Chapter 21

As soon as he was inside he went up to change clothes and headed to the studio.

* * * *

“No.” Brian ran his hands through his hair. He’d been working on the painting for almost three weeks and while it was taking form, it still wasn’t right. “It’s his face, his lips and eyes. Damn it, I see him practically every day. Hell, we spent the whole day together, today. Why can’t I capture his expression on canvas the way I see it in real life?”

He cleaned his brushes, covered the painting, and went up to spend time with Sir K.

“Bri angry,” the macaw said as Brian got out his food to fill his cups.

“Not angry. Frustrated.” Brian stopped to stroke Sir K’s feathers. “Your part in the painting is working. Conley’s almost is, but…”

“Bad Con.”

Brian chuckled. “No, not bad. He’s good.”

“Good Con.”

“Yep.”

“Bad Bri?”

“Bad artist, I think. I wonder of the masters, like Rembrandt and Renoir had as much trouble getting what they wanted down on canvas?”