“That would be nice. A Southern Comfort and lemonade, please.” I replied. “Large one?” He asked. “I hope so!” I chuckled, and raised my ey...brows. With a little squeeze of my bum, he returned to the bar. I was standing alone, at our Warehouse managers’ retirement party, as my friend Carla had gone to speak to her boss. Moments later he returned with my drink. “What’s that you’ve got?” I asked nodding towards his glass. “Good old fashioned coke,” he grimaced, “I’ve got the car. I didn’t. They’ll be matched in size, won’t they?”“I’m not sure I want to sell those,” I said. Clarice looked at me like I’d grown a second head.“There may not be any need for us to continue,” she said. “I’m sorry, Tony, but I represent artists who are ready to enter the market. That means selling their works. If you are simply painting for your own pleasure, that’s different.”“It’s just ... they’re my friends ... and lovers.”“Then get models you aren’t emotionally attached to. And paint something. More

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