Read chapter one

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

The day after his opening, Miguel shot out of bed and raced downstairs, his focus on the morning news. On his way into the kitchen, he jammed his toe into the corner of the island. He cursed the pain, now fully awake. He got the coffee brewing before he tuned the TV to KOAT. As he stood watching, Sarah came downstairs, went straight to the TV, and turned it off.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Miguel shot her dagger eyes.
"Really, TV in the morning? You know I don't like that," she said, reaching for the coffee pot.
"Don't you want to see if my show opening made the news?"
"Hon, don't get your hopes up, really. It's already yesterday's news." Sarah poured a cup of coffee.
"That's how you really feel? C'mon, Sarah!"

Miguel dropped his head and ran his hands through his hair, a sure sign he was getting frustrated. This was the Sarah he liked the least — completely self-centered and inconsiderate. Largely insufferable.

"Honey, look, It was a lot of fun. Made us some money too. But the show ends on Memorial Day, and then it'll all be forgotten.
"So, as far as you're concerned, it's back to doing art fairs and craft shows? Thanks for the support and vote of confidence, jeeze."

Miguel's phone rang. "Hello?"
"It's Ron, you might want to turn on the TV, you're on KOB."
"Thanks, I'll call you back," Miguel turned on the TV again.
"I'm on KOB," he said, giving Sarah a dirty look while clicking to the channel.

The television showed several paintings burning, and the shocked look on Jake Hanson's face. The announcer focused on Jake's wiggling chins, finding them hilarious. There was no mention of Miguel's name, his exhibition, or the gallery where it was held.

"See, not a word about you, or your art."
"You sound glad." Miguel felt his chest tighten.
"Did you think you were going to make a splash beyond one night?" Sarah asked.

Miguel sighed, went out onto the patio, and called Ron back.
"What are you doing today?" he asked, desperate enough to accept a goat roping as a good reason to get out for the day.
"Going to the Railyard. It's Saturday. You?"
"I need to get out for a while," Miguel said.
"Come on by, let's celebrate your fire sale."

No further encouragement needed, Miguel quickly dressed, gathered his stash, and headed for the door.
"See ya later. Thanks for spoiling my day." He made a point of slamming the door to the condo on his way out.

Over more coffee at Ron's, Miguel asked if he had seen any more coverage of his event.
"Of the two stories that aired, one mentioned your name," Ron said.
"Sarah seemed delighted they didn't mention me on the segment we caught."
"Really? What you pulled off required a lot of planning. And a lot of balls, I might add. She should be proud; you got everyone's attention. Not easy to do," Ron said.
"Well, Sarah's not exactly rooting for my success," Miguel added.
"I'm sorry to hear that. How so?"
"It's obvious. Sarah likes the status quo. She's discovered she likes control. There's no incentive for her to change anything." Miguel started loading his pipe with weed.

"So, how many were sold last night?" Ron asked, steering clear of the marital disharmony.
"Last count, thirteen out of twenty-five. I'm supposed to bring fresh ones later today. I'll get the final numbers then," Miguel said, starting to feel better.
"Let's go stroll the Railyard, and see if anyone recognizes you, it might cheer you up. What do you say?"
"Sure. I could use a bite to eat. I'll bring a pen, someone may ask for an autograph," Miguel added sarcastically.
"Okay, let's go mingle with the common folk," Ron said.

Riding in Ron's Lexus was an alien environment for Miguel. In his years living at the beach, with its chronic parking problems, he had become accustomed to biking or walking. In Santa Fe, he walked or took Uber everywhere he needed to go, a habit that also kept him fit. He often said the last thing he wanted was a car.

"Last night was a blast. I haven't had so many laughs since my last divorce. The look on that guy's face when you lit the first painting —priceless. Reminded me of when my ex found out she wasn't going to get any alimony," Ron chuckled.
"I'll be the broke one if Sarah decides to dump me. Everything is upside down right now; she's the breadwinner. I'm just a starving artist. I only hope she forgives my attempts at success before she divorces me," Miguel said, knowing Ron appreciated good sarcasm.
"How was she when you were in the chips, back in California?"
"She was happy, and we both loved it there. I was content, and we had a mostly peaceful truce for almost thirty years. Not so much now."
"So, tough cookies for her; she's here now," said Ron.
"Yeah, and it was like pulling teeth, making that happen."

It was already late morning once they had parked, and the farmer's market at the Railyard was quickly getting crowded. As they visited the various stalls, Ron innocently asked each vendor about the crazy artist and if they had seen the news story about the guy who set his paintings on fire. He got blank stares as answers.

"This is embarrassing," Miguel said, mostly absorbed with the endless variety of chili peppers one could purchase.
"With three hundred galleries, it's easy to miss something. This whole town is teetering on the brink of artistic overload," Ron remarked.
Miguel took a cafe chair and sat down at a table. "Let's eat. Humble pie, maybe."
"I don't see humble pie on the menu, but I hear the crow here is excellent." Ron waved for a waitress.

Studying the menu, Miguel got a slight tug on his sleeve and turned to see a girl of about twelve holding a phone up for him to view. On the screen was Jake's face, then Miguel came on, lighting some paintings on fire.
"Is that you?" the girl asked.
"That's me. Where did you find it, on the internet?" Miguel asked.
"My friend sent it to me this morning. He shared it with our whole art class."
"Well, don't sell your art for NFTs," Miguel admonished the little girl as she ran off.

