Driven to Date by Susan Hatler Page A

Patti continued her instructions. “How big is the hand compared to the face? Are the eyes and nose appropriate distances apart?”
    Sounded like math to me. Maybe I could get a handle on this. Deep breath, and chill.
    Patti checked her watch. “We’ve got an hour and a half, then anyone who wants to share their work can do so at that time. Sound good?”
    The class murmured affirmative remarks.
    “Great, then let’s start.” Patti slipped out of the circle of easels. “Troy?”
    Troy glanced at me one more time, then a smooth smile spread across his chiseled features as he untied his belt loop. He shrugged the green fabric off his shoulders, and the robe dropped away. Troy was naked. And staring directly at me.
    No, this never happened in the courtroom.
    I glanced at Sarah, who’d made a shocked mewing sound, and one distinct thought ran through my mind: I could be at home reviewing my cases right now.
    Suddenly, something bubbled up inside of me, and I fought to control my laughter. My colleague was sitting in front of me without clothes on and I was supposed draw him. This was comical. Around me, the scratching of charcoal against paper filled the room with a rhythmic sound. Yes, I’d seen pictures of David , but I was no Michelangelo.
    Patti put a hand on my arm. “You need help?”
    I nodded slowly. What had Patti instructed? Proportions? Size? I wasn’t sure I could look at Troy there , let alone draw him.
    Patti lifted my hand as it clutched the charcoal, and she brought it to the paper. “Just start with a light outline of the entire body.”
    I took a deep breath, then slid the charcoal on the paper in quick strokes as instructed.
    “Good.” Patti smiled, as she rubbed her chin. “Just sketch the outline of the forms and smudge them to create shadows. If you show shadow and light accurately, you’ll form the shapes. Make sense?”
    “Okay,” I confirmed, then began outlining and smudging. I sketched and sketched, careful to focus on Troy’s face and chest, and avoid anything too far south. When our time was up, I stood back, put my hands on my hips, and admired my work. His chiseled face, hard pecks, and washboard abs hadn’t turned out half bad for my first try.
    “What the . . .?” Ginger gaped at the smiley-faced pair of shorts I’d drawn on my model. “He wasn’t wearing those!”
    “Creative license.” I shrugged, because I made my own rules.
    Sarah and I doubled over with laughter. Only later did I realize that instead of pretending to have fun, I’d had a blast.
    ****
    The next morning, I worked out at Totally Fit, then arrived to work promptly at eight—fired up and ready to plow through legal briefs. Sketching Troy had been a laborious activity. Along the same lines as that guy from Shawshank Redemption scraping his way out of jail with an old spoon. Probably no more art in my future, but it had been an interesting adventure.
    I checked my voicemails, and had two from clients, then one from the Helping Homeless Project. Apparently the director of H.H.P. had heard about my donation to the Sacramento Children’s Home and that I’d expressed interest in doing more for my community. They were short on volunteers tonight for their dinner program, so I wrote down their name and number.
    Hovered over my desk, I lifted my head as Sarah strode in and dropped a stack of mail in my in-box. “I’m still picturing the smiley-faced results of your artistic talent.”
    I snickered. “Glad to entertain you. Did you go for drinks with Bud after?”
    She nodded, then slipped into the chair in front of my desk. “He didn’t find the art class quite as amusing. He got kind of possessive, demanding I not go anymore.”
    I grimaced. “Seriously? That’s not good.”
    “I know.” Her eyes glazed over. “That’s why I broke it off with him. We had fun, but I don’t need to be controlled over lame, petty things.”
    My heart went out to her, but it was a smart move. “Need another girls’