SWNOVELS Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE DIEGO THE CYNIC
He abruptly snatched up a brush and slopped a great crimson streak across the delicate floral shapes, oblivious to Agnes’s sharp intake of breath. “This is how one awakens the senses! With bold, fearless strokes imprinting one’s indelible artistic stamp upon the-”
“Dude, what the hell?” Marcus’s cynical tone cut through as he shot Diego an incredulous look. “That was a total dick move, man.”
“Marcel is correct,” Penelope interceded in her precisely–enunciated tone. She leveled a firm look at Diego.
“Defacing another’s work, especially one of Agnes’s caliber, is not only shockingly rude but emblematic of why your ‘fearless‘ antics are merely a pretentious smokescreen for insecurity.”
Her words lanced through Diego’s blustery bravado like a pinprick in a balloon. For a long beat, he could only gape at her, mouth working furiously.
“How… dare you…” he finally sputtered, checks flushing an unattractive mottled red. “You…you pathetically blind, unimaginative-
“That’s enough.
Jasmine’s voice sliced through his toxic tirade, quiet but laced with steel. All eyes turned towards her as she stared Diego down, arms folded over her chest.
“I realize your passion for art can manifest itself in…unorthodox ways,” she began levelly. “But that gives you no right to belittle my students‘ work or browbeat them into some stringent dogma about what constitutes true creative expression.”
She saw his nostrils flare, but pressed on undeterred. “We’re all here to explore art through our own personal lenses and grow together. If you can’t respect that mission, then I’m afraid you and I are simply too philosophically misaligned for this partnership to be productive,”
A tense hush fell over the room as Diego visibly struggled to regain his composure. When he finally spoke, his tone was clipped and acrid.
“Well. If the great Jasmine Delacroix has deemed me unworthy, then I suppose I have no choice but to remove my passionate personna non grata from these clearly prosaic proceedings.”
With an overly dramatic flourish, he snatched up his satchel and aimed one last withering look around the room. “Paint on, you beiges little wallflowers. Safe in your artistic mediocrity.”
Before anyone could respond, he pivoted sharply on his heel and stormed out, the door banging shut behind him with finality. A profound silence lingered in his wake.
Jasmine let out a slow, calming exhalation, attempting to rein in her simmering frustration. Settling her gaze upon her shell–shocked students, she aimed for a reassuring smile.
“Well, now that the theatrics are dispensed with, why don’t we push past all that negative energy and simply enjoy the process of creation, hmm?”
Slowly, almost tentatively at first, her students began murmuring in assent and reapplying brushes to canvases: As Jasmine circulated to offer guidance and support, she could sense the–tension gradually dissipating, replaced by an aura of quiet artistic focus and motivation.
By the time class wrapped up, she felt they had all achieved a sense of grounding and perspective once more. As Agnes gathered her supplies with a small, wistful smile, Jasmine moved to inspect the streaked remnants of the other woman’s floral scene.
“I’m so sorry about Diego defacing your beautiful work, Agnes,” she said sincerely. “I’ll try to have a replicant print made from the center’s archives, so you can have it preserved properly before-”
200
“Oh pish, my dear, think nothing of it!” Agnes flapped one mittened hand airily, not a trace of rancor on her cherubic features.
“That overstuffed blowhard’s fit was merely the desperate embers of a mediocre flame struggling not to be extinguished entirely. I’ve weathered far worse tantrums from infinitely bigger personalities in my opera diva days.”
She winked conspiratorially at Jasmine, giving her arm a companionable pat. “Mark my words – once he slinks off to desperately reignite himself, we who endure will be here still, calmly tending our inner fires. As it should be.”
Her magnanimous words helped bolster Jasmine’s spints somewhat. Gathering her own tote, she exchanged warm farewells with the others before exiting into the fading spring light.
