Chapter 2

" Arrgh."  I groan as I tear another piece of parchment paper off the easel, crumple it and throw it across the room, in the general direction of the waste basket.

" Missed.". Rahman says coming in with a small jug of iced tea and a glass.

" I don't understand." He says dropping his load on the table.

" How it can be so hard for you to make a new painty, after all, all you do is dip your brush in paint and spray the paint all over  your paper."

He finishes.

I glare at him.

" I don't expect a barbarian like you to understand some thing as cosmopolitan as abstract art. The sophisticated members of society are the only ones who can understand and appreciate the beauty of abstract art."

"I admire your bravado." He says with a smirk. "It's quite daring of you, to call splashes of color art."

I swat him in the arm.

" You're such a barbarian." I tell him, as I pour myself some iced tea.

" At least I'm not deluding myself into thinking  I'm an artist." He quips.

I pick up a brush from the open box on the table and throw it at his head.

He ducks and it hits the wall, adding a new layer of neon pink splattering to the warm beige walls.

" Look what you've done to mum's new walls, you had better get ready to help her repaint." I say as I stalk across the room to pick up the brush.

" Me? What did I do?" He lays a hand over his chest. " You are the one who threw the brush at me."

" Because you were needling me." I snap at him.

" I honestly can not understand."  A soft voice calls from the door way.

" How you too have managed to remain friends for so long." 

Sanjil finishes in his soft voice, coming in with a small plate of sugar cookies.

" I tell you  it's been an ordeal, not to strangle him." I say.

" Did you make that?" I continue, pointing at the plate of cookies. Sanjil made the most amazing cookies.

He was a wizard in the kitchen.

" Yes." He hands me the plate.

" Justin wanted to learn baking, because chole told him she thinks men that can bake are sooooo hot."

" He's a pest." I say stuffing a whole cookie into my mouth.

" He takes after his big sister " Rahman says slyly.

I scowl at him.

" I'm sorry he bothered you." I tell sanjil.

" It was no bother." He shrugs off my thanks.

" He's a delightful kid." He continues.

" And besides I like talking to your mother, she always has a lot of interesting stories. It's quite entertaining to listen to all the dirty details of all the rich and mighty people of Beverly hills."

" You know for some one who has his heart set on becoming one of Los Angeles' finest.  You sure do listen to a lot of gossip." I tell him, pouring myself a new glass of iced tea.

" I'm certain my career in the LAPD would move faster if I had one of California's mightiest people beholden to me, for not revealing his or her dirty secrets." He says with a wink.

I snort and nearly choke on the sip of iced. tea, I just took.

" Was there a mini hurricane or some thing in here." He asks, nodding at the crumpled bits of parchment paper covering the floor.

" She can't seem to make up her mind about what colors she wants to splash around with." Rahman says his position in front of the window.

He's looking at God knows what in the back yard.

It's not like there is any there, except an old gnarled tree.

" Can you please stop calling my art, splashes of color. Show some respect." I say in my best icy voice.

" But that's exactly what it is." He says.

"  Just You wait, I bet you'll stop thinking of it as splashes of color when it makes her a millionaire." Sanjil says.

" Ohh puhleease." Rahman says with a roll of his eyes.

" That I'll have to wait and see "

 " Don't sound so smug. The carnitas museum in Washington sold a little pair of abstract paintings for six hundred and forty five thousand dollars last week." Sanjil informed him primly.

" What!!! Have the rich gone mad? What sort of way is that to spend money? " Rahman asks, shaking his head.

"I assure you, they know exactly what they are doing, in the right circles, abstract art is really appreciated." Sanjil announces.

" Thank you." I tell him with a smile.

" I'll be sure to mention you in appreciation during my speech, when I get a showing at the carnitas museum."

" You will not be mentioned." I tell Rahman.

"  I'm glad to hear that." He replies.

" One thing I can't understand though." Sanjil says after a pause.

" What is it?" I ask, popping the last cookie into my mouth and dusting my hands.

" Why do you paint on parchment paper? I have wanted to ask you that since the first time I saw your work." 

" Because she's crazy." Rahman announces, moving from the window to come across the room and help himself to my iced tea.

I scowl at him and poke him in the ribs.

" He may be closer to the  thruth than he realizes."  I tell sanjil with a smile.

" All artists seem to be crazy to some extent, it shows in different ways.

Some cut off their ears, some turn into hermits.  And some, like yours truly." I motion at myself.

" Choose to show case their art through irregular and unconventional mediums."

Rahman snorts.

" Codswallop." He announces.

" She paints on parchment paper, because that's what she learned to paint on." He finishes.

Sanjil archs a brow at me.

I smile sweetly.

" Or it  might be some thing as simple as the fact that my first paintings were made on parchment paper with  jelly and food coloring, while eating oatmeal cookies and milk."