Carnal: Pierced and Inked

by Simone Sowood

  What happened here this morning? I turn off the engine and stride through the front door.

  Her painting stuff is still here.

  “Kelso!” I shout, moving deeper into the house. I turn a corner into the kitchen and come face to face with the slimy bastard.

  “What’s the matter, looking for your slut?”

  “You better not have talked to her like that.”

  “Only after she wouldn’t renegotiate the terms of our contract.”

  “You’re pathetic.” My jaw is clenched and the tendons in my neck straining. It’s all I can do not to plow that smug look off his face. But I’m not about to give him anything that might help out his case. Instead, I’ll fucking rape him in the courts. He wants to settle now? Fat fucking chance. I’m going to throw everything at him, cost him his fortune in legal fees until he’s left dazed and wondering what happened to all his money.

  Before he can respond, I’m heading back out of the house. I don’t need to hear any more from the asshole, Julie can deal with him from now on.

  My tires squeal as I tear out of Kelso’s. The drive to Skye’s house takes a fraction the time it normally does. Her car is here, and I sigh with relief.

  My knock is so loud, it echoes down the street. I wait for a stupid amount of time before putting my hand on the door knob, wondering if I could break it down. But at that moment, the door opens.

  Skye’s eyes are puffy and red. At the sight of her, I lift my hand to her face and run my thumb over her cheek.

  “What do you want?” Skye steps back, away from my touch.

  “I want to make sure you’re okay.” I step through the door. “Did Kelso do anything to you this morning?”

  “How do you know I was there?”

  “I went there to get your car for you.” She doesn’t need to know I went there to keep her away from Kelso.

  “Well, I got it myself. I’m a big girl.”

  “As long as Kelso didn’t do anything to you.”

  “No, he just talked some shit and I left.”

