In bed that night, I toss and turn. At some point I decide to go to Kelso’s in the morning. I’ll take a taxi, since my car is there. If he’s home, I’ll work downstairs. If not, I’ll sneak into the bedroom and do a rush job finishing the spread eagle. No one’s going to see it anyway, it doesn’t have to be perfect.
In the morning, Ava is already gone. She’s meeting with Gordon, again. Sometimes I think there’s more going on between them than a shared interest in local art.
The taxi lets me out in front of Kelso’s door. I pay the driver out of the three-hundred-dollar tip money Lawson had given me at the diner. Already I’m in a bad mood, remembering how he gave me money way back then because he liked me and not because I earned it.
I hear Kelso’s voice coming down the hallway. Remembering Lawson’s concerns, it’s best if I work on the temple painting. That way I’m close to the door in case there’s a problem.
But first, I have to get my things from the bedroom. I take off my shoes and tiptoe up the stairs. Kelso hasn’t touched any of my stuff. Maybe he didn’t sleep in here last night. Except the cover on the bed has been changed.
The spread eagle painting is nearly finished. The folds are complete, it’s just the outer edges, her toes, the tops of her torso and the background. I’ll do a rush job, it’ll only take a couple of hours.
But for now, I want to get out of the bedroom as fast as possible.
“I’m glad you came back,” Kelso says, startling me.
“I just had to get my bag, with my purse and keys.” I hold the bag up to show him, as proof.
“Now that I know you’re a little slut, let’s talk about your painting here.” He closes the distance between us. My heart pounds and I gulp, but he’s blocking the door and I have no escape.
“I am not a slut,” I say, trying to sound strong.
“Sugar,” he says, cupping my cheek, “we need to revisit the terms of our contract.”
“Huh?” I’m shaking under his touch, my eyes dart around the room, searching for a plan of escape.
“I say, we get in this bed and forget yesterday ever happened.”
Tears prick the corners of my eyes. Why did I come up here? If I’d stayed in the hallway and finished the temple, everything would’ve been fine.
“No,” I say, my voice weak. Kelso laughs, right in my face. He’s so close I can see his tongue move against his teeth.
“You’re playing in the big leagues now, Skye, normal rules don’t apply to people like us.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Surely you must realize Lawson only screwed you in this room as a way to get back at me.”
“That isn’t true.” Is it? “We’ve been dating, he cares about me.”
“Sweetheart, it’s not the first time he’s done that to me. Last month I walked into my office and he had my secretary bent over my desk. The secretary he knew I was fucking. He fucking hated her, he only did it when he knew I’d walk in on them.”
“I don’t believe you,” I say, my brow furrowed.
“I’ve known Lawson since he was twenty years old. Trust me, he’s a man who likes to fuck a different woman every week. And he gets extra excited when he fucks one he knows I’ve been after. Though, I admit, I do the same to him.”
Could that be true? I’d felt so connected to Lawson. Was it all a stupid lie I’d been naïve enough to buy into?
“No, Lawson cares about me.”
“Then he’ll be even more annoyed when I fuck you.”
The word fuck flings me into action.
“No!” I scream and break away from him, running for the door with my bag in my hand.
“If you leave here now, don’t plan on coming back. Our contract will be over.”
I slam the door shut and keep on running until I reach my car.
The entire drive home, only one sentence keeps running through my mind — Lawson only screwed you in here as a way to get back at me.
Go Slow
(Lawson)
I pull into Kelso’s driveway in my Maserati. I’ve come to make sure Skye isn’t here, and to protect her if she is. Because I plan to spend the day with Skye, I’m wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Not that I’m playing into her little good Lawson, prick Lawson thing, but because I want to be comfortable.
My heart sinks when Skye’s car is nowhere in sight. At least it means she’s no longer here. But she was here, and it fucking pains me to think why she came and left.
Skye wouldn’t just come to get her car. She would’ve come to paint.
I knew I should’ve come here first thing and waited, in case she showed up. Unfortunately I had a phone meeting with an investor in Europe that couldn’t be postponed.