The Interview

(Lawson)

It’s six in the morning and I’m pacing my kitchen. Skye’s ignored all my phone calls and texts. There’s no point in going over there just to sit in her driveway and stare at a closed door again.

But there’s no fucking way I’m giving up on getting her back.

Before Skye, I lived my life alone. Sure I have my sisters, but they’re the only ones I could relate to.

All the other women I’ve dated were only interested in my money, so I used them for a good time. Not once did I ever connect with one of them. They were either shallow or vacuous or only interested in agreeing with whatever I said for fear of pissing me off.

Skye’s different. She isn’t afraid to challenge me, or offend me. I love how passionate she is about life, and how much she cares about other people. Skye keeps me grounded, and constantly reminds me how privileged I am. Plus she keeps my head from getting too big.

I could listen to the sound of her laugh for all eternity.

Not to mention the sounds she makes when I have her in my arms.

I’d given up on ever finding anyone. Figured it wasn’t in the cards for me to ever get married. I was fine with that, until I met Skye.

Now I can’t imagine my life without her in it. More than anything, I want to share my life with her, in all her crazy artistic glory.

I chew my nails down to the point of pain while I try to think of a way to fix the situation. I keep coming back to one thing: Skye thinks I’ve ruined her career. The best way forward is to give her career a real boost.

It’s almost seven and I phone my assistant.

“Hi Lawson.”

“Hey, I’m just checking on the Skye Simmons paintings, does the gallery have more in yet?”

“I asked Gordon to phone me as soon as anything comes in.”

“Phone him and ask, just in case he’s forgotten.”

“Sure thing.”

“Great, thanks. Make it a priority and let me know as soon as you talk to him.”

I end the call but can’t put the phone down. My housekeeper pours me another cup of coffee and I retreat to my home office.

The gallery doesn’t open for at least two hours. This may well be the longest two hours of my life. I can’t even think about how long the rest of the day will be. I’m almost tempted to drive over to Skye’s, but come to my senses. It would only be a useless trip to sit in her driveway.

Instead, I try to distract myself with work. That lasts thirty minutes before I descend into creating a battle plan for taking down Kelso.

The gallery may not be open yet, but Julie always is.

“Ugh, isn’t it too early for a phone call from you?” my sister says into the phone, her voice groggy.

“I needed to update you on a situation.”

“Lovely. Good morning to you too.”

“Good morning. From now on, my objective is to suck every penny from Kelso I can. I don’t want to settle. I don’t give a shit about making it neat and tidy, I want to bankrupt the asshole.”

“Fucking hell, Lawson. Really?” she whines.

“Yes, really. Why are you complaining? You’ll be able to retire from the extra legal fees.”

“It’s going to take years.”

“No skin off my nose. I need you to set me up a secondary company for me, from now on all new hotels will be run through it. As for the old stuff, I know I’m guaranteed to win, so tie up this thing and grind him down as much and for as long as you can.”

“This sounds personal,” she says and sighs.

“Absolutely.”

“Care to fill me in on the situation? As your lawyer, I need to make sure this is in your best interest. And as your sister, I need to make sure you’re okay.”

I quickly fill her in, leaving out the finer details of our time in Kelso’s bedroom.

“Fine. Since I think this’ll blow over and you’ll change your mind about it, I’ll send him a letter today notifying him that the offer to settle has been rescinded.”

“Perfect, I can always count on you.”

“Uh-huh.”

We talk a little longer, mostly about Skye but also about Kelso. I even told Julie how I showed Skye my room dedicated to my charity. If she’d had any doubts about my vendetta against Kelso, they’re gone now.

I hang up and checked my watch. The gallery still wouldn’t be open for at least an hour. I force myself to concentrate on my work.

The new luxury hotel that I just opened locally is doing far better than I’d anticipated. I was supposed to go by yesterday afternoon and meet with the manager, before the thing with Skye happened. After some deliberation, I decide to go by today as a way to distract myself from her.

“Lawson,” I say answering the phone. I know it’s my assistant, but it’s how I always answer.

“I just spoke with Gordon. He doesn’t have any more of her work yet. And he’s got a waiting list. Plus, two of those people have demanded rights to outbid other buyers.”

“Holy shit, that’s awesome.”

“Awesome? It’s going to cost you way more. I told him to add me to the list of people with the right to bid.”

“Nevermind. Thanks for doing that. Julie will be contacting you soon about a new direction with the lawsuit.”

I hang up.

The news has given me the first hope I’ve felt since Skye shut the door on me. Drumming my fingers, my mind starts to race on what I can do with the news. I phone back my assistant.

“Yeah?”

“Can you take me out of the bidding war? I have several by her already.” The real reason is I don’t want Skye to be able to say that she’s only selling paintings because I’m buying them.

“Okay,” she says, sounding confused.

“But what I want you to do is set up a profile piece on her in the next Heywood Magazine.” We put a glossy magazine in all the rooms of our higher-end hotels.

“I’ll get on that.”

“And make sure they make it as glowing as possible. Have them include good photos of my pieces by her.”

“Sure thing.”

This time when I hang up, I’m actually smiling. I sit for a few minutes, visualizing the magazine spread on her. Our clients are all loaded and many love buying up new artists. If that won’t be a boost for her, I don’t know what will be.

I’m about to change to head over to my newest hotel when a thought hits me. After a few minutes of Googling, I pick up my phone again.

“Hello,” says a groggy voice.

“Hello, is that Gale Simmons?”

“Speaking.”

“My name is Lawson and I’m writing a feature article on your daughter for Heywood Magazine, and wondered if I could interview you for the piece.”

“You’re what?”

“Skye Simmons, the artist, is your daughter?”

“Yes.”

“She’s one of the hottest artists on the scene right now. People all around the country are on waiting lists to outbid each other for her work.”

“They are?”

“You’re her mother, are you not aware of that?”

“I haven’t spoken with her in a while.”

“Why’s that?” Will she admit the real reason? I doubt it, but I would like to hear it pass her lips.

“Oh, we lost touch after she moved to California.”

“How sad. You must miss her a lot. I bet she misses you too.”

“Yes, an awful lot. I just never…” her voice trails off.

“Well, what was it like having such a phenomenally talented child? What age did she start to show her promise?”

“Oh, she always loved to color.”

“I’ve interviewed many artists over the years, and know how important it is for the artist to be supported by family and friends. Was Skye able to count on you?”

“Oh, uh, we’ve always been impressed with her abilities.” Whatever, liar.

“Can you give me a soundbite for the article?”

“Let me think. Skye always had a crayon in her hand from the time she was a toddler. Her whole life, all she ever wanted to do was draw and paint. She had no interest in doing things like going to the prom, only paint, paint, paint.”

“That’s great. I’m going to be interviewing her next, is there anything you want me to ask her?” If she doesn’t get the hint now, I’m going to have to spell it out slowly for her.

“Just tell her how proud I am of her. And that she was right for following her dreams.”

“Gale, that’s the kind of thing you really should tell her yourself.”

She is quiet for a few seconds. We talk for a few more minutes before I end the call. Satisfied, I head over to meet with the manager at my new hotel.