Art of Seduction

-John’s POV-

John saunters into his boss’s office, feeling damn proud of himself. But as he enters, he realizes the head honcho is nowhere in sight. “Where is this bastard!? I’ve got the best news I’ve had all week!”

He thought that he should probably keep his hands to himself because the boss can be particular about his things. “No, I better behave myself and not touch anything. Although what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and twiddle my thumbs?”

But his ire quickly fizzles out as his eyes linger on the empty chair behind his boss’s oversized and no doubt overpriced desk.

Well, don’t mind if I do, he thinks to himself.

He approaches the desk with perhaps a bit more swagger than is necessary, dropping himself into the lush chair. “After months of talking, I’ve finally got that stubborn appraiser in our pocket. The boss is going to be so pleased. I’ve earned this.”

Pulling his phone from his pocket, he checks his email for any other good news. Nothing relevant, but he does see a spam email with a truly ludicrous title.

ARE YOU SURE YOU REALLY KNOW THE PEOPLE IN YOUR INNER CIRCLE?

“And all in caps too, geez.”

Snorting, he pulls a cigar from his pocket and lights it, thinking to himself. There’s only one person who I’m always around, and I know him like the back of my hand. I could practically narrate his life myself. Clearing his throat, John puts on his best TV announcer’s voice. “Adrian Russell is an outstanding specimen of business who lives dangerously, just on the fringe of legality. Denouncing human trafficking and the illicit drug trade, his expertise is rumored to lie within the covert handling of money.”

John feels himself getting swept away in the moment, but it is hard not to consider whose desk he is behind. “A god among men, he isn’t interested in the likes of mere mortals. A modern-day robin Hood, he’s said to rip off solely the rich and the powerful.” And then they’d do into all his good traits. Which would they pick? Adrian has basically a laundry list of accolades. “Let’s see, an excellent marksman, a Casanova in his own right, a constant innovator. We have no idea where Adrian will go or what he will do next.”

“He’ll get a chance to test out his brand-new Colt if even a tiny bit of ash falls onto that 18th century desktop” came a voice in front of him.

“Adrian!”

John gulps, and then a sudden inhale of smoke has his lungs seizing up. But he doesn’t want to look like a dolt and hack in front of his boss, so he does his best to swallow it down.

“Get out of my chair.”

John scrambles to do so, his lungs screaming, allowing Adrian to take his usual place.

“Did you complete the job?”

John watches as his boss slowly and methodically removes his gloves, setting them down on the polished desk. His voice is basically a croak as he answers. “Yes”

Slowly, a smile spread across Adrian’s intense features. “I’ve been waiting for this for far too long. Finally, things are starting to work out.”

-Tina’s POV-

I pause the music I was playing for my students, reading from the list I’d printed out earlier. “It wasn’t uncommon for patrons to completely fund the livelihood of artists they were keen on. Some were exclusive, some weren’t, as it largely came down to whatever deal the two negotiated.”

I continue with my speech as I watch my students work on their various art projects. There won’t be a test on what I’m saying, but I like to give the students some minutes of trivia between the music I play while they all work.

“Very good Jenny, I like your use of color.” Jenny nods, only half listening while she is thoroughly immersed in her work. She is one of the students who really applies herself. Others not so much.

I look to the back of my classroom, and I see Tom. The teen just sits at his desk, hands folded while he stares into nothing. He doesn’t even play on his phone. I don’t understand why he so blatantly refuses to do classwork for assignments. He’s not even trying to play on something, he’s just sitting there.

His gaze flicks to me and I can tell he knows I’m looking at him. But he just sends me a challenging glare. I can practically hear him asking me what I’m gonna do about it. “What’s the matter Tom? Too good for the assignment?”

“As a matter of fact, I am, thank you for asking” he replies.

“You know that attitude will get you nowhere.”

“With all due respect, I’m not keen on taking advice from someone who ended up stuck teaching a bunch of reprobates how to imitate art.”

The little shit.

“You can see me after class,” I tell him.

“Sure, but I bet it’ll be just as productive as this lesson is.”

I move on, paying attention to the students who are at least trying, even If some of them are half-hearted about it. “Excellent work, Melissa. I can see that you’re really working on your understanding of how light hits objects.”

Thankfully, the rest of the class goes smoothly, and then it’s time for me and Tom to have our little talk.

“Do we really need to waste both of our time with this?” Tom says. He practically throws his bad into the chair closest to my desk, seemingly pissed off. He lounges leisurely in the next chair, fixing me with a superior look. “I am not going to change, and I doubt that you are either. So why don’t we go about our merry ways and call it a day?”

“Look Tom, I recognize that we’ve had a fairly contentious relationship this semester, and it’s not doing either of us any good.”

“You being here isn’t doing any of us good.”

“Is there a reason you feel so antagonistic towards me?”

“Yeah, there is. People who don’t paint shouldn’t be reviewing other people’s art. You’re not competent enough.”

“There are thousands of experts all over the world who wouldn’t agree with that opinion. I know it may be hard to swallow, but perhaps you’re not as learned as you think?”

“You know what? I don’t fucking need this!” He grabs his bag and starts to storm out. I watch impassively, a bit tired of his theatrics. Before leaving, he says “As soon as I finish with this crappy school, I’m gonna live the kind of life you could only dream about. I’ll be making art! Real art that affects the world! And you’ll be just sitting here, teaching what you’ll never be able to do.” At that he storms off, leaving me alone.

I stare at an empty easel not too far from me, biting my lip. I suppose he might have a point. I don’t paint. In fact, I haven’t so much as touched a brush since...Well, it has been a long time.

I don’t really want to think about all that. Not now. But the dark memories try to take a hold anyway, and it takes quite a bit of effort to shove them out of my mind. Taking a deep breath, I log onto electronic school records.

I think a talk with Toms guardians is long overdue.