e of Heineken and acted grown up. Mrs.
Van Slyke was leaning forward. She had unexpectedly exotic breasts that
hung and then swelled upwards. "The thing is, it can take a while
before you get it. Sometimes you never get it. I've been working on
this one all year." Hendrik walked over to a heavy wooden easel. A
canvas, half painted, half sketched in pencil, showed a young man
sitting by a fireplace and holding a guitar. His chair was sideways to
the fire. His body and guitar were turned toward the painter. There was
a wine bottle on the floor next to the chair.

"No glass," Patrick said.

"He's drinking alone."

"Why is he turned? Who is he looking at?"

"Maybe if I knew that, I could paint the goddamned thing."

"Oh," Patrick said. "I like it--so far, anyway. Pretty intense."

"Hendrik, are you there with Patrick?" Mrs. Van Slyke's voice came
loudly through an intercom. Hendrik made a face, went over to the door,
and pressed a plastic button.

"Yes, Dear."

"Parker is here for Patrick."

"Be right there," Hendrik said.

They walked side by side to the main house. Patrick felt himself
looking at Mrs. Van Slyke differently; he was seeing her partly through
Hendrik's eyes, as Hendrik had painted her. She was more female.

"Patrick asked what art is," Hendrik explained.

"Are you clear on that now?" Mrs. Van Slyke asked as she took the empty
bottles from their hands. Parker was grinning on the sideline.

"Umm--it's over there," Patrick said, waving at the studio.

"Of course it is," Mrs. Van Slyke said without changing expression.
"What wonderful crews you have, Parker! The place looks marvelous. I
hope you will be able to do the studio next year."

"It will be first on on my list," Parker promised. "Come, Patrick,
let's get the ladder on the rack."

"Thanks for the Heineken," Patrick said to Hendrik.

"Good job," Hendrik said.

"Goodbye, Patrick. I hope that we see you again." Mrs. Van Slyke smiled
and waited for his reaction.

"Bye," he said. They hustled off. On their way down the mountain, he
felt the mood lighten. "Whew," he said.

"Nice going, Patrick. A raise is in order--$2.25, retroactive to the
beginning of this week."

"No shit!"

Parker slapped one knee. "It's over there--ha, ha--art . . . "

"Well it was, is," Patrick said.

"Yes, yes, no doubt."

Parker dropped him off at the Depresso. "Thanks for the raise."

"You earned it, Patrick. See you in the morning."

Patrick skip