This excerpt takes place over half way into the story. Our hero, Jack, is being driven downtown Phoenix by Cassy, the beautiful girl he has met at the Sundown Corral, accompanied by her young son Tommy and his pet beagle Mercutio. All of a sudden Jack spies the Phoenix Art Museum. Having come from more humble origins, Cassy has never been in a museum.Jack leaned down to watch the passing skyscrapers out the top of the windshield, “There’s not very many buildings downtown is there?” he said. She didn’t say anything. “Not like Boston or New York,” he added.
“Enough for me,” she said defensively. Jack was surprised by her tone.
“I like it, though,” he said hurriedly. “I like it better.” She didn’t answer. They rode in silence, Jack studying the passing buildings and people. Suddenly he yelped, “Hey is that the Art Museum we just passed?”
“I don’t know,” she said.
Jack twisted around in his seat, “Yeah, that says it’s the Art Museum, have you ever been been to the Art Museum?”
Cassy shook her head.
“Really,” Jack said, surprised.
“Yes really,” she said, again with the tone.
“Let’s go look at it. I’ll bet they have some neat stuff, huh Tommy. You want to go look at it?”
Tommy looked at Cassy, “Do you Mommy?”
Cassy shrugged, “Sure, I guess so, I gotta turn around.” She turned on her signal and pulled into the left turn lane. “I don’t know much about paintings and stuff,” she said.
“You don’t need to know anything, except what you like and what you don’t like,” Jack said excited now at the prospect of going through the museum with her.
She did a small U-turn and drove back to the Museum. She parked in the side lot and turned off the engine. Jack opened the door but Cassy didn’t get out. She turned and looked at him, “Me and Tommy ain’t never been to Boston or New York and we don’t know nothin’ about art!”
“That’s okay,” Jack said, not quite understanding.
“You better not make us feel stupid in here,” she said, her eyes fixed on him.
Jack laughed nervously, “I promise! I couldn’t make you feel stupid even if I wanted to. No one can make you feel anything you don’t want to feel. Only you can do that.”
“You sound just like the Old Man,” she said opening the door and sliding out.
Much to his objection, they put Mercutio in the cab with the doors locked and the windows cracked enough to allow air in. They could still hear him howling as they went into the building.
It was cool and dark and very quiet inside. Two jacketed attendants stood quietly to the side. There was a woman behind a desk across the entry way. She smiled invitingly at them. No one else was around. A sign behind the woman explained the fees for admittance. Jack dug in his pocket and withdrew some crumpled bills.
“I’ve got money,” Cassy said.
“Be my treat,” Jack said seeing he had just enough to cover them. Tommy craned his head around with curiosity while Jack paid and received the tickets. “Any special exhibits today?” Jack asked the woman.
The lady smiled, “There’s a C.S. Fly exhibit on the second floor.”
Jack frowned, “I don’t believe I know him,” he said.
“You don’t know C. S. Fly?” Cassy asked with mock seriousness.
“No I don’t. I guess my trolley doesn’t make every stop,” Jack laughed. “Do you want to tell me?”
“I wouldn’t want to stop this lady from doing her job,” Cassy grinned.
The lady’s smile had remained in place as her eyes went from one to the other, “Well,” she said when they both looked back to her, “C.S. Fly was a prominent Arizona photographer in the late 1800”s. He had a studio in Tombstone right next to the OK Corral, but was best known for his amazing photographs of our indigenous peoples.”
“Indigenous,” Cassy said.
“Indians,” Jack said.
“They got Indians here?” Tommy asked.
“Right upstairs,” Jack said. He nodded to the lady, “Thank you Ma’am.”
“Thank the lady, Tommy,” Cassy said.
“Thank you Ma’am,” Tommy said copying Jack. He reached up and took Jack’s hand. Cassy smiled. With Jack and Tommy leading the way they started into the museum. They worked their way down the hallway, occasionally pausing and looking at pieces on the wall. Most of them were very old landscapes and portraits. There was one of the Gilbert Stuart copies of George Washington.
“Looks like a dollar bill,” Cassy said.
“Just like,” Jack agreed, but didn’t say more.
They moved into a room that showcased oriental art. It was filled with glass cases full of vases and dining ware. A mannequin stood behind a tall glass case sporting a kimono and a coal black geisha wig with long wooden hair pins in it. Cassy studied it a long time. Jack and Tommy waited patiently by the door, ready to move on.
“Why would anybody wear something like that?” she finally said.
“That was their culture,” Jack explained.
“Well, I wouldn’t wear it,” she said moving by them without a backward glance.
They found the stairs and climbed to the second floor. They passed through a long hallway sporting seventeenth century portraits with half the women clothed in lavish gowns and the other half either nude or partially so.
“Why are all these women fat,” Cassy asked.
Jack chuckled, “It was the fashion of the day. Back then a plump woman was considered very beautiful.”
“Wish it was the fashion now,” Cassy said. “I’d just eat like a horse.”
“Mommy!” Tommy whispered. “You can see their boobies.”
Jack choked back a laugh.
“Yeah, Jack,” Cassy said accusingly. “Why’d you bring my son in here anyway?”
Jack leaned over and whispered to Tommy, “A gentleman pretends not to notice. We’re just supposed to nod very appreciatively, and judge it only as a work of art.”
Tommy studied the nudes another moment, looked at Jack then skipped on ahead.
“Works of art, my ass,” Cassy said softly. “You’re just like every other man, you just want to look at a naked woman.”
“My cover as an intellectual snob is blown,” Jack said. “I’m just here for the boobies!”
Cassy laughed out loud. She reached out and took his arm and gave him a warm squeeze completely unaware of her breast pressing against the back of his arm. Jack covered her hand with his and squeezed it in return. He felt a warm flush run through him.
Cassy released his arm. They turned and followed Tommy down the hall. Cassy looked at the other pieces but Jack could tell they didn’t interest her.
Entering a room several feet ahead, Tommy stopped dead in his tracks then turned excitedly back to them. “Mommy, Indians!” he exclaimed.
“Indigenous,” Cassy said.
