The More You Chase It

For a while after that night at the coffee shop Daisy and James kept in contact through text messages. From this, a type of friendship neither of them could really explain blossomed. It wasn’t a conventional friendship, or maybe it shouldn’t even really be called a friendship at all to begin with. It was an acquaintanceship. They both thought highly of each other and enjoyed their conversations but never had the time to spend together or the courage to invite the other out.

And as the summer season began and Daisy started to work, James too juggled his many jobs before seeking her out.

***

June 14th, 2010
{Daisy}

The heat in the gallery was obnoxious. There were five small plastic fans situated on the desk at the front of my sister’s gallery. I sat behind it, the back of my shirt hugging the thin layer of sweat on my back. Days like these were always the longest in the small gallery. My sister had gone out to do whatever it was she had to do—I hadn’t been listening when she told me—and no one had been in all day. I wasn’t surprised. My sister’s art was beautiful, sometimes even hauntingly so. Her work ranged a multitude of mediums, but being an artist she didn’t make money unless she sold her pieces, and the prices, like with all art, tended to be somewhat steep.

My phone vibrated against desk disrupting the monotony of staring at the door. Usually it was in my purse in the back but with no Clara and no customers I figured it wouldn’t hurt if someone texted me and I had something to do.

I pressed the center button on flat black face of my phone and the screen came to life.
1 new message
I pressed view and the first thing to catch my eye was the sender. From: James
I cracked a smile.

I think I just saw Robert Pattinson in 30 years.

James and I had a game where we would try and spot look-a-likes of famous people. It was a good way to stay entertained when I was on my way home from work or one of us was bored. Usually though it tended to be obscure names, not as mainstream as Robert Pattinson so I was surprised.

I clicked reply, Oh yeah? Does he sparkle in the sunlight? –send.

I used the hair tie on my wrist to put my hair up in a bun. The feeling of air dancing on the back of my neck was a relieving change from my long thick curls but I was still dying in the heat.

My phone vibrated a second time.

In this heat, everyone sparkles

I shook my head, That’s disgusting

Just as the message sent, my sister walked through the glass doors.

“Anyone come in?” She was carrying a large black bag made of cloth that barely stretched around its contents. Her black purse hung from her shoulder over top of the cloth bag. It all made her look very lopsided as she leaned slightly to one side to compensate for the weight.

“Nope, not yet. Are you going to be in the rest of the day?”

Her bag came down on the desk, beside my phone and the large open planner. From over my shoulder her eyes scanned the open pages, “Were there any calls?”

“Just Andrew.”

“Then I will probably not be here at lunch,” she flipped to the previous page and then back to the current one.

We were both startled by my phone vibrating yet again.

But still very true, are you at work now?

“Who’s James?” Clara asked with a smirk.

Like any big sister she loved to tease me any time I had a male friend. But James and I were perfectly platonic. Sure he was attractive but our friendship operated just perfectly as that, a friendship. I had only just met the guy.

“A guy I met at a party. We’re friends.”

Yes, I am currently at work with my nosey sister reading over my shoulder as I text this

“Why’s he asking if you’re at work?”

I shrugged. It wasn’t unusual for him to ask me that question. He didn’t like interrupting me while I was working so if I said I was he usually texted me less frequently.

“Do you guys have a date?” My sister seemed excited for a moment but I only laughed.

“How old are you? Can’t a guy and girl be friends?”

“Daisy and James sitting in a tree—“

“I swear to God if you finish that line…”
My sister only laughed at the not-so-menacing threat but she didn’t continue singing.

“I’m going to be upstairs working. If Andrew calls again just put him through.”

I rolled my eyes and watched as Clara walked up the stairs. It wasn’t until she was out of sight I remembered the black bag on the desk. She probably needed that. I checked my phone for a response from James–even though I hadn’t heard the phone vibrate—which there wasn’t, before sliding it into the pocket of my grey slacks. I could have just called her down to come get her bag but I knew she’d probably already be working. So I walked to the back where the staircase was narrow and the dark wooden steps wide and shallow. There were quite a lot of them before I reached her workspace.

