“Where do you keep those?” she asked.
“Underneath the cash register, top drawer.”
“Got it. Now, what’s the third option? I’m assuming it’s the most expensive.”
“Yes, but it’s the only option we allow for overseas shipping, so that’s important to note.”
“Got it. What does it require?” she asked.
“You do the bubble wrap, the envelope, the hard case, and then you stick it in a wooden crate that’s padded with those plastic Styrofoam peanuts.”
“Oh, goodie. I inhaled one of those things once. Coughed so hard I thought I went blind.”
“That sounds absolutely horrifying. Don’t kill yourself on these things,” I said, grinning.
“I’ll try not to, boss. But, do you keep those kinds of crates lying around? That sounds like that would take up a lot of space.”
“Actually, I do. There’s a storage shed out back that’s weatherproofed. There are four sizes of crates and multiple bags of those Styrofoam killing machines. One painting goes in one box, and that’s it. I’m about to pack up these two paintings to be shipped to Barcelona, so I’ll show you how to do it.”
“Styrofoam killing machines. That’s what we’re calling them from now on,” she said.
“Good. We need a bit of humor in this place,” I said.
I walked out back and showed Kelly where the storage container was. I pulled out everything I needed and showed her how to pack the paintings. I showed her how to do it with the first one and then let her do the second one. Then, I dumped everything out, and she repacked both of them. It hurt my heart to watch John’s paintings being packed away to leave for good, but I knew it was for the best.
John had saved my life trying to get me out of this shit, and he would be irate if he knew this was still blowing back on me.
I was shocked at how quickly Kelly was picking up on things. We locked the packed boxes in the shed to leave them for delivery in a few days and went back inside. Despite the fact that she had been late for her interview and seemed to have a flighty attitude in general, she was a hard worker and caught on quickly.
Plus, she was passionate about art education in the same way I was. And to me? That was invaluable.
“You want me to lock up today?” Kelly asked. “It’s almost six.”
“I’ve got it tonight. You go on home and get some rest. I’ll need you opening this place without me in the morning,” I said.
“Sounds good. Will you come in after lunch?”
“I’m gunning for just before, but I’ll keep you updated,” I said.
“See you tomorrow, then.”
Kelly left, and I continued to sweep up the floor. We had many visitors come in today, and the floor was disgusting. The good thing about a black floor was that dirt didn’t easily show up, but the bad thing about a black floor was that sometimes the dirt hid and collected more than I could imagine.
I was sweeping up the floor when the bell over the door rang. I figured Kelly had left her purse or something behind, a habit she had quickly developed. But when I turned around, I saw a woman I didn’t recognize standing in the doorway.
“Hello there. I’m sorry, but I’m closing up,” I said.
“Oh, I’m not here to purchase anything. I was wondering if I could stop in and see some of John’s paintings?”
That entire statement took me by surprise. No one who stopped in to see his paintings ever addressed him by his name. They always said ‘that artist you showcased’ or ‘the guy on drugs who painted.’ They were crude names, but I always knew who they were talking about.
“Unfortunately, John’s paintings have been removed so they can be cleaned up a bit. They aren’t currently showcased on the walls right now.”
It was easy for me to spit out that lie, especially since the woman held a shadow of a grin upon her cheeks. She was beautiful, if I set aside her questioning gaze, with long blond hair, piercing blue eyes, and a tall, thin frame with toned muscles that boasted of a strength most women didn’t have. She was obviously athletic, and as I continued to study her, a dreaded thought popped into my head.
Was she here because of Ben?
“That’s a shame,” the woman said. “I was hoping to reminisce a bit.”
“Well, if you’re not purchasing anything, you’re more than welcome to come in and take a look around. I’ve just counted the register and shut it down is all.”
The woman came on into the gallery and scanned her eyes along the paintings on the wall.
“I couldn’t get to John’s showcase a little while back. I was out of town on business. I was hoping to hug Bryan’s neck again.”
“You know Bryan?” I asked.
“From a different time in life, yes. My gosh, I can remember when he and John would run around at their family cabin. I’d visit them all the time up there.”
It was growing very uneasy with having this woman in the gallery. It was painfully obvious she knew Bryan and his family and for a very long time. I watched the way she walked around the gallery, the way she seemed to float instead of walk. Her shoulders were rolled back, and her eyes fluttered along the paintings, but there was something vacant in her stare.
Like she wasn’t wholly present in the art that surrounded her.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name,” I said.
“Because I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Laura,” she said.
“It’s very nice to meet you. Is this your first time in the gallery?” I asked.
“It is,” she said mindlessly. “I noticed a display of designs over there by the register. On those small little canvases.”
“They’re from a local tattoo artist,” I said.
“I knew it. That’s Drew’s work, isn’t it? Drew Carmichael? Man, he was always so talented at that kind of thing. I can remember when he did Bryan’s tattoo on his back. He has this picture of their family cabin on his back. I was in awe of it when he first showed it to me.”
This woman knew about Bryan’s tattoos?
“Yes. Drew Carmichael,” I said. “They’re his designs.”
“Bryan’s are better if you ask me. He should outsource his work to Drew. He’s got this geometric pattern or something on his arm. Absolutely breathtaking.”
I gripped the broom tightly as my face began to pale. She really knew Bryan. Who the fuck was this woman? I didn’t ever recall Bryan mentioning anything about a Laura to me.
“How far along?”
“What?” I asked.
“You’re obviously expecting. How far along are you?” Laura asked.
“Um, seven and a half months,” I said.
“Huh. I would’ve pegged you to almost be there,” she said.
“What?” I asked.
“Has the pregnancy been rough? It looks like it’s been rough.”
“Come again?” I asked.
“You know, I’ve got this number for a fabulous health and fitness trainer. She could really help you get your body ready to bounce back from that baby of yours. Here, let me get her card.”
I watched as this woman dug around in her purse as anger pooled in my chest. I looked down at my body, my stomach jutting out and my tits bulging from my top. I looked over at the window and caught sight of my face. My cheeks had grown, and for the first time in my life, I had a prominent double chin.
“Here. Take her card. Call her as soon as you can. She will really make that weight loss easier.”
Laura dangled a card from her fingers like she was doing me some bullshit favor.
“I don’t think I’ll need it, but thank you,” I said.
“Oh, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Some women don’t carry pregnancy as well as others. Take me, for instance. My body wouldn’t distribute weight like yours has. It would be easier for me to bounce back, but with the right time and the right exercises, you’ll be back to tip-top shape.”
Her smile was dripping with disgust, and I thought about ramming her head through one of the paintings on the wall.
“I’m sorry, how do you know Bryan?” I asked.
“Oh, we grew up together. I heard he’s doing well working alongside Ellen St. Claire at the foundation. That’s such a wonderful job for him. He’s perfect for it.”
I felt sick to my stomach as the woman slowly headed for the door.
“Anyway, think about giving that woman a call. Men like Bryan are hard to come by and even harder to keep around. If he’s going to keep himself in top condition, he’s going to surround himself with people who can too. It’s how men like him operate.”
I felt myself growing lightheaded as the bell above the door rang out.
“Have a good ... day.”
My back collided with the wall as I slid down to my ass on the floor. What the hell had just happened? Who the fuck was Laura? How the hell did she know Bryan? And what gave her the right to stroll on in here and take a shit on my world?
She knew things about him that could only come from recent conversations with him like his work at the foundation and the position he held there. It was possible she heard it through the grapevine or maybe from his own mother or gossip within that community. But as anger pooled in my chest and tears rushed down my cheeks, my hands trembled with a stark possibility.