"Good morning, how are you?" I ask in my waitress voice.
"Let me give you a tour of the rooms I want pieces done in. The first one will be for here, right by the door. And make it nice and big so people notice it." The rich bastard couldn't even be bothered with an ‘I'm fine.' Smile and nod, I remind myself.
"Do you have a subject matter in mind?"
"I'll leave that up to you, after all, you're the artist." I'm surprised he doesn't demand something in the Rococo style. As least I can choose what I want to paint.
"Great, I'm full of ideas already." Though I doubt he'd appreciate them.
"Let me show you the rest of the rooms. Just watch out for the workmen. The house should've been finished by now, but the work got behind. I've already moved in so have a few rooms I'm living in, but the rest is still a work in progress."
Kelso leads me through room after room on his ground floor. Most of the rooms are empty, but a few are furnished and appear to be fully finished.
On the ground floor, he wants paintings in the entrance, family room, dining room and office. Plus three in the hallway and two in the living room.
"That's nine, did you say you wanted ten?"
"Yeah, another upstairs, but I don't have time to show you now. Start the one in the entrance now," he says, his voice stern. Okay, guess I'm just another employee here. That's okay: for fifty grand and a gallery show, I can deal with him.
I spend the morning in the entrance, examining the space and light and generating ideas in my notebook. My plan was to knock out these paintings as fast as possible and never have to come to this shrine of wealth again.
At noon, I pull my sandwich from my purse and sit on the bottom step to eat my lunch. The workmen have all gone somewhere else for their lunch. The rich bastard probably doesn't let them eat in his house.
"Skye, there you are," Kelso says, coming down the stairs behind me.
Gathering my sandwich, water and purse in my hands, I jump up and stand to the side.
"I'm just grabbing a quick bite. I've already come up with several ideas for this space."
"That's great, really. How do you like the house? Does it make you wet?" My eyes flare. What did he just say? Did I hear him wrong?
"It's a nice house."
"It must make you horny. Money makes all women horny." My chest heaves and my hands tense so much my sandwich becomes nothing but a ball of bread and ham. Fifty grand. Fifty grand. Ava's remortgage. Smile and nod. Smile and nod.
"Uh, I'd better get back to work now. I have to grab some supplies from my car."
"Not yet, I'm going to show you the upstairs painting location first."
"Oh, okay." In my trembling, my water bottle and purse slide off my arm and to the floor. I'm left with a ball of a former half-eaten sandwich in my fist. I relax my hand, and the food plops to the floor.
"Follow me." Before I can say anything else, he's halfway up the staircase.
My feet heavy, I trudge up the steps. We go through a set of double doors. I gulp when I see a huge, round bed.
"This is my bedroom, isn't it hot?"
I take my eyes off the round bed long enough to glance around the room. It's all red walls with accents of zebra and tiger. Leopard-print scarves are even draped over the bedside lamps. Gag.
"Is this where you want the last piece?" I need to keep this all about business.
"Yeah. I want a hot piece of ass right over the bed."
"Excuse me?"
"Something to look at when I don't have a chick over." What the fucking fuck?
"You know, all the things I like to do to a pretty girl like you. Do you prefer doggy style or sucking cock?" His eyes bore into me as he speaks.
My feet shift to run, but I remember Ava's voice on the phone. Why can't you remortgage my property? I can't leave. Smile and nod, smile and nod.
"Usually erotic art only depicts the female on her own."
"Fine, you're the expert. But I want her spread eagle, and lifelike. I've seen your art, your paintings are often like photographs. I want every fold front and center. Maybe have her fingering herself too. Yeah, that's definitely what I want."
"As you wish. I'm getting behind on the entrance piece now, I really have to get back to it." My heart pounding, I turn and flee the room. Kelso bursts out laughing.
Asshole! He thinks money gives him the right to mess with me like that? I'm going to work anti-wealth and anti-Kelso themes into every piece in this house. Even the spread eagle one. Especially the spread eagle one.
As soon as the sun sets, I get the hell out of there. I'll sketch out ideas for the other paintings at home. I don't need the light for that. Right now, I plan to avoid Kelso as much as possible.
"Well, how was it?" Ava asks when I walk in the front door.
