Earlier chapters

by Mike Schwarcz, text and art

Miguel wanted to denote the third of July his personal Independence Day. The final decision on that would come once the people at the breakfast buffet saw the show, and voted, yea, or nay. Miguel scanned the group, two guests wore the same clothes he had seen them in the night before. Others looked severely hung over. It was starting to feel like a command performance, most of them looked like they would rather be in bed.

When Jake Hanson's startled face, followed by the burning painting came on the screen and Good Morning America announcer introduced Miguel, everyone in the dining room clapped politely. On the TV, the street audience's positive reaction to his charcoal sketch of Amy at the end of the segment caused more applause and cheers; someone even whistled.
"Great job Miguel, I think we have a hit," declared Aisha as her phone rang.
Mary and George Goodman were standing behind him. He turned when Mary said, "You're a natural in front of the camera Miguel, that's a real asset in this business, exposure is everything, as I'm sure you're already aware".
"Something I learned from Bob Ross as a kid: stay relaxed." Miguel smiled.
"That was Matt's assistant at Good Morning America, she told me the numbers were great. The promos with Jake's chins really pulled the viewers. They plan to rerun the segments tomorrow also, and who knows after that." Aisha sounded giddy.

Refilling his coffee Miguel walked out on the veranda to enjoy the warmth of the sun before it became too hot. Cece and Sara joined him at the table, laughing out loud about something.
"What's so funny?" Miguel asked.
"Cece was telling me about a designer Rachel introduced her to last night. She was wearing plain black framed glasses encrusted in diamonds worth over six hundred thousand dollars. Can you believe that?" Sara marveled.
"What's funny is they were just plain ugly. You wouldn't give them a second look at a garage sale or thrift store, I'd say it takes some nerve calling it art." said Cece.
"Agreed!, Still planning on hanging by the pool today, Cece?" Sara wondered.

"Yeah, Rachel's fun, I'll catch some rays with her. She seems very wired into the art world, especially the Hamptons," said Cece.
"Enough of this, anyone up for a smoke before we head to the marina? We've gotta pick up the lunch basket and wine, also," Miguel said, getting up from the table.
"Why would you even ask us that?" Sara looked at Miguel with disgust.
"For the priceless look on your faces. I'm headed to the room to change and do a few other things," smiled Miguel.
"I'll wait here" said Sara, while Cece headed for the guest house.

"I wonder how sailing here compares to California," said Miguel as they walked down a floating dock. Looking for the boat and skipper.
"A man is waving a towel over there," Sara pointed to a wooden ketch with a man on deck waving a towel.
"Good eye, that's gotta be him" he said as he got closer. The man stepped onto the dock and held his hand out as they approached,
"Hi, I'm Eric," he said, offering Sara his hand on boarding. Miguel didn't need any help; he was equally at home on land or sea. Once on board, the diesel purring below deck sent vibrations traveling through the soles of his deck shoes that traveled straight to his heart. Eric asked him to pull in the fenders and slip the dock lines from their cleats as he cleared the dock and headed out into the marina basin.

In the rear pilot's cockpit, Miguel asked where they were headed; Eric pointed at an opening between two spits of land that constituted the marina entrance.
"Here, take the wheel and point us toward that gap, Miguel, I'll get the sails up, can kill the engine and we'll head out toward the Atlantic. It's going to be a gorgeous day," said Eric.
"Aye, captain," Miguel said as Sara got the forward cockpit comfortable with seat cushions, ice bucket, etc.
"You'll have your work cut out for you today, Eric. It's my job to see Miguel relax," said Sara, pulling Miguel away, toward the forward cockpit.
"Feel free, I've got it handled, been sailing these waters since I was a kid," said Eric.
"The boat's quick, and very responsive for her size. I like her," Miguel commented.
"Herreshoff was a genius when it came to boat design; she points as well as anything I've ever sailed," said Eric as he sheeted in the jib and she heeled a bit more.
"I'm sure we're going to enjoy the ride," Sara said as she took Miguel's hand and led him to the cozy nest she had created for herself in the center cockpit, away from Eric.
"I want you to relax today," she said, as the boat cut cleanly through the glassy water of the Sound. Miguel wondered why Sara was being so nice.

