“Ever since Brandon told me about the Contemporary Artists show,” Kamiko said, “I’ve been doing studies almost every day. I totally want to get one of my pieces into that show.”

“Aren’t you worried about taking too much time away from all your pre-med classes?” Romeo asked.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “but I can’t help myself. Painting is way more fun,” she giggled. “Don’t tell my parents,” she said nervously.

Romeo pulled out his cell phone and mimed dialing. “Bring!,” he said. “Bring! Oh, hello, Mrs. Nishimura? Yeah, this is Romeo Fabiano, Kamiko’s friend. Yeah, Kamiko is totally bailing on her Biology homework and spending all her time painting. Yeah, she’s crazy. Thought you’d like to know.” He mimed ending the call and shoved the phone in his pocket. “She said she’d be here with the entire family to intervene in about an hour. Oh, and you have been disowned. But they’re still coming anyway. Said something about a caning.”

“I thought caning was only in Singapore,” I offered.

“Her parents are very multi-cultural,” Romeo joked. I knew that Romeo had met Kamiko’s family and knew them pretty well.

“They wouldn’t do that, would they?” I asked.

“No way!” Kamiko said. “Caning uses a rattan stick. My parents prefer those bamboo samurai swords the kendo guys use. They’re called shinai, and have been known to break bones.”

“What?!” I was shocked. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Half,” Kamiko said morosely. “Anyway, which painting do you guys think I should submit to Charboneau?”

“They’re all so good,” I said.

Kamiko was amazingly talented. I had to keep reminding myself that I was getting better every day too, even though it seemed like Kamiko was always outpacing me.

“She’s right,” Romeo said. “I can’t pick one. Maybe you should take all of them down to show Brandsome.”

“That’s what I was thinking,” Kamiko said. “So I took photos of them all and printed them out.” She held out a black portfolio folder filled with color prints of each painting in the plastic sleeves. A business card mounted on the front, printed with elegant script, read, “The Artwork of Kamiko Nishimura.” Below her name was her contact information.

“You even made your own business card!” I marveled. “So professional.”

“I did it all on my computer,” she grinned.

I flipped through it. “Wow, Kamiko. It looks amazing.”

“Thanks,” she smiled. “I had planned on going by the gallery later this afternoon. Do you guys want to go?”

“I’ve got section,” Romeo said. “I’m having a terrible time with my scene for Playwriting class. I need to talk to the TA and get some suggestions. Right after, I have Acting class.”

I shook my head. “I can never get over how awesome your class schedule is, Romeo.”

Kamiko looked at me hopefully. “Sam, do you want to go? I’m sort of nervous about showing my work to Brandon.”

“That’s only because he makes your thighs quiver,” Romeo joked.

“He does not!” Kamiko blurted.

“Sounds like love to me,” Romeo smiled. “Well, I’m going to run, you guys. Have fun at the gallery. Sam, make sure to keep a tight leash on Kamiko, or she’ll jump all over Brandon and ruin her chances of getting in the art show.”

“I will not!” Kamiko protested.

Romeo gave me a knowing nod and rolled his eyes. “She’s so in love with Brandsome. Bye guys,” he waved as he walked out.

Kamiko turned to me with a pleading look on her face. “I am not in love with Brandsome.”

“I believe you, Kamiko,” I giggled.

SAMANTHA

Kamiko and I made the short drive from SDU down to La Jolla in my VW. I took the scenic route along Torrey Pines Road. We parked on the street and made the short walk to Charboneau Gallery.

I hadn’t been to the gallery since Christos’ show last year. It was drastically different during the day time. There were no crowds, and all new art hung on the walls. The doors were open, but the place seemed empty.

Kamiko and I stood in the middle of the main room, looking around.

“Where is everyone?” I asked.

“I called Brandon this morning and he said he’d be here all afternoon,” Kamiko said uncertainly.

We both turned to see Brandon coasting down the stairs.

Kamiko leaned toward me and whispered, “He’s so hot!”

Halfway down the stairs, Brandon said enthusiastically, “Greetings, you two!” His face beamed as he looked at us. It had been weeks since New Year’s Eve. Kamiko’s crush on Brandon was obvious to all of us. He’d been such a gentleman with her, but was he interested?

“How have you been, Samantha?” he asked, extending his hand.

I offered mine and he kissed it. I pulled my hand free as soon as I could. Luckily, Kamiko hadn’t noticed. She was too busy gushing over Brandon.

