Page 15 of Stroked Long
They step aside, out of the way of others, and Eva speaks softly to him while he continues to stare at his bottle. I can’t hear what they are saying, but I’m sure it has something to do with what just transpired. All I see is Eva speaking softly and Bodi nodding his head in agreement. I observe the way she speaks to him, her hand carefully touching his arm with comfort, the way her posture isn’t commanding, more welcoming, and how even though he’s not looking at her, she looks at him, bending just a little to try to catch a glimpse of his eyes under the brim of his hat.
Leaning over to her ear, he whispers something that causes her to shake her head. She proceeds to grip his hand in hers and squeeze it while speaking softly. To be a fly on the wall, to hear what she’s telling him, to know what drives him to be so softly spoken, so isolated. I want to know. I don’t know why, there is just something about Bodi that drives me to get to know him, to see what makes him tick and what makes his heart stutter.
“Come on,” I hear Eva say, pulling on his hand. She addresses me as they near the table. “Sorry about that, Ruby. Bodi has a really busy schedule; we should get to the point of the meeting so he can be on his way.”
“I can schedule for a different time if you would like,” I offer. “I’m pretty flexible.”
“Not necessary,” Bodi answers, taking a seat. “Go ahead, Eva.”
Clasping her hands together, she rests them in front of her. “Yes, so I wanted to let you two know I won’t be around to help out with the foundation. I have a pretty tight schedule as well with my art shows and then will be traveling to Omaha for trials and also to Rio.”
“We aren’t sure I will make it.”
Eva gives him a “get real” look.
“Please, Bodi. Reese might beat you at trials, but you always get a slot, and you always take home the gold, so don’t give me that shit. I have a condo already booked in Rio, to hell if I will be staying in some hotel while I’m there. I will be living in luxury. I owe it to Lauren. She deserves a good vacation.”
“Sounds wonderful. Rio will be beautiful to visit. I heard it’s such a richly cultural environment. And that giant Jesus statue. Man, I would love to see that fella in person. Actually, did you know their giant Jesus is struck by lightning several times a year? Which is odd because God controls the lightning, you know, throwing bolts up there when he’s feeling frisky. You would think he would avoid striking his stone son with shards of electric energy.”
“Not sure a lot of people know that.” Eva smiles at me. “Anyway, I saw your notes on the project and I agree, the gala is the way to go for raising awareness and funds. I would like to see incorporating swimming and art together.”
“What do you mean?” Bodi asks, avoiding eye contact with me.
“Well,” Eva thinks for a second before answering, “both art and swimming are so important to us; I would love to see art depicting swimmers for sale. I’m sure we can invest in some artists around town to help us out and, of course, have the kids paint a few canvases for us.”
“Might be cool.” Bodi shrugs.
“Here’s an idea,” I say, feeling a little nervous from what I’m about to say. “Why don’t we use Bodi as a model.”
“I’m not comfortable with that,” he says quickly before I can finish. “I don’t want to pose or anything.” His voice is rough with a hint of flaring anxiety. Eva notices and puts her hand on his shoulder casually to calm him down.
“I didn’t mean for you to model in front of people,” I respond quickly, waving my hands to avoid any misconception. “I meant you can be the artist, in a way.”
“How so?” Eva asks.
Bod turns to me, and his eyes meet mine. Those blue irises cut deep with the soulful look they carry.
“Well, it might be cool to have him swim against the canvas, do different strokes with his arms covered in paint.”
Eva rapidly claps her hands together in excitement while she squeals. “That is a fantastic idea! Oh God, we have to do this, and I want one of the paintings for my own collection.”
“I don’t know anything about painting,” Bodi states, clearly not as excited about the idea as Eva.
“You don’t need to know anything,” she counters. “You just need to know your different strokes. God, I can’t believe I didn’t think about this. We can use the stroked pictures as high-ticket items to really generate some profit. Hell, right about now I would pay a decent price for Bodi’s swimming to be plastered against a canvas. I’m sure long-time fans with heavy pockets would feel the same way.”
Bodi turns to Eva and says, “What would I have to do? Would you help me?”
Cringing slightly, Eva says, “I will be out of town, Bodi, but I know Ruby wouldn’t mind stepping in. Literally, you would just make swimming motions against a canvas while your arms are painted.”
“It will be really simple,” I step in. “We can even do different variations based on how you feel.”
“What kind of variations?” he asks, his eyes peeking up at me past the brim of his hat.
“Well, we can paint the upper half of your body, position you in a swim pose and then press you against the canvas. We can paint you, lay you on the canvas, and have you make motions, maybe using different hues. Or, we can even give you paintbrushes that are dripping with paint, lean you over a canvas and have you stroke above it, making splatters of paint on the canvas.”
“I like all of those ideas!” Eva cheers. “The last one would be a fun one to do with the kids. We could use those canvases for the gala as well.”
“Fantastic idea,” I say, feeling really invigorated about this idea.
