A Painted Man

I have painted Renior, De Kooning, Picasso and many others. Not Pollock however, for obvious reasons. Always using the same oil paints and canvas as the greats, well as close as I can get. If the painting is done on wood, then I paint on wood, same with linen, or silk it all depends. My clients want the closest they can get to the original. No, I can not be found on the internet, you will not see a business card with my face on it. You will only know me at parties, or through a friend of a friend, this is how I get my business. You do not contact me. If I am interested, I will ask for your information and I give you a routing number to send funds through. Always half up front, then the rest when they pick it up. Normally in a location of my preference. Only serious buyers shall apply.

One evening at a particularly dull dinner party, I was starting to make my way out hoping to catch the end of a local jazz group I just heard about. I was stopped by a heavily jeweled hand wrapped around my arm, attached to a woman wearing a dress that was reminiscent of the twenties.

“You can’t leave now!” she exclaimed “I was just telling my husband about the painting you did for my friend. The ‘Monet’ one? It was gorgeous, I could not tell the difference! How did you find a similar frame?”

I laughed “I carved it myself, it took longer than the actual painting.” She dragged me over to her husband who was standing by the fireplace, sipping his drink and very focused on the flame.

“Honey! This is the man I was telling you about, the one that painted Audrey’s ‘Monet’, he is very good. I want him to do a painting for our house.” she tugged on his arm like a child wanting something.

Please do not say ‘Girl with the Pearl Earring’ I thought to myself.

“I really like the one with the earring.” she gleamed. I could have groaned out loud but I just smiled, I’m going to charge extra.

Her husband stood up a little taller and straightened his shirt. “How long will it take you?”

I was surprised. Normally get asked how much it’s going to cost first. I recreated this painting many times, I could possibly do it while my eyes were closed.

“Close to two weeks, it takes a while for the oil paints to dry. If you would like to commission me I require fifty percent down.” I took out my black notebook and pen from my chest pocket in my coat and wrote down a figure on the paper, folded it then handed it to him. He looked at it and made a questionable face.

“You must be good.” He nodded, but I could sense his doubt. He seemed seasoned with combating every purchase whim his wife made. She looked at him pleadingly, I could tell she did not know much about art but wanted a painting to show off.

“Come, let me show you the Durer I painted for our host.” I walked through the hallway into the parlor where it hung. He inspected it very oddly. Switching angles and staring at it almost piercingly even lightly touching the varnish.

“Very nice work. I will think about it.” He shook my hand and turned back to his wife. This is not the first time I have been rejected, maybe I asked for a little too much. I turned towards the bathroom to freshen up before leaving, when I came out I noticed the Durer was gone. Then I located my previous client.

“Jessica, I hate to do this but I have to go.” I leaned in and pecked her on both her cheeks “What happened to my Durer? It was just there.” I pointed down the hall.

“Oh, Marcy and her husband asked to borrow it, silly things. They wanted to see how it would flow with the rest of their paintings. Don’t worry! I trust them. Marcy’s husband works for the FBI for pete’s sake.” The group she was talking to laughed, obviously feeling their drinks. I waved bye, and left.

The next night there was a new art gallery downtown. Very up and coming. Anyone who was anyone was going to be there. Putting on my freshly tailored suit paired with one of my more flashy printed shirts, I gave myself a look over in the mirror then the phone rang. I wasn’t expecting anyone to call, only a few people knew how to reach me, and my mother never called during the weekend. I picked up the phone “Hello?”

“Mr. Tamund. You are a hard man to find.” It was a man’s voice that I didn’t recognize. I paused thinking if I should act like this was the wrong number.

“Mr. Tamund I know you don’t like to be contacted much, so I’ll keep this short. I would like to meet. Do you have any plans tonight?” he paused, he knew I was listening.

“How did you get my number?” thinking of a list of people who would have betrayed me.

“Mr. Tamund, I understand you are a busy man, I can meet you any place that you choose.” he responded, obviously he was not going to take no for an answer.

I let out a breath that I was holding in, “Fine. Meet me Downtown at ‘The Fronz’ in one hour.” It seemed like a good place with lots of witnesses.

“One hour, I’ll be there.” he hung up. I looked at the phone shocked.