Though the tensions had been defused for now, the confrontation with Diego’s theatrical toxicity still weighed heavily, leaving Jasmine feeling emotionally drained in a way she hadn’t quite anticipated. She found herself eager for the comfort of a friendly audience to help process everything
It was a short walk to the cozy cafe where she and Beth typically met up after Jasmine’s volunteer hours. Sure enough, her dear friend was already ensconced in their usual spotted corner table, sipping a frothy cappuccino and scrolling through her laptop.
“Hey, you,” Jasmine greeted, sliding into the worn paisley armchair across from Beth with a weary smile. The sleek blonde looked up, instantly registering her friend’s subdued mood with a concerned furrow of her finely arched brows. “Rough class today, I take it?”
Jasmine simply gave a humorless chuckle, shrugging out of her jacket as Beth waved over the barista to place her usual order. As the chipper young woman bustled off, Jasmine leaned in with a heavy sigh.
“You have no idea. Where do I even start?”
“The beginning is always a solid strategy,” Beth replied pragmatically, mouth quirking at one corner. Jasmine shot her a wry look, but obediently began recounting the day’s insanely over–the–top events and confrontations with Diego in full, embellished detail.
Beth proved an avid audience, alternately gaping and snorting with incredulous laughter at all the appropriately outrageous moments.
“Okay, I literally cannot even picture a human being that extra actually existing,” she proclaimed, shaking her head in bemused disbelief as Jasmine’s tale finally wound down.
The barista had long since delivered Jasmine’s London Fog, wisps of steam wafting up untouched from the ceramic mug
“I honestly wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t been there,” Jasmine admitted, cupping the toasty beverage between her palms.
The familiar ritual of her first few sips helped soothe her frayed nerves slightly. “Diego was always pretty flamboyant and grandiose, but today he was just off–the–rails unhinged.”
Beth pursed her perfectly tinted lips contemplatively. “Well, it obviously seems like this whole artistic dictatorship complex he’s got going on is deeply rooted in his own insecurities.”
She sat back, emerald eyes knowing. “My armchair psych take? This guy’s clearly threatened by a talented
newcomer like vou potentially stealing his faux–profound thunder. Especially with the caliber of praise and acclaim you’ve gotten for your work.”
Jasmine felt her shoulders slump slightly at the astute observation. As much as Diego’s histrionics had grated on her last nerve, she couldn’t deny a pang of sympathy for him too.
“I suppose I can understand that, to an extent,” she mused, tracing the mug’s handle with her index finger. “Criticism is hard for any artist to digest, valid or not. And I did sort of get catapulted onto the scene out of nowhere, at least from an outside perspective.”
Beth made a disparaging clicking sound with her tongue. Sure, but that neurotic drama–king took it, like, ten hipster poseur levels too far. He essentially had a public tantrum hissy fit about it.”
One of her slender hands reached across to grasp Jasmine’s, her voice gentling. “Look, you’ve worked ridiculously hard for every accolade and ounce of success that’s come your way. Diego’s pathological need for attention doesn’t diminish that fact, or your right to embrace it.”
Warmth blossomed in Jasmine’s chest at her friend’s words. Beth always did have an uncanny knack for grounding her in a way that didn’t condescend, but rather recentered her sense of self-assurance.
“You’re absolutely right,” she said, squeezing Beth’s fingers gratefully before sitting up a tad straighter I’m certainly not going to allow myself be bullied or quilt–tripped out of sharing my passion just because one narcissist can’t handle sharing the spotlight.”
She lifted her chin, feeling reinvigorated. “If Diego wants to wallow in his self–created misery, then that’s his loss. I’m going to keep doing what I love and not let his toxic ego drag me down.”
The corners of Beth’s ruby–painted mouth ticked upwards approvingly. “Damn straight. That superiority complex of his was inevitably going to implode from its own grandiose delusions anyway.”
She raised her mug in a mock toast. “Here’s to letting the arrogant gaslight themselves while real artists keep pursuing their truth.”
Chuckling, Jasmine clinked her ceramic against Beth’s in agreement.