Bianca

“Thirty days to come up with how much?” I squeak, shocked that this is even happening. My home that I have shared with my Grans is in jeopardy of being taken away.

“Three hundred thousand dollars.”

“For what? What could she have possibly needed that money for?” I sit, waiting for an answer. This has to be a mistake. Right? Grans made sure everything was taken care of.

“Well, let me see if they made notes on the original paperwork.” He starts scrolling through the computer screen. “We upgraded our files last year.” Scrolling. Scrolling. “They’ve now been digitalized.”

“That’s nice.”

Please be wrong. Please be wrong. Please be wrong.

“Looks like she needed it to pay for four years of art school for her granddaughter.”

“That’s me.”

She told me not to worry. That she had saved for it.

“Yes, Miss Black.” He swivels in his chair, facing me, hands on desk. “Bianca…may I call you Bianca?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I know this is a tough situation for you, but here’s my best piece of advice.” His face softens a little and this is where he tells me my options. The ones that keep replaying in my head. The ones that I refuse to listen to. “Your grandmother’s building is in a prime location. Sell it, pay the loan and pocket the rest of the money.”

“Sir, I can’t do that.”

“Bia—”

“It’s the only thing I have left. That building was her dream for me. Sir, if I gave up now, then it would be like giving up on everything she provided for me.”

“I understand. I really do.” He leans forward. “But if this loan isn’t paid in full in thirty days, then you lose the building altogether. The dream will be gone.”

“So pay up or give up.”

“Yes. For lack of better words…you’ve been dealt a shitty hand.”

He doesn’t even realize how true those words are. This morning, my hair dryer blew a fuse, the water heater gave out and a freaking bird flew in the window, taking up residence on the top floor. There’s now bird shit everywhere.

“I’m not giving up.” I stand, offering my hand. “I have thirty days.”

“Yes, Bianca.” He takes it, giving it a little shake and squeeze. “I really hope this works out for you.”

“It will!”

It has to.

 

**********

 

If I could just get the gallery up and running before the note is due, then maybe, just maybe, I might be able to make enough to pay off the loan.

Standing in the middle of my soon-to-be-gallery, I admire my work. Each piece I have completed in this collection is on display, waiting to be viewed and acquired by someone who shares my vision.

Straightening the pieces, I know something is missing. The room…it’s cold and devoid of color. I need to find the money to clean this place up, make it appealing to the eye so it will enhance my pieces, but I can’t do that until I have the loan paid off. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.

Hearing the door chime, I see a sexy-as-hell guy walking through the door, distracted, on the phone. Hair cut a little close, bright baby blues and a suit that was fitted just for him.

“Yep, I’m here now. I’m pretty sure the deal will go through and this place will be all ours. Spotlight will soon be expanding to Manhattan and San Francisco. It’s just a matter—” He turns around, catching sight of me standing here watching him. “Hey, James, looks like the Realtor is here. Let me call you back later.” He ends the call, taking a minute to eye me up and down.

“Hello, can I help you?” I keep my distance, not sure why he’s here. He could be some crazy stalker serial killer dude. I mean, he doesn’t have the glasses — you know, the nerdy kind that all serial killers seem to have. Well, maybe they all don’t have them, but all the freaky ones do. This guy…he doesn’t.

“Hello. I’m Ford Phillips.” He stalks toward me with purpose. “I’m your two o’clock.”

“I’m sorry? My two o’clock?”

“Shit! Don’t tell me the bank failed to call. I know I’m a last-minute add in, but they told me you would be willing to stick around.” Bringing his phone back to life, he starts to dial a number. “Hey, James. Looks like she wasn’t expecting me. Did you send over my information?” He turns around lowering his voice, but I can still hear him so I really don’t know what the point was. “I need in this building today. Yes, of course. I’ll have it sent over. Thank you.”

“Sir, I’m sorry but…”

“I have my guy sending over my information to your agency. The bank is fully aware that I’m looking at the building and am ready to move forward. So if you could just stick around and show me the layout, that would be great.”

He thinks I’m the Realtor? I could either tell him the truth, or…I could convince him this place is a dump and not worth his time. Which isn’t too far from the truth. I mean, it does have its issues, but it’s totally repairable. Not that he needs to know that part.

“Of course! Would you like to see the good or go straight to the bad?”

“The bad?” His brow furrows.

“What kind of Realtor would I be if I didn’t fully disclose this information?” I give him my sweetest smile while I’m mentally throwing all the middle fingers his way.

“Just give me a quick tour.” He loosens his tie and undoes a few buttons, allowing a little chest hair to peek through.

Stop it, B. No time to think about what’s under there.

“Follow me.” I lead him toward the basement, flipping on the light, knowing it won’t turn on. “Oh! I completely forgot. This place is wired all wrong. I’m pretty sure the basement light is over here.” I walk over to the other side of the room hitting the dimmer. “Bingo! We have light.”

“Is it like this throughout the whole building?” He walks around flipping all the switches.

“Yes,” I say, walking right past him.

Bianca – 1, Ford – 0

 

**********

 

Ford

Unbelievable! It’s going to be a hell of a lot more work than I had anticipated, but worth every penny. Even with the added expenses.

“Maybe it’s not as bad as it seems.” I try to stay positive. Electrical issues could be costly, but I have a few friends who owe me favors. Time to call those in.

“Between you and me, this place seems like a dump. A real money pit.” She walks over to one of the paintings and straightens it.

Interesting.

“Whose are those?” I run my hand over the canvases and the Realtor shoots me an irritated look.

“Please, Mr. Phillips, I’m sure the artist wouldn’t appreciate your fingerprints all over their treasures, devaluing them.”

Getting a closer look, I notice the artist’s signature, BB. Holy shit, it’s the old lady’s granddaughter. Glancing over at the so-called Realtor I realize that she is her. BB.

“So, this BB…is he a local artist?”

“What makes you think it’s a man?” she questions, hand on her hip.

Yep! It’s her. This should be fun.

“Well, look at this.” I point to the brush strokes. “Not very graceful. It’s lacking the feminine touch.” I shake my head and go in for the dig. “It’s a little too paint-by-numbers for my taste.”

“Actually…you know what? Maybe we should just look at the rest of the place.” She takes off for the kitchen, leaving me behind.

I head after her, but the door chiming catches my attention. Turning, I see a woman carrying a couple files walk in.

“You must be Ford Phillips.” She pushes her glasses up. “I’m sorry I’m late, but I had an errand to run.”

Busted!

“It’s not a problem, I’m pretty familiar with these types of places. If you don’t care, I’m just going to walk around.”

“That’s fine. If you need me or have any questions, I’ll be right here, going through some paperwork for the bank.”

“Thank you.” I head for the kitchen to find out exactly what BB is up to.

Pushing through the kitchen doors I notice her looking out the back windows. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe I got your name?”

“Uhh I-I’m sorry?” She takes her time turning around.

“Your name?” I say, slower this time.

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry, I thought I had.” She walks over, holding out her hand. “Bianca Black.”

BB. I knew it.

“Bianca Black,” I repeat, taking her hand. I’m not prepared for the feeling; her touch is electrifying.

“Oh! I’m…” She tries to jerk her hand back, but I pull her in.

Face to face.

Chest to chest.

“What are you trying to pull…BB?”

“Excuse me?” Her eyes go wide.

“Bianca Black, BB…the granddaughter of Angela Morgan…”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” She tries to look away.

“Look at me.” I bring my free hand up, lifting her chin.

“Game over.”