"See, you're a hit with the tweens," Ron said, relieved that someone had finally recognized him.
"After we eat, I should gather up some paintings for Cece to fill in the sold slots. I'll let you drive if you want to join me," Miguel smiled.
"Mighty big of you, considering you don't have a car," Ron said.

As Ron paid the bill, Miguel dialed the gallery and asked Sean how many paintings he should bring.
"Ten more ought to be good for a while," Sean said,
"When will Cece be back?" Miguel asked. "Any minute, she's at lunch." "Okay, I'll be there in thirty minutes," Miguel said.
"We'll be here," Sean signed off.

At Miguel's condo they loaded fresh paintings and headed to the gallery. Cece's office door was open, and Miguel unceremoniously dropped the stack of paintings on her desk.

"Hi Cece, here's the next batch, as promised," Miguel said, sitting down.
"Hi Miguel, who's your friend?" Cece asked.
"This is Ron Hayden. Sorry if you two didn't get a chance to meet last night," Miguel apologized.
"Hello, Cece," Ron said.
"Hello, Ron," Cece said, gesturing for Ron to sit.
"So, what's the latest?" Miguel asked.
"As crazy as last night was, today has been even crazier. The phone won't stop ringing," Cece smiled. "How many did you bring now?" she asked.
"I brought ten, and I have more in the studio, so don't worry," Miguel said.
"Great, Sean can hang these today. I'm getting calls from all over the country, lots of interest, mostly from Internet exposure," Cece explained.
"We were just at the Railyard strolling around, and one young girl of about twelve recognized Miguel. Someone had shared it with her art class," Ron said.
"Miguel, I want to let you know, I'm going to raise prices by twenty percent and extend the show until mid-June," Cece said. She was impressed with what Miguel had pulled off, and she planned to ride it for all it was worth.
"No problem. Let's keep the paintings scarce and expensive; demand will follow. At least that's my theory," Miguel said.

While Cece and Miguel talked business, Ron pulled out his phone.
"For "man lights art on fire" on Instagram, I'm getting over eighty videos, the top one has 30k views. For "artist burns work," it's like twice that. And that's just Instagram. You're pushing this stuff out on the gallery's social media, also, right?" Ron asked.
"As hard as I can, but who knows how long we can keep it alive?"
"That's the challenge, isn't it?" Ron remarked.
"What does Sarah have to say?" Cece asked, and Miguel winced.
"Her prediction is it's all over by Monday, then it's back to the craft shows for me." Miguel stared vacantly into space.
"Don't pay any attention to her, I'm going to work this for all it's worth," Cece reassured him.

Ron dropped Miguel at home after they left the gallery, but had no desire to go in. Getting between Miguel and Sarah could only be hazardous to his health. But Miguel had no choice.
"I'm home."

The silence confirmed Sarah was still out. He grabbed a beer and sat on the back patio, catching the last of the sunset while reflecting on Cece's decisions to raise prices and extend his show. He knew he'd been a little demanding with Cece and she had accommodated him when she had no obligation to. It wasn't as if Sarah and Cece were best friends; they were more acquaintances than anything. He also recognized that Cece had sales skills he lacked, and she had now proven she didn't wilt under pressure. He had a newfound respect for her, a gallery owner he could trust. Rare. He wanted to find a way to let her know he appreciated her.

With Sarah, it was the same old frustration. She had opinions about every aspect of the exhibit and wasn't shy about pushing them. He blamed himself, letting her get too involved was his mistake. Of course, once he started ignoring her suggestions, and the show became a success, that upset her. Now, she was sulking, hoping the attention on Miguel would fade quickly, before it went to Miguel's head.

Eight p.m. and she still wasn't home. Miguel dug in the freezer and found a lasagna to pop in the oven. Opening another beer, he went to check Internet traffic on "Miguel Angelo," and "artist burns art," using Sarah's computer. He was shocked to see the numbers were now double what Ron had pulled up in Cece's office.

The oven timer went off at 9:30, and the balmy weather convinced Miguel to eat on the patio. As he was taking his last bite, the front door opened and shut quietly. He caught Sarah as she was on her way up the stairs.

"What's with you? Why are you ignoring me?" Miguel asked.
"I'm so busy, showing and listing appointments, and guess what? They want me involved in planning a charity fashion show at work. That should be fun," she said.
"That's nice, you can find time for all that, but not for me?" Miguel was curt, facing her with his hands on his hips. When she tried to go around him, he blocked her.
"Answer me, don't play dumb, you know exactly what you're doing."
"What's that?"
"Pouting because you didn't get your way. You hate that the show is a success. It's so obvious. You actually hate that I may get ahead again." Miguel waited.
Sarah said nothing.
"You know this whole thing looks like it's going viral. Cece's getting calls from all over the country. And you don't have a good thing to say about any of it. Maybe I shouldn't be surprised." Miguel was getting worked up enough to realize he had better go to bed before he became too wound up to sleep.

He awoke alone in bed the next morning. She was lightly tapping on the closed door.
"Don't wait up, I'll be home late."

**************

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