“Kamiko,” Brandon said, extending his hand to her, “good to see you.”

Kamiko offered her hand, but Brandon merely shook it.

I winced. Oh boy. This was not good. My only hope was for Kamiko to continue crushing so hard she wouldn’t notice his focus on me.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Brandon asked.

Kamiko blinked. “I called about showing you my samples? For the Contemporary Artists show?” She held up her portfolio.

He didn’t actually take the portfolio from her. “That’s right,” Brandon smiled his snake-charmer smile. “My apologies, things have been intense around here lately.”

I wasn’t fooled. I needed to strategize my way out of this before Brandon broke Kamiko’s heart by throwing himself at me. I wasn’t sure if he actually wanted to see her art, or if he was blowing smoke up Kamiko’s ass. Maybe the best solution was to extract both of us from the situation.

Had Brandon been completely drunk on New Year's Eve with Kamiko or just being polite? Was there even a remote chance he liked her? I had no way to know.

Brandon motioned toward the stairs. “Why don’t we go up to my office and I can look your samples over?”

“Okay,” Kamiko beamed.

The three of us went up the staircase and into his office. The walls were covered with dozens of framed paintings in a variety of artistic styles. I guessed they were from the many artists who had sold art through Charboneau Gallery over the years.

Brandon sat behind his desk while me and Kamiko sat in the leather chairs in front of it.

“Samantha, have you seen much of Christos lately?” Brandon asked. “He must be busy with all the new work I’m sending him.”

Was he insinuating that Christos was too busy for me? Or just stating the obvious? With Brandon, I told myself it was safe to assume he never did the obvious. The solution: lie through my teeth. “Oh,” I said, “I’m not sure. I just know we spend a ton of time together. I sometimes wonder when he even finds time to paint—” Okay, shut up now. Don’t make things worse.

I watched Brandon closely while he took in what I’d said.

“Mmm,” he poker-faced. He wasn’t giving up anything. “So, Kamiko. Your art.”

“Yeah!” Kamiko handed him her portfolio.

He flipped through it casually. Was he looking at the paintings at all, or me? I wasn’t sure, but his eyes were darting at me way too much.

“What do you think?” Kamiko beamed, on the edge of her seat, her eyebrows a mile high.

He smiled pleasantly. “It’s solid work, Kamiko. But it’s very standard.”

Kamiko’s brows fell from the sky and crashed over her eyes in a knitted, garbled line. “Oh,” she sighed.

Brandon sighed, “The Contemporary Artist’s show at Charboneau Gallery is about new ideas, risky ideas. What you have here are some very skillful studies. They are excellent studies. Fine workmanship. But they’re still studies.”

Kamiko seemed to be sinking into her chair like it was made of quicksand. Poor thing.

I didn’t know what to do.

Brandon quickly sensed Kamiko’s change in mood. “I have no doubt you could sell your work to any of a number of different galleries,” he said optimistically. “There is always a demand for beautifully rendered traditional imagery.”

Kamiko slouched over despondently.

“I could give you some names of other galleries,” Brandon said encouragingly. “I could even make some calls myself, put in a good word for you.”

I suddenly realized why Kamiko was shutting down. It wasn’t the fact that Charboneau Gallery wasn’t the right fit for her amazing work. It was that Brandon wasn’t interested in her paintings. Her passion. I was willing to bet he wasn’t very interested in Kamiko, either, but his cursory dismissal of her art was a harsh enough rejection on its own.

I wanted to reach over and console her, but I was afraid if I did, she’d crack and tears would come gushing out.

“Maybe she could paint something else?” I suggested animatedly. “Couldn’t you do something different, Kamiko?” I encouraged.

Kamiko looked at me like she was dying. Painfully.

“I’m sure you could,” I said. “I don’t know, see what some other artists are doing? Try something different?” I was grasping at straws. “Isn’t that right, Brandon?”

His eyes goggled at me like he was helpless.

I wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. “Isn’t that right, Brandon?” I insisted.

“Oh,” he swallowed, “yeah. If Kamiko wanted to prepare some new samples, I would be happy to look at them.”

Damn right he would. “Maybe you could give her some ideas about what to paint? Brandon?”

“I don’t know…” he waffled, “I’m no artist…”

“But maybe you could suggest some artists for her to study? Some artists from past shows maybe?” Christos had suggested as much to me a week ago. I was merely parroting his words back to Brandon.