The Fate of the Muse - By Derrolyn Anderson Page 0,19
walked Cruz back across the hall and I helped him move his things into the guest room, schlepping boxes and bags as Cruz gave Shayla more runway walking advice.
“I’m like, sposed to fly out to Paris next Sunday!” she jumped up and down, unable to contain her enthusiasm. Cruz started feeling sorry for himself again, but snapped out of it when he went back into his design studio, looking in awe at all his new equipment.
“I can’t believe I’m really here… living in the city, starting design school… It’s like a dream come true!”
Shayla and I hugged Cruz goodbye, and I was surprised to see my normally cynical cousin actually get a little choked up.
“Tell Mom I’ll be home Friday night,” he said, clearing his throat, “I promised to help her get set up for the rally on Saturday.”
“See you soon,” I said, kissing his cheek.
By the time we made it down to the garage Boris had already packed several boxes bursting with art supplies into the back of the Rover. Some large stretched canvases were wedged in on their sides, and my biggest easel nosed between the two front seats. I drove Shayla back to Aptos, listening as she excitedly filled me in on the details of her meeting with Jacques.
“He has an apartment in Paris set up just for beginning models like me! There’s chicks from Russia and Germany crashing there that have, like, mad runway skills. Jacques says they’ll help me with my walk if I help them learn English for when we go to New York– but none of us can talk French…”
I was amused, imagining Shayla taking on the role of teacher. Wonders never ceased.
She rubbed her hands together and threw her head back with a grin, “I’m psyched! It’s gonna be so totally rad!”
“You can fly out with me and Evie,” I said, strangely comforted by the thought of having her accompany me on my unpleasant task.
“That’s what Evie said… she has it all planned out. It’s like she already knew I was gonna get the job!”
“Yeah, she’s good that way,” I said wryly.
“Oh my God– what is Mom gonna say? She’s like totally never gonna believe it!”
I found myself beaming, feeding off the power of Shayla’s joy. Knowing I’d be there to see her walking in the shows took the edge off the dread I was feeling about my trip to Paris.
“What are you gonna do with all this stuff?” asked Shayla, looking behind her.
“I rented a place right over Bill’s coffeeshop,” I told her, “Once I get it cleaned up it’ll make a great art studio. Do you want to see it?”
“Hells yeah!” she cried, “I’m way too amped go home right now!”
I pulled onto the narrow lane that ran between the row of shops and restaurants and parked. In the fading light of dusk it had an eerie feeling, as if something was lurking in the shadows, coiled and ready to spring out from behind the giant metal dumpsters that lined the alley. We climbed out of the Rover, and Shayla looked up at the rusty stairs suspiciously while I fished the keys from my bag.
“This looks like a good place to get jumped,” she pointed out.
“Keep an open mind,” I said, climbing up the quaking staircase, “It just needs a little cleaning up. I opened the door and groped for the light switch, finally managing to turn on a tiny flickering light mounted on the far wall.
“Man!” exclaimed Shayla, “This shack is trashed!”
I had to agree. The dusty mess looked even more sinister in the low light, and we skirted our way around the junk, inspecting the vast room.
I picked up a flyer for a band called “Death Stick”, and smiled at the drawing of a skeleton surfing on a mushroom cloud, “Ever heard of these guys?” I asked Shayla.
She shook her head, “Naw, it looks kinda lame,” she bent over to pick up something, “Check this,” she said, holding up the neck of a guitar someone had done a fine job of smashing to smithereens against the wall.
Without warning, a flurry of feathers exploded from a corner and a frantic seagull began flying around the room, banging into the window panes, flapping on the floor and finally landing on the top of the low wall in the corner.
“It’s okay,” I said gently, approaching it slowly, “I’ll take you out of here.” I held out my arm and the bird climbed on, eyes bright with fear. I slowly walked it