The Art of Wag (7 page)

Kat sat in front of the corner cabinet. “Are you okay, Roxy? Don’t worry. Joel is good at getting animals out of small spaces. He’s had lots of practice. You’ll be okay.”

Joel returned and sat in front of the cabinet, next to Kat. “I need to take the lazy Susan out first. Then I might need to lift the counter.” He positioned himself on his back inside the cabinet so his head and shoulders were inside. “Could you shine the flashlight in here?”

Kat complied. “If you have to kill the kitchen to get this dog, I’m going to be depressed.”

Joel mumbled something unintelligible and began removing pieces of the lazy Susan mechanism and handing them to Kat. Finally, he extricated himself from the cabinet and sat on the floor next to her. “I can hear Roxy scrabbling around back there. I think there’s a strip of wood that she was able to push in, but then it wouldn’t go the other way, so she can’t get out.”

Kat put the flashlight in her lap. “What is it with the animals here? It’s like they become possessed and need to explore the deepest recesses of this house.”

Joel shook his head and shoved aside the pieces of the cabinet on the floor, so he could reorient himself in the cabinet again. He grabbed a saw and stretched out on his stomach with his head and shoulders inside the cabinet. “I think I can avoid messing with the counter if I just cut out this piece of wood. Look out, Roxy.”

Kat peered over his shoulder. “Be good, Roxy. Watch out for any blades you might see go by.”

After slowly and methodically sawing for a few minutes, Joel yanked on the piece of wood, which gave way with a crack. The dog jumped up over his arm and ran down his back into the kitchen. Joel jerked away, whacked his arm on the cabinet, and yelled a long string of descriptive phrases about Roxy’s heritage.

Kat grinned. “Wow, you have a bigger vocabulary than I thought.”

“Just get the dog, please,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Okay, I’m on it.”

Chapter 4

T
racy got to the second day of class a little late. By the time she arrived, the typical educational social dynamic had come into play and everyone had already claimed the same seats they had been in the day before. Tracy sat down at the table in the seat next to Rob, who gave her a friendly smile in welcome.

After an evening talking to Shelby about the dangers of feline obesity and her various artistic endeavors, Tracy was feeling better about coming to class this morning. Dr. Cassidy would be proud of her for giving Shelby the fat-cat lecture, because Billy Bob really did need to lose some weight. And unlike Tracy’s parents, Shelby was supportive of Tracy’s interest in art. Shelby even had one of Tracy’s paintings hanging on her wall as a show of solidarity. Since it was her friend who had insisted that she finish the piece, it was fitting that she should have it.

The instructor, Ms. Melina, told everyone to open their files from yesterday. Tracy looked at her drawing of Roxy and missed her little dog. She had captured Roxy’s somewhat aloof and demanding personality in the expression on her face and the jaunty tilt of her head. Part of today’s class was to print the image. All the printouts would be hung on the wall and then each student would explain how the drawing was created. Other people then could make suggestions about how the artwork could be improved. Fortunately, as an art-class veteran, Tracy wasn’t as afraid of critiques as she used to be. And at least her image of Roxy was better than the thing Rob had created.

Tracy jumped in her chair as Ms. Melina bellowed, “It’s time to make art! Start a new file!” After hurriedly clicking on some menus, Tracy was greeted by a blank white screen. The instructor rattled off a list of instructions and Tracy clicked furiously, trying to keep up. She turned and peeked at Rob, who looked a little disturbed. He raised his eyebrows at her and Tracy shook her head slightly.

The entire class seemed to vibrate in unison as a loud siren went off. The screeching noise was insufferable, yet Ms. Melina managed to yell over the din, “Save your files now. We have to leave the building.”

Tracy clicked and at the very moment she pressed the
OK
button, her stomach clenched. Where had her detailed digital painting of Roxy gone? She had spent all of yesterday slaving over that thing. Did she now have only an almost-blank image with two black lines on it? How could she be so completely stupid? She slumped in her chair and closed her eyes as her classmates all rushed to gather their things.

Rob reached over and tapped her shoulder. “Come on. We’ve gotta go. I think I actually smell smoke.”

Tracy shut off the computer. “Okay, I’m coming.” She grabbed her bag and followed Rob toward the door and mumbled, “Stupid computer. I hope you fry.”

Everyone filed out of the building and gathered on the lawn. Tracy stood next to Rob and placed her bag on the ground. The students stared at the windows, looking for any sign of smoke or flames. The jangling sound of the siren was starting to get to Tracy and she bent to pick up her bag, and took a few steps back to get farther away. Rob gave her a sidelong glance, then looked away. Was he checking out her butt? Ignoring him, she looked up at the sky, watching the clouds swirl around. One of them looked like an African elephant talking to a refrigerator. How long did they have to stand out here? Couldn’t they leave yet?

Ms. Melina waved at the students, who were slowly starting to disperse across the grassy area. “Wait! You can’t go. Everyone come over here, next to this tree.”

Once all of the students had reassembled in front of her, the instructor said, “I haven’t heard what’s going on, but I have counted and it seems you’re all here and not burning up into little cinders inside. So let’s just take our lunch break early. Meet back here at two o’clock. I hope I don’t have to tell you that if the building is truly on fire, please do not go inside. We’ll reschedule the class. However, since I don’t see smoke, I’m betting someone just wanted to get out of a test. I’ll see you here in two hours.”

