Spread Eagle
(Skye)
On Monday morning, I switch off the engine of my rust bucket in the driveway of Kelso’s mansion. Mansion, ha. It’s big enough to house all the homeless people in a twenty-mile radius.
This is my first look at it. When I’d met Kelso to hash out our deal, it had been in Gordon’s gallery. Ava had suggested it, so that Gordon could overhear the arrangements and make sure Kelso wasn’t taking advantage of me.
I count eight massive three-story columns lining the front of the house, as if it’s some kind of Greek temple. It’s ugly and riles me. He’d better not expect my paintings to be so tacky.
I make my way to the door, with nothing but my purse over my shoulders. Gordon runs an art supply store beside his gallery and arranged for every supply I’d ever need to be sent to the house. All I have to do is show up. And try not to puke at the ostentatious display of wealth when there is such suffering in the world.
The front door is already open. I take a deep breath and step into the entrance. Or I should say lobby. Kelso and a workman are talking near the bottom of one of the two sets of staircases. Yes, the lobby is so big, two staircases start at either side of the lobby and wind their way up the three floors. Disgusting.
“Skye, welcome.”
Kelso stops talking to the workman and waddles over to me. Sweat droplets follow the line of his receding hairline, even though it’s cool in here. As he waddles, he wipes the sweat away with his hand, then offers the same hand to me to shake.
Feeling nausea, I take his offered hand in mine.
“Good morning, how are you?” I ask in my waitress voice.
“Let me give you a tour of the rooms I want pieces done in. The first one will be for here, right by the door. And make it nice and big so people notice it.” The rich bastard couldn’t even be bothered with an ‘I’m fine.’ Smile and nod, I remind myself.
“Do you have a subject matter in mind?”
“I’ll leave that up to you, after all, you’re the artist.” I’m surprised he doesn’t demand something in the Rococo style. As least I can choose what I want to paint.
“Great, I’m full of ideas already.” Though I doubt he’d appreciate them.
“Let me show you the rest of the rooms. Just watch out for the workmen. The house should’ve been finished by now, but the work got behind. I’ve already moved in so have a few rooms I’m living in, but the rest is still a work in progress.”
Kelso leads me through room after room on his ground floor. Most of the rooms are empty, but a few are furnished and appear to be fully finished.
On the ground floor, he wants paintings in the entrance, family room, dining room and office. Plus three in the hallway and two in the living room.
“That’s nine, did you say you wanted ten?”
“Yeah, another upstairs, but I don’t have time to show you now. Start the one in the entrance now,” he says, his voice stern. Okay, guess I’m just another employee here. That’s okay: for fifty grand and a gallery show, I can deal with him.
I spend the morning in the entrance, examining the space and light and generating ideas in my notebook. My plan was to knock out these paintings as fast as possible and never have to come to this shrine of wealth again.
At noon, I pull my sandwich from my purse and sit on the bottom step to eat my lunch. The workmen have all gone somewhere else for their lunch. The rich bastard probably doesn’t let them eat in his house.
“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.