"The guy is a first-rate asshole."
"That's to be expected; he is rich, after all. Money makes people lose their humanity."
I consider telling Ava about the comments Kelso made in the bedroom, but decide against it in case she tries to stop me from going back. I have to go back; it's a huge amount of money, and a gallery show.
"I'm going to do some more work so I can get this over with as quickly as possible."
There's no point going into my studio since I'm still at the sketching phase. Instead, I prop myself up on my bed and start to draw. There must be a way for me to work what an asshole Kelso is into my work, I just have to figure it out.
The way I generate ideas is to let my mind phase out of focus and allow my hand to do the work. Before too long, I realize I'm drawing the tattooed arms of the hot guy from the restaurant.
He was exactly everything Kelso is not: an honest, hardworking, regular guy instead of some rich asshole. My hand drops the pencil and slides between my legs while memories of that kiss form in my head.
Not-So-Chance Encounter
(Lawson)
I spent all Monday going over all the legal points with Julie and her team. I have to make Kelso see the light and settle. He's only going to lose any case that goes to court, and that's going to cost him.
First thing Tuesday, I'm straight back at Julie's fancy pants legal offices. An hour after the gallery opens, I get a text from my assistant.
He only has six of her paintings.
Did you buy them?
Of course.
Perfect. Find out her contact details.
He's being difficult, and won't give them to me for ‘security reasons'.
Tell him I want to commission six more.
The gallery owner claims he won't give out Skye's contact for the security of his artists, but I'm sure he just wants to make sure he isn't cut out of any future commission.
Surely if a client is buying every damn painting an artist produces, that artist would want to meet the client. I figure I'll go down there the minute I get a chance to talk some sense into the guy.
Part of me is surprised Skye hasn't phoned me. I can only assume she hasn't been back in contact with her dick of a manager at Johnny's. That's okay, I'll track her down through the gallery, but it'd better be sooner rather than later. I'll tell him if he wants to sell me any more of her paintings, he'd better arrange a meet and greet pretty damn fast.
Julie and I spent the rest of the day in meetings. Hours of legalese isn't my idea of a good time, and I find my mind wandering to Skye and all the things I'm going to do to her when I find her.
"Lawson. Lawson," Julie says, snapping me from my daydream and back into the meeting. This isn't like me and I don't like it one bit. No woman has distracted me from my work before. I've got to track her down.
It's almost seven by the time I get out of Julie's offices. I head home and hop in the shower, sloughing the day from my skin. Refreshed, I pull on a pair of jeans and the first T-shirt I see in my dressing room.
My mind is working the whole time on finding Skye. My assistant is good, but I have a feeling I'll get further with the gallery owner than she did.
According to their website, the Piek Gallery closes at eight. It'll be tight to get there in time, but it's worth a shot. I fold into my Maserati and plug in the GPS co-ordinates.
The gallery is in an old-fashioned street-front store. There's no parking lot, and all the street parking is taken. Fuck. It closes in five minutes and I've gotta hurry.
A car is leaving a couple hundred yards away. I push my foot on the gas to claim it before anyone else can steal it on me. Not even bothering to straighten it out, I climb out and hurry down the sidewalk, and instantly something catches my eye.
Skye? Fuck me. I blink to make sure I'm not seeing things. Sure enough, my beautiful Skye is walking down the sidewalk, straight toward me. She's wearing a cute little sundress that wakes up my dick. I thought she'd looked hot in the tight skirt and T-shirt at the restaurant but this is a whole new level.
"Skye, fancy seeing you here."
She snaps out of her trance and her eyes widen when she looks at me.
"Oh my God! Hi, how are you? What are you doing here?"
She is in danger of rambling, so I cut her off. "Just picking something up. What are you doing here?"
"I just got the most exciting news, and I was celebrating. You'll never guess what happened!"
I wait for her to carry on before realizing she wants me to say something. Do I tell her I have a pretty good idea what it is?"
"What happened?" I ask, not wanting to spoil her moment.
"Some rich lady came in and bought all my paintings at the gallery! She specifically asked for me! My name is getting out!" Tears of excitement prick the corners of her eyes. Her face is beaming with happiness. All because of me.