Relieved to finally be able to get away from the awful noise, Tracy turned and started walking away from the din. There had to be a convenience store around here somewhere. She had two dollars budgeted for a lunch of pretzels, crackers, and a soda, but now she really wanted to get some aspirin too. That was going to cut into her funds.

Rob ran up alongside her. “Hi. Since we have some time, would you like to go to lunch with me?”

Tracy shook her head. “I was just going to get something at a quick mart somewhere. Have you seen anything like a 7-Eleven nearby?”

“No. There’s a great deli, though. And we actually have time to eat lunch, thanks to the alarm, so we don’t have to rush.”

“Sorry. This might sound like a lame excuse, but I can’t afford that.” With the exception of the last two dollars, she’d given her cash to Shelby again so her friend could have lunch.

Rob’s bushy brows came together momentarily and then his expression lightened. “Don’t worry about that! It’s my treat. I want to talk to you about your drawing yesterday.” He pointed toward a building. “The place is right over there.”

Tracy smiled at his enthusiasm. “Well, okay. If you don’t mind paying, I don’t mind eating. I thought the drawing we did yesterday was fun, didn’t you?”

“Not exactly.” He readjusted his backpack on his shoulder, hunching over like a turtle retreating into its shell. “I know guys aren’t supposed to cry, but that thing I drew was enough to make a grown man weep. Even I could see that.”

“What was it? Or was it an abstract?” All artists knew that the term “abstract” could be used to tactfully indicate that a piece of art had no resemblance to anything in the real world. Sometimes abstracts were created on purpose. And sometimes not. Fortunately, Rob probably wasn’t aware of that little verbal nuance.

Rob gestured toward the sky. “It was going to be a sunset. Then I changed my mind and it was going to be an ocean scene. Then I deleted something and it just got worse.”

“The colors were...interesting.”

“I know. Nothing like that exists in nature. Well, maybe after the apocalypse it might, but not now.”

Tracy laughed. “Thank goodness for that! At least you don’t seem too worried about it.”

Rob opened the door at the deli for Tracy. “I was hoping I could talk to you about that. But first, what do you want to eat?”

They perused the menu, ordered, and sat down at a table with their sandwiches. Rob had been right; the place was great and Tracy dug into her huge avocado-filled veggie sandwich with gusto. She paused to pick a wayward clover sprout off her chin. “This is so good. Thank you! So you wanted to talk about your artwork for the class. Is there anything I can do to help?”

Rob put down his sandwich and leaned forward. “Well, last night after I got home, I had a message from someone who wants a huge web site. From a technical standpoint, it’s really exciting, with lots of back-end databases.”

“Uh, you think databases are exciting?” Was he kidding? And what was a back-end database? Something dirty? The Internet was supposed to be full of porn, after all. Ick.

“When it comes to web sites, including database technology like that means it is going to cost money. Lots of money. They even want to tie in the real-estate multiple-listing databases so people can look at houses online. A real-estate web site for a tourist area could be a big deal. Businesses could advertise. There isn’t much like that out there now. It would be leading-edge.”

Tracy tried not to roll her eyes at all the techno-zeal. “So it’s not porn. That’s good. But what does that have to do with your artwork for this class?”

Rob took a sip of water. “You’ve seen what I can—and mostly can’t—do in Photoshop. There’s no way I can even talk about design with these guys without sounding like a complete idiot. Maybe you could help me?”

Tracy picked up her last potato chip and waved it at him. “I don’t think so. How could I do that? I told you, I don’t even have a computer. I can’t talk about databases. No way. Plus, you don’t even know me.” She popped the chip into her mouth and looked up at the clock on the wall. “Hey, we should be getting back.”

Rob readjusted his glasses, glanced at the clock, and pushed his chair back to stand up. “I know you have an eye for design. Maybe we can talk about this a little after class?”

Tracy stood up and gathered her tray. “Yeah, maybe. I have to figure out what I’m going to do for the rest of class. I think I killed my drawing from yesterday.”

“How could you have killed it? It was great.”

“I saved the stupid lines we drew this morning and then my drawing from yesterday was just gone. I’m kind of hoping that the computer died in the fire so I don’t flunk the course.” She was doing it again. Why did she continually blab to Rob about everything? She needed some type of electronic zapper to get herself to shut up.

He grabbed his backpack and turned to her. “Depending on what happened, I might be able to find the file for you and get it back. If I can do that, will you at least talk to me a little more about this project?”

Tracy inclined her head in a mock bow and twirled her hands in an elaborate supplicant wave. “If you can get my image back, you’ll be my geek hero.”

“Okay. I’m fine with that.”

Although there was a slight smoky smell in the building, whatever fire had set off the alarm must have been small and localized, so class resumed after all. Rob sat in front of Tracy’s computer and pecked at the keys. “I got it.”

Tracy leaned over his shoulder to look at the monitor. “That’s fantastic!” She squeezed his shoulders with both hands. “You
are
my geek hero. I might not flunk!” For a geek, he had surprisingly muscular shoulders.

His lip curved in a half smile and he looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “No, you definitely won’t. I might. But you won’t.”

Ms. Melina walked in and said, “Everyone sit down. It’s time to make art!”

Tracy and Rob rearranged themselves so they were in front of their own computers again. Tracy smiled at her image of Roxy. What a relief. She slowly and carefully saved the file and then saved it again with another name that included the word “backup” so she’d have more than one copy, in case the inevitable happened and she screwed something up.