Portraits

Jason gazed at his reflection in the mirror and smiled.  If looks could be measured in inches, the boy would have been off the charts.    The dimpled smile displayed straight even teeth and when he walked down the city streets, heads turned in admiration.  He towered over other boys since puberty had come early and his sleek, muscular frame belied the fact that he was only 14 years old.   He was a natural charmer.  It came to him effortlessly as breathing and few could resist his enormous appeal.  He’d learned at an early age to use his extraordinary good looks to his advantage.

“Victor, I don’t see why I need to come to you any more.  We both know the pupil has surpassed the master.”

Victor Hall pursed his lips.  “Jason, your ego is bigger than Texas.  You still have a lot to learn.”

Jason laughed sardonically and Victor longed to slap him.

“You may be able to fool my mother into believing you still have something to offer, but we both know the truth.”

Victor shook his head.  “You’re still a boy.  No one is going to buy your paintings.  Not until I say it’s time.  Your work still lacks maturity.  Your technique continues to improve but you have to learn discipline.”

Scowling, Jason picked up his paintbrush.  “Well, then teach me, Victor.  God knows my mother is paying you enough.”

Victor loathed Jason Brooke.  Had it been any other student, he would have thrown him out on his ear years ago, but Jason’s phenomenal talent had persuaded him to accept the belligerent boy’s abuse.  For seven long years he’d endured both Jason and his mother.  What Jason did not understand was that the sizable fees meant nothing to him.  Victor Hall had his own agenda.  He was certain that soon all of his own dreams would be realized because of his association with the boy.  Victor believed there would come a time when he would be known as the force behind Jason Brooke, the master who had taught his protégé everything.