“Hello?”
“Skye? It’s Kevin.” A huge pit opens in my stomach. He never calls.
“Hi, is everything okay?”
“It’s really hard for me to do this, but we don’t need you to come in this week.”
“What about next week?”
“We’ll see how we manage without you. But that little stunt on Saturday was a serious misconduct.”
“I’m sorry, he kissed me.”
“It looked pretty mutual from where I was standing.”
Fuck. Depressed, the only thing I can do once we hang up is check my messages on the art website. Nothing. I grab a rag and scrub the floor, and continue long after all trace of the spilled brown paint is gone.
Still on my hands and knees, my phone rings again. What bad news is it this time?
“Hello,” I say, my voice flat.
“This is Kelso Wilson. You replied to my message about the commissioned pieces.”
“Yes, hi, thanks for calling,” I say, suddenly much more cheery.
“I’m building a fifteen-thousand-square-foot home and want original artwork for it. Right now I anticipate ten paintings, though it might change depending on the size you feel the space needs. The pay would be five grand a painting.” His voice is stern, and more like a command than a request.
“That sounds like something I would be interested in, yes. Who covers the cost of the supplies?” My heart is pounding. Fifty grand? Holy shit. I’m saved!
“I’d cover all costs. But I’d need you to paint on-site. I want each work created in the room it’s going to hang in.”
“As long as you’re local.”
“And one more thing — I’d need you to start right away. The last person I had bailed on me, and now the work is behind.”
“I could start tomorrow, if you want.”
We exchange details and I hang up. My hand trembles as I put the phone back on the easel tray. Fuck you Kevin. I won’t tell him that yet, though, just in case this falls through.
Now, how pissed is Ava going to be when I tell her about the commission? I walk through the house looking for her, and find her sitting on the couch in the living room, busy with her needlework. It’s a huge image of a local tent city and is a project she’s been working on for eight years now. She expects it to take at least that many more to finish.
“How’s the new project coming?” she asks. A pang of guilt hits my chest.
“I have some exciting news.” I try not to sound quite as excited as I am.
“What are you waiting for? Tell me!”
“I’ve just been commissioned to paint ten pieces for a new mansion that’s being built.”
Her eyes widen, and I worry it’s for disappointment in me selling out.
“That’s fantastic, I’m so proud of you.” She hops up and hugs me.
“It doesn’t make me a sellout?”
“No, silly, artists throughout time have painted pieces for their big houses. It’s our way of sucking as much money out of the rich bastards as we can. But I tell you what you should do, make him fund a gallery exhibit for you as part of the deal.”
My shoulders relax at her words of approval.
A gallery exhibit — that would be the real break I need. It would get my name out there, not like locking me away in some mansion.
Excitement bubbles over and I can’t help myself, I start jumping up and down. Soon Ava is as well, and we jump up and down in a little circle.
Lost and Found
(Lawson)
It’s been a nightmare this week dealing with the launch of my latest luxury hotel. Not only did that fuckface Kelso not finish the bathrooms, I’m sure he didn’t finish them out of spite.
Instead I had to go ahead and open with only half of the rooms available.
Meanwhile it’s local. It’s going to be something of a flagship hotel for me. My first hotel without Kelso.
Julie and his lawyer have been banging heads all week, but I’d had enough. Kelso didn’t meet his end of the agreement, and as far as I’m concerned that’s all any judge is going to need to hear.
No longer willing to mess around, I went out and hired a whole new construction company to finish the job. After dangling the carrot of working with me regularly, I’ve got them to promise me to work day and night to meet the launch party.
When I stepped into the shower on Saturday morning, I realized I hadn’t even had a chance to think about Skye all week. Sweet Skye. Just thinking about her makes my dick hard, and that’s all the encouragement I need to grab it.
I remember her soft lips and the way my arms completely enveloped her. The bumps of her breasts as they pushed into my chest. Most of all that laugh. Fuck, that laugh. It was orgasmic. The thought of drawing a sound like that out of her as I pound her makes my dick explode.