“You forgot your bag,” I said as I found her looking out the window into the street in front of the gallery.

“Oh, can you just put it on my work bench?”

She didn’t look away from the window as I put down the bag. It seemed whatever was outside had a tight hold on her attention.

“What are you looking at?”

She turned around and beamed. “I think we are about to get some important business.”

And just as the words reached me I could hear the door open at the front of the gallery. I couldn’t understand why she seemed so happy but I knew I had to go greet whoever it was.

“Ok.”

“Well go do your job. I might come down in a bit.”

The excitement was rolling off her in torrents. It made me more curious than eager to see who had entered the gallery.

As I made my way down the stairs I checked my phone one more time but still no messages. And when I reached my desk again I saw a curly haired man gazing at a large painting on the wall where you enter.

“Can I help you?” I asked in my most professional tone.

The man turned around and the dark brown curls were replaced by familiar face.

“Actually I was looking for a piece to go above the fireplace in my apartment.”

James smiled playfully and I went along with the ruse. “Is there any type of piece you were looking for or mood you were trying to set with it?”

“Well I hear you have some unusual thread pieces?”

I had told him many times about my sister’s art. One of her favourite to do was dyed thread pieces that people could buy in glass frames. They were the most expensive because they had the longest process. But it was just nice he remembered.

I brought him to the end of the hall where there was an entire small square room full of her thread pieces.

“What are you really doing here?” I asked as we entered the room. I was actually really happy to see him. It was a more than nice way to break up my day.

“Well I came to see you. Is that a crime?”

“Depends on your intentions.”

I was smiling. It was strange how having him around was so much different than texting him. It was like his presence was my miracle cure for the miserable hot working day. He looked better than I remembered him.

“I wanted to see Miss Art Aficionado at work. Plus, you’re always talking about your sister’s work so I wanted to see for myself.”

He had been looking very carefully at the pieces on the walls, stopping when he reached a large one of birds and a park bench done in greys and browns.

“These are really amazing.”

It was weird knowing that he had learned so much about me over the last month through texting and me about him, This person standing at the other side of the room knew me as well as some of my friends I’d known for years and yet it was only the third time we’d been physically together. Regardless, being with him in person came just as easily as the texting had, which wasn’t true for most people I interacted with.

“Yeah, I’ve always been a bit jealous of Clara. Ever since we were kids she’s been really talented at anything art related. As a kid I didn’t really have any talents. Our parents tried putting me in soccer and piano and all that but I just didn’t have the aptitude for anything.”

He turned from the frame of work to momentarily glance at me, “I highly doubt that.”

“Yes, well not everyone can be a polymath like you.”

“Growing up I was a huge loner.”

I knew it was mean but I couldn’t help but laugh, “no way.”

“I was. I was the biggest dork. Socializing was the most foreign thing to me.”

I shook my head, “I can’t imagine that for a moment. You’re always so cool and charming.”

This time he took his full attention from the art and looked at me, “charming?”

“I mean, the night of the party it seemed like a lot of people were just staring at you like they were drawn to you.”

“So I don’t charm you just everybody else?”

“I never said everybody else.”

Laughing and joking with him came so natural and it was nice to watch him as he admired the art. There was a thoughtful look on his face that seemed like genuine intrigue. We continued to talk and I showed him around the entire gallery. After half an hour we ended up back in the square room in front of the large thread piece with the birds and bench.

“I want to buy this one. I actually do need something for my apartment above my fireplace.”

“Um, it’s $850.”

“Do you take debit?”

I blinked, once, twice, not sure if he was joking.

“Uhh, do you actually want it?”

“Yeah. It’d be a perfect fit.”

“Ok, well you can pay at the front desk and we can have it delivered by Friday.”

The fans were still running at the front desk as I put in his order.

“So, I guess assistants get paid pretty well.”

James got that familiar look of discomfort like the many other times his job had come up in conversation.