Cece and Rachel only nibbled at the lunch buffet, saving their appetites for the clambake later. They were now stretched out by the pool, soaking up the sun, and getting to know each other. A group of recently arrived guests had set up a day camp on the beach , engaging in a frenzy of frisbee tossing with two large dogs. Mary and George Goodman were hiding under the shade of an umbrella on the veranda with Aisha and Hayden Rookwood. Alissa and several other guests were lounging by the pool, drinks in hand. The general inaction suggested expending too much energy on a lazy day like today was unwise, and eventually even the frisbee-chasers abandoned the beach for a small patch of shade. The main event was tomorrow. The Fourth.

Hayden had ordered Rachel to the Hamptons as his diversion for the weekend. Aisha had warned him to avoid Cece and Miguel as much as possible, afraid his ego would give itself away.
"It's nice to relax a little; the past months have been a total whirlwind. This is my first tanning session in weeks," said Rachel.
"Here's to margaritas and sun, Cheers! Last night was fun too, celebrities and everything," said Cece.
"And meeting a fellow Southwesterner near my age, that never happens at events like these," Rachel noted.
"These Blue Blood Easterners have convinced me that poor country girls like us need to stick together," Cece joked.
"More true than you know," Rachel said solemnly.
"One thing's for sure: neither of us is like the people at this party. We may be with them this weekend, but we aren't of them," said Cece.
"Yeah, these people can afford to scratch whatever art itch they may acquire. Buy, sell, or collect on a whim, the number of zeros involved be damned. That takes some getting used to," said Rachel.
"Parading around a party in eyeglasses that cost more than some people earn in their entire life, simply because they can, that's sick in so many ways," Cece declared, suddenly emboldened to state her true opinion.
"So true. I feel the same way. I'm not from a wealthy family; we were barely middle class," Rachel confessed. "But here I am."
"The entire state of New Mexico is barely middle class," Cece wanted Rachel to feel comfortable.
"This business has taught me to be leery of old-money people. I wouldn't call them exactly welcoming, unless you have something they want. I prefer the nouveau riche; they're much more accepting," Rachel said.
So, how did you end up in the art world?"
"I was an art major at Long Beach State and befriended a few of the basketball players. One of those players in particular became a big star in the NBA," Rachel went on.
"Through him, I met a lot of other sports figures, and those connections led to actors, directors, and such.
"They say it's who you know, right? Especially in L.A.," Cece said.
"No question. There are plenty of rich, single guys anxious to get help filling their McMansions with appreciating art, without appreciating art. What they really appreciated was the chance at getting me in the sack," said Rachel, snickering.

What Rachel didn't tell Cece was that she was invited to this party, the terms of her debt. "So what's your story, Cece?" Rachel asked.

I come from a ranching family; my grandfather inherited the second-largest ranch in New Mexico before the turn of the 20th century. He sold off big chunks of it when the highway came through Santa Fe, but we still retain some pieces of the original ranch. My brother, who cares for my father, has a herd of horses on land we own south of town. I'm the black sheep in the family; I wanted to see the world, but most of my family has never been outside New Mexico. I decided to get my BFA in Chicago. I was so naive; I thought Chicago was back East. I found it is, but only if you're from New Mexico," Cece laughed.

"So you went back to Santa Fe after school?" Rachel seemed to want to stay focused on Cece.
"I worked in a gallery in Chicago for two years. I came back to Santa Fe when my dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer's. I worked at a small gallery until I had enough contacts to open my own location five years ago. With the help of a small trust fund that's rapidly diminishing, I might add," said Cece.
"Well, you know the old saying, ‘The best way to make a small fortune with art is to start with a large fortune, '" Rachel quipped.
"Funny, and true. But money isn't everything. If all you have is money, it's a given there will be a mile-long line of people with more knowledge about art than you, happy to relieve you of your money. The most valuable commodity in any business, especially art, is knowledge and information," said Cece.
"Truth"
"Knowing who owns what, who wants to sell what, and who wants to acquire what. That's more valuable than money. Connoisseurship of art and art history is the second greatest advantage over your competition," Cece said.
"Yeah, those priceless nuggets of information that allow you to land a six-figure or better deal," Rachel laughed.
"It's a good reason to show up for work, it's always possible," said Cece.
"I'll get us some refills, and when I get back, I'll tell you about the art world's Velvet Mafia," said Rachel, picking up Sara's glass and heading for the bar
"I'm going to jump in and cool off," said Cece, eager to avoid any more interest from Rachel. She felt she was a little too friendly.

