he said. "I... I don't have a dare ready, so."
"Oh, come on, Tim," Lyra prodded. "Give Kelly a good dare."
"I don't really..." Tim trailed off.
"Tim," Lyra smiled. "It's the rule."
"Okay," Tim said. "I guess... I dare you to switch Sergei's office phone with David's."
Kelly didn't laugh. "Yeah," she said as her eyes began to water. "Yeah, because that's the same thing. Excuse me."
She stood and walked briskly toward the door.
Lyra's head sank. "I'm sorry, Tim," she said. "I shouldn't have pushed."
"It's okay," Tim spoke, a lump in his throat.
"Go," Lyra motioned. "Go after her. You need to settle this."
"Thanks, Lyra," he said. "I can always count on you."
Tim walked to the door and opened it to find Kelly standing under the awning fidgeting with her umbrella. "Kelly," he said. "I'm sorry."
Kelly set the end of the umbrella on the ground. "No," she said. "I'm sorry. I'm being pretty unfair. I gave you that fucking dare."
"I should have known you'd be upset," he countered.
"I have no right to be," Kelly said.
It was hard to argue with that. Tim would be stupid to try. "I understand," he said.
Kelly dropped the umbrella, rushed at him and kissed him tenderly. "I don't know how to fucking deal with this," she whispered.
"You said it yourself," Tim responded. "It can never happen again."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "No, it can't." She grabbed her umbrella and jogged off into the rain.
Tim wanted desperately to chase her, to go after his friend, wrap his arms around her, kiss her and be with her the way he had that one time. He wanted to, but he couldn't. He shouldn't. It would be selfish for him to do so.
He slowly walked back into the bar and sat down across from Lyra.
"Intense," she said. "Is Kelly okay?"
"I hope so," Tim replied, "but I have the feeling I just lost a good friend."
Lyra's hand slipped over his. "I'm so sorry, Tim," she said. "Let me buy your next round and you can talk about it as long as you like."
Tim smiled. "Thanks Lyra, but I'm going to be late as it is."
"Late for what?" she asked.
Tim rolled his eyes. "Me and a few of the designers are supposed to go to Marion Tanner's house for dinner tonight."
"Suck-up to the big boss?" Lyra inquired.
Tim nodded his confirmation. "I already said I'd go. It would look bad if I ditched."
"Better go, then," said Lyra. "Try to enjoy yourself. Try to keep your mind off Kelly."
"I'll try."
"And I'm sorry. I kind of pushed you into going through with that dare with Jeannie."
"It's not your fault, Lyra. It was my decision. Okay, I have to run, but I'll talk to you Monday."
"Just remember, Tim," she said. "You needed to get her out of your head. That's why you slept with Jeannie. You still need to get her out of your head for your own good, and for hers."
Tim nodded.
Lyra hugged him goodbye and Tim headed out to his car. He flipped through radio stations as he tried to put the evening's events behind him. After a half-hour drive, Tim arrived at Marion Tanner's house.
Marion greeted him at the door and invited him in. Marion Tanner was the co-founder of the agency. She was a striking woman in her mid fifties, with blue eyes and brown hair with streaks of gray. She was surprisingly cordial considering that Tim was about an hour late to the party.
David, Phillip, Sergei, Samantha, and Jeannie were already finishing up their dinners. Each one was a different creative type, with differing looks and styles.
Jeannie Novaczek had a pierced eyebrow and a party-girl body. Her hair was dyed the same blue as her eyes, shaved on the sides into a sort of wide Mohawk. He couldn't help but remember what she looked like naked, her ornate tattoos covering her pearly skin.
Sergei Sidelnykov was a fifty-something Creative Director. He had thick, horn-rimmed glasses, slicked blonde hair and a very European wardrobe.
Phillip Bartolomeo was a young, portly, red-haired metrosexual designer who lived to talk about indie music.
Samantha Wengler was a homely sort, a fellow Art Director of indeterminate age, with a bob haircut, out of fashion glasses and the most plain-jane type of apparel hanging on her stick-figure frame.
David Kendall was one of the Associate Creative Directors, a handsome man of about forty years. He had dark-brown hair and knew how to pull off the business-casual look, a blazer over a t-shirt and jeans.
Marion offered Tim some food. He accepted, but just picked a few items to carry on a small plate as he followed the group of artists to the kitchen for an after-dinner glass of wine. Marion had most likely been drinking for a while. She seemed more relaxed than he normally saw her when she was in the office, as rare as that event was.
When she was in the office, she tended to dress well, a professional look. It was a change of pace to see her in her home environment wearing a pair of jeans, no shoes and an un-tucked, white, button-down shirt.
Samantha Wengler stood, holding a glass of wine and not saying whole lot. Jeannie Novaczek pretty much watched the clock the entire evening, looking for the right time to bow out. Sergei dominated the conversation, seeking opportunities to name drop and mention the great thinks he'd seen or done. Phillip nodded and commented sycophantically to everything Sergei said. David and Marion had decided to ignore Sergei's filibuster and were gradually turning side comments into a completely separate conversation.
This left Tim caught between two conversations. One that he couldn't really hear and one that he didn't want to hear.
David motioned to Tim. "Hey, you did that stuff for Dynacorp, right?"
Tim seized the opportunity and stepped over to where David and Marion were standing. "Yeah, about a month ago," he replied.
"It's fantastic," said Marion. "You did that? It's terrific work."
"Thanks," said Tim. "It had its share of challenges, but it turned out pretty well."
"Tim's one of the best Art Directors we have," said David.
"Thanks Dave," Tim replied.
"You know what the art reminds me of?" said Marion, in her smooth English accent. "It reminds me of Preston Silver."
"Is that an artist?" asked Tim.
"Oh, yes," she answered, "one of my favorites. I have one of his paintings. I can show it to you later, if you like."
"Sounds great," Tim smiled.
"I think you'll like it, Tim," said David. "You're in for a treat." He gave Marion a quick wink, a curious gesture, Tim thought. "Well, I ought to be heading home," David concluded.
"Thanks for being here, and good luck in the new job," said Marion, giving him a quick hug. David waved at the rest of the guests, including Sergei, who didn't stop talking long enough to notice. Then he stepped out the front door.
"New job?" asked Tim.
"Oh, I thought you knew," said Marion. "David accepted a job as Creative Director for Hemisphere."
"Oh, wow," Tim exclaimed. "I didn't know that."