“Well, actually I’m not really an assistant. I just said that because you seemed cool.”

A puzzled look crossed my face as he punched in his pin on the small keypad. “And assistants usually get all the ladies?”

“Not like that. I just found you fun to talk to that night, I didn’t want it to be weird.”

“Well what do you really do then? You’re not part of the mob or anything”

The receipt jerked out of the printer.

“I’m an actor most of the time. But I do a bit of writing and other things.”

I looked at him crucially. He was obviously telling the truth but it seemed weird that he would have kept it from me. It wasn’t as if the city wasn’t filled with a bunch of people looking for acting work.

As I handed him the receipt I heard my sister coming down the stairs. “Well I don’t know why that would make me act weird.”

“Hello,” Clara greeted as she walked to us. She looked even happier than before, obviously noticing I had handed him a receipt. “I’m Clara Laurent.”

She held out her hand to James and he obliged.

“I’m James.”

“I know,” she smiled, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m a big Spiderman fan.”

And that was where I became completely lost. How did she know he was James? And what did it have to do with Spiderman? I don’t think my features could have portrayed my confusion any clearer.

“Thanks, I really like your work. I just bought one of the thread pieces. They’re amazing. How do you keep them together like that?” He gestured towards the back room even though the work wasn’t visible from where we were standing.

“I actually thread into a material that dissolves in water. I layer the thread so it will stay together on its own before I put the piece in water.”

James looked impressed, “That’s very unique.”

“Yes, well, we can get the piece to you in the next couple of days.” I interjected annoyed that I was so lost in the conversation.

“Do you deliver it yourself?”

I smiled and Clara gave me a suspicious look. “Sometimes. Usually we have one of the guys do it.”

“Well, if you do happen to come we should get a coffee again.”

“I would really like that.”

Taking me by surprise James pulled me into a subtle hug.

The scent of his cologne made me light-headed in his embrace. The warmth he generated added to the already scorching heat of the air when his body touched mine but I didn’t mind.

When he pulled away he shook Clara’s hand again.

“I’m sure I’ll come around again. There are plenty of empty walls in my apartment.”

“I hope you do.” Clara responded.

When he was gone the smile was completely removed from her face. “What the hell was that?”

She seemed just as confused as I had been, “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“You first. How do you know him?”

“That’s my friend James I told you about this morning. The one I met at the party.”

“You failed to mention he was James Franco .”

“What?”

“Don’t play dumb. You know who he is.”

The day had gone from being boring to fun to not making sense at all and it wasn’t even lunch.

“I know who he is. We talk a lot. He’s told me a lot about himself.”

“No, I mean he’s famous.”

“What?”

She sat down on the desk and faced me, “Is that all you can say?”

“No. I just don’t know what you mean by famous.”

“I mean he’s a huge actor that everyone knows and countless women all over the country want to bang.”

I rolled my eyes, “that’s lovely Clara.”

“I’m serious. He’s a big deal.”

“I don’t know. I mean, he doesn’t seem like it. He’s handsome yes, but he’s just James.”

She pulled a pencil out from the holder on my desk and began to play with it in her slender fingers, “well you better be careful with ‘just James’ because dating a celebrity means no privacy. I think at one point they even got a picture of him sleeping in class. It was everywhere.”

“We’re just friends and if he was that big of a celebrity I would have heard of him.”

She twirled the pencil with both of her hands, “you live under a rock Daisy. It’s all school and travelling for you. I bet you don’t even know who Kate Middleton is.”

She was right.
That night I went home and Googled James Franco. It seemed like there were endless news articles and pages dedicated to him. An image search made it clear that it was certainly him. But I wasn’t going to let that change anything. I closed the window on my laptop and the phone vibrated beside it.

From: James
If I said I wanted some advice on artwork for my dinning room would you come with my delivery?

I smiled and suddenly the idea of James Franco didn’t matter at all. He was still my friend James from Elizabeth’s party.

Of course I will
Be ready for it Wednesday