Run
(Skye)
What do I do? Do I leave? I need to stay. I need to finish the painting and get paid. How stupid am I? Why did I let Lawson do that to me in Kelso’s house? Shit!
With Lawson’s jacket covering me, I grab the rest of my clothing and pull my pants on. I’m not sure how to put on my top, since doing so would mean removing the jacket, and I don’t want Kelso leering at me again.
“I’ll get back to my painting now,” I state to the room. Lawson’s head snaps to face mine, his eyes narrowed.
“You’re coming with me.” Lawson does up his suit pants and retrieves his belt from the floor.
“No, I have to paint, I’m almost finished with this one.” Finishing it would mean he owes me five grand.
“What, this smut?” Lawson points to the painting then turns to Kelso. “Nice fucking painting you’re hanging over your bed. Is that the best you can do, dream of it as you lay in bed, alone?”
“Fuck you.”
“Shit, Kelso, I’ve had more action in your bed than you have.”
“Enough of this. Get out, now!” Kelso roars, his fists balled in front of him.
“I can’t go, I’m not finished yet,” I say, with no trace of confidence in my voice.
“You’re not staying,” Lawson snaps.
“Oh, you can stay, especially if you plan on painting topless.”
“No chance,” Lawson says, bundling me to the bedroom door.
I resist, trying to dig in with my feet but I have no chance against Lawson’s strength.
“My paints, at least let me put away my materials, they’ll be ruined.”
“I’ll buy you new ones.” We’re halfway down the hall and nearing the top of the stairs.
“I don’t want you to buy me anything! I want to do this myself. To earn this.”
“Earn whatever you want, after you’re safe.”
“If Skye wants to stay, she stays,” Kelso says, standing in the frame of his bedroom door.
“Yes, I need to work.”
“How fucking naïve are you?” Lawson says through gritted teeth. He picks me up and carries me down the stairs. Stunned by the way he spoke to me — swore at me — I stop resisting.
“If you think I’m settling the lawsuit now, forget it. I’m sucking every last penny out of our company,” Kelso yells.
“You’ll be wasting your own time and money, idiot.” We reach the bottom of the stairs, Lawson rushes through the entrance, past my half-finished temple painting and toward the door.
“Enjoy that piece of ass,” Kelso calls from the landing at the top of the stairs.
“I already did, remember. The proof is on your bed,” Lawson yells as he slams the front door.
“Put me down,” I demand, my jaw clenched. He doesn’t.
“You’re not going back in there, Kelso’s all riled up, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”
Lawson carries me to his Maserati and finally puts me down. I’m still half naked, my panties in my hand, my bra tight around my lower ribcage.
I’m breathing hard and fast through clenched teeth. The last few minutes starts to sink in.
“Get in,” Lawson says, opening the passenger door.
“No. If I can’t work here, I’m working in my studio. But I will finish this job.”
“I’ll drive you home.”
“No,” I say shaking my head, my mouth twisted, “My car is here, I’ll need it.”
“I’ll have someone bring it to your house.”
“I am driving myself home.”
“Where are your keys?” My shoulders drop and my eyes close.
I sigh. “In his bedroom.”
“Exactly. Get in.”
Begrudgingly, I sit in the car and Lawson shuts the door. My nose wrinkles as I use my panties to wipe off the semen on my chest. As we pull out of the driveway, I manage to fix my bra and put my top back on.
“I don’t want you going back there,” Lawson says, shifting gears.
“It’s my biggest commission plus a gallery showing, I need it.”
“So I’ll fucking commission you to paint something for every wall in my house, plus a gallery show in every city you want.”
“That wouldn’t count! Don’t you see? I want to succeed because of my talent, not because I let some billionaire fuck me!”
“So you’ll find something else. Anything, just not with him.”
I’m so angry, I can’t even respond anymore. Instead I fume in silence. Kelso and Lawson’s argument keeps playing over in my head. Each time I replay the words, I feel more and more like a pawn in their pissing contest.
Which isn’t surprising, given they’re both billionaires. I knew from the start not to have anything to do with the rich. They’re people who’ve lost their humanity, they don’t care about people like me; not really.
We pull into Ava’s driveway. Without saying anything, I get out of the car and go into the house. I lock the door behind me, just in case Lawson plans to come in after me.
Ava is dozing in the living room, and I hurry down the hall before I wake her. I can’t face a conversation with her now. Not when I don’t have my own thoughts straight.
After I shower, I head to my studio and do the only thing I know for sure I can do — paint. When I focus on my work, I’m able to push the other issues to the back of my mind. Besides, Gordon said he’s had a man from New York asking for my work, I have to create something to sell him. I finally seem to be getting somewhere with my career, granted it’s not anywhere huge yet, but it’s still exciting.
Ava brings me a hot dog for dinner. While I eat it, I check my phone. One text from Lawson.
Don’t go to Kelso’s again.
How dare he continue to tell me what to do. I’m still furious he made me leave Kelso’s in the first place. And I’m more than furious about the way he and Kelso argued about me.
I don’t bother to reply. I lose interest in finishing my dinner, and throw myself back into my work.
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.