Aboard the boat, Miguel and Sara had emptied the wine bottle. The wind was light, but steady, keeping the seas calm. Their eyelids were growing heavy in the sun. Eric kept the boat off the wind enough to maintain a relatively even keel, allowing for more effortless movement around the cockpit or nodding off. When Miguel and Sara awoke from the unexpected nap, they were headed back to the marina. The wind to their backs, being enveloped by nature, and the boat gliding silently through the water, evoked utter peace in Miguel.
"Take the helm while I drop the sails,"
"Gladly," said Miguel.
"Come on," he gestured to Sara to join him in the aft cockpit.
Miguel put one arm around Sara and held the helm with the other, "I could get used to this, again," he said.
"Like old times," said Sara. Miguel smiled and nodded as they headed back for the clambake, which was to start in an hour. Eric cranked up the diesel to ensure they were back in time.

Miguel and Sara took the long way back to the house, a walk along the beach. As they approached the party, they saw Cece's and Rachel's heads, wearing visors and sunglasses poking above the water. Resting on the pool edge, a tube of sunblock and two margaritas in plastic glasses.
"Can we join you?" Sara asked while Miguel pulled two chairs towards them.
"Sure, Rachel was filling me in on the fascinating history of artists in East Hampton," said Cece as they sat down.
"They all lived and/or worked here, Pollock, the de Koonings, Helen Frankenthaler, Robert Motherwell, Lee Krasner," said Cece.
"Warhol had a huge, five-house compound in Montauk, but he hated the Hamptons; the wind played havoc with his wigs, blowing them off more than once from what I've heard," said Rachel. They all laughed, savoring the image.
"A small taste of that lifestyle this weekend, can't say I'd have any complaints about the wind, or anything else," said Miguel.
"I'm starved. When does the clam bake start?" asked Sara.
"They were schlepping stuff down to the beach earlier," said Rachel.
"Yeah, they dug a big hole and loaded it with wood, I'd say it's under control. They're bringing tables and umbrellas now, should be soon," said Cece.

At five p.m. Miguel and Sara stepped out on the veranda to find the clam bake in full swing. After a day on the ocean, seafood sounded perfect to Miguel, but being part Spaniard, the drifting aroma of grilled meat pulled him to the BBQ station by the pool for some ribs first.
"Don't be a pig, Miguel," Sara nudged him with her elbow.
"Appetizers for the trip down to the beach," he said flatly.
"You're embarrassing," Sara chided.
"They're going to throw away more food tonight than I could eat in a week. Besides, gluttony is considered a compliment in these circles. Gout is a badge of honor," said Miguel.

Down the beach, about a hundred yards away, tiny waves lapping at their ankles, Rachel and Mr Rookwood were in deep conversation. Sara and Miguel joined Aisha, in the line for clam bake fixings.
The last clam bake I attended was in high school, four of us smoking four joints in a car with all four windows rolled up, Miguel recalled as he carried his overloaded plate to an empty seat, anxious to quell a bad case of seafood deficiency.
As they sat down beside Aisha, she asked them, "What did you think of her boat?"
"We both loved her," interjected Sara.
"She's great, and Eric was the best!" Miguel added..
"Eric used to crew on America's Cup boats when he was younger," said Aisha.
"How was your day?" Miguel asked Aisha.
"A little tennis this morning, otherwise relaxing and catching up on homework. "Tomorrow, Good Morning America will air our segments again. It looks like they're going to put your segment in rotation for the long weekend, yesterday's numbers were so good. Matt said everyone loved it," Aisha added.
"Another early night for me if I'm going to catch Good Morning America again," said Miguel.
"Today was only the warm-up, tomorrow's the main event, lots planned, lots of guests, lots of people to meet," said Aisha.
Drained by a day in the sun and a belly full of clam-bake goodness, Miguel and Sara, heading for bed at eight-thirty, passed Cece and Alissa at a table with two guys their age. They weren't talking about the party, they were talking about the Mitchell, Innes & Nash gallery closing. Miguel and Sara nodded good night as they passed.

Later chapters

Questionnaire on the story

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

Discover Lokkal: Mission

Visit SMA's Social Network

Contact / Contactar