I arrived early and parked on the opposite side of the street and watched who was going inside. When the crowd started to trickle in I saw all the usual people, and some new faces. Only one man looked out of the ordinary, wearing a suit that was very white collar. I wanted to leave as soon as I entered the whole gallery was a distasteful affront to the eyes, the younger crowd eating it up, there was no skill involved in these pieces at all. Stopping in front of a piece called “The Womb” closest to the door, in case the need to escape arose, I tried to figure it out by turning my head this way and that while waiting for my mysterious date. The man wearing the white collar suit stood beside me staring at the piece also, I glanced over to him acknowledging his presence.

He broke the silence. “I don’t understand this one. Personally I like older traditional art, like ‘The Girl with the Pearl Earring’.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and I turned towards him. It was the man I met at the dinner party. Turning back to the sculpture I huffed, annoyed at the way he contacted me. Surely Jessica told him how I intake my clients.

“The price still stands. Mister…?” I realized I did not know his last name. I paused waiting for him to give it, but he didn’t. He reached in his pocket and held a piece of paper in his hands. "I was very impressed with your Durer.” He looked around then handed it to me. There was a list for three paintings. Thankfully the pearl earring wasn't on the list.

“How long will it take?”

I took a second to think about it. One was going to be difficult to make the right lapis shade and two others I think I already had the supplies for, I would just have to do some research to make sure.

“Five to six weeks”. I pulled out my note book again and wrote another price, I added a fee since he abstracted from my normal process and handed it to him. He gave it a quick glance. He held up his finger for me to wait a minute then took out his phone and stepped away to make a call. I turned back to sculpture to give him some privacy. His phone snapped shut.

“Is there any way you can finish these sooner?” he asked.

“If you want it sooner you can order prints at the museums.” I commented back, I didn’t mean to be so snappy, but I took it as an insult to my craft and the edgy music in the background was starting to give me a headache.

He pinched his fingers between his eyes trying to figure something out then looked up at me. “Fine. Five to six weeks.” and held out his hand to shake on it. I pulled out a slip of paper from my notebook’s pocket with my bank routing number and slipped it in his hand while we shook.

“I’ll get started as soon as the down payment is in my account.”

I left the gallery feeling uneasy with the exchange I shook it off I drove back to my loft apartment. The next morning the deposit was in my account and I put on my favorite playlist and got started. I worked night and day for five weeks barely stepping out of my apartment, and having my food delivered. I was relieved to be finished because I was getting tired of late night Chinese food. I called the number on the back of the list, he quickly picked up the phone. “Hello Mr. Tamund.” I suddenly remembered I still didn’t know his name. “Are the paintings finished?”

“Yes, I finished my last coat of varnish last night. I can meet you tomorrow at The Fronz again, let’s say around seven o’clock?” I hoped it was still called that. Venues open and close so quickly around here.

He disagreed “No, let’s meet today. How about the coffee shop on twenty third street in two hours?”

The coffee shop was only two blocks away from my apartment. I wonder if he knew where I lived, only my mother knows where I live.

“Sure.” I said uneasy and he hung up. I packed up each piece carefully then knocked on my neighbors door, and hired her teenage son to help me load them in my SUV. I arrived at the coffee shop in less than 30 minutes, and waited in a shady parking spot. After a couple of minutes my phone alerted me to a change in my account the remaining amount was deposited. I was pleased, and started to search on my phone to see how much a trip to France was going to be, I need a vacation after these past weeks. It was getting close to an hour, then a man came up to my window and tapped on it, startling me. There wasn't much crime in the neighborhood but I didn’t roll down the window to talk to him, I kept my hand on the automatic lock switch.

“Are you Tamund? I’m here to pick up an order.” and he showed his card that read Sal’s Pick up and deliveries. Confused, I called back my mysterious customer, he picked up quickly again and confirmed that he sent the delivery men. I got out of my car and popped open the trunk for them to take them.

Later that evening, there was another alert on my phone for a change in my account. There was another deposit for twenty thousand dollars. Thinking there was a mistake I called back my mysterious customer, again he quickly picked up. “Mr. Tamund, I trust you saw my tip?”

“Oh-” I gasped.

He cut me off “Why don’t you take a trip to France, my treat? I hear that there are many fashion shows coming soon.”

A couple of days later heading to my flight a particular newspaper headline caught my eye. “FBI increases security at Art Museum after an attempted theft” It read on “...all pieces accounted for…”

I boarded the plane and wondered what if.