“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’.