"I have an opening in a gallery next week, and you're my first choice," he says, beaming. "I want you to show the new stuff, you know—the canvases you showed me last week."
I furrow my brow, unsure of what to make of this. I usually choose my own shows.
"What gallery?"
"Gaze," he says, and I recognize the name as one of the most influential galleries at the moment. I know artists who are killing themselves trying to get in, and here's my chance offered on a silver platter. I think it through for a moment, but I already know what my answer will be. I'm already imagining the money it will put in my pocket, and it will only get me closer to my goal.
And that has stayed the same as the years go by.
Destroy Kade. Claim June. Be the kid's father.
It's my goddamn mantra. The only thing that keeps me fucking going.
"I'll take it." I nod.On the day of the exhibition, I'm fucking nervous. And I'm never nervous, so that makes matters worse, making me itch to get the whole thing over with already.
Marissa delivers a tailored and ridiculously expensive suit to my apartment that morning, and I don't let her leave until I've fucked her, being especially hard and mean with her lithe body. Pounding into her relieves the tension. It always makes me feel better when I degrade her, so I call her names while I do it. The stupid bitch begs for more, sucking my cock like she's a pro. To think she was a virgin when I met her. Fucking hilarious how things change. What you can do to people. How you can destroy them.
"Nox," she says softly. "I really have to go—I have to get ready for the show now."
She works as my assistant, and I have her running errands all day, every day. But I'm not finished with her just yet, so I pull her back in the bed and fuck her again until she's begging for a break.
"Leave," I order her after I'm done, and she does as she is told like a good girl. I watch her getting out of bed, and all I see are the differences between her and June. The way her hips curve and her flat ass are so different from June's perfect body and beautiful skin. Skin I want to carve into, a body I want to ravage until she screams for me to stop.
Oh, the time will come.
Marissa blows me a kiss as she leaves, the door shutting with a click behind her.
After a steaming shower and a shave, I'm a new man. I put on my suit and spray some cologne as I head out, my heart pumping blood through every cell in my body. The exhibition today is special because I'm showing some new work. I've been keeping it pretty inoffensive with my canvases, though I'm truer to myself now than during my street days. Hodge wanted me to show more of my real personality, though.
The poor fuck had no idea what would happen if I were to unleash my demons on the blank canvas. I can already imagine his horrified face, and it delights me. Riding in the cab, I think of the canvases I'm going to display today. They're still tame—to me, at least.
I’ve chosen to display portraits mostly but with a darker twist. I re-imagined the people I painted, faces I saw in the street, women I fucked, passersby I encountered. I imagined them pained by injustice, by family feuds, by everyday trouble and sickness. I painted them the way they would be had their problems taken on a physical form. A scratch for an argument, a slash for a lost job. A streak of blood here, a splatter of it there.
I had to hold back when I was painting, stopping myself from taking it to another level. Hodge loved my dark side, though he realized it might be too much for the people. He claimed the gallery where I was opening would have an understanding, passionate audience. My show has been labeled as dark and twisted, calling me a refreshing new mind with a gritty imagination. I quite like the sound of that.
The cab drops me off in front of the building, and I head in fashionably late. I know Hodge will be pissed, but it's just another way to show him he's not the boss of me. Fucking his daughter, showing up late... And he still treats me like a son, more than my father ever did.
As soon as I walk in, I'm shocked by the crowd, and when they lay eyes on me, a round of applause breaks out. They whoop, too, and I give a flash of perfect teeth as I walk to the center of the room. I refuse to take the microphone someone offers me, and instead, I head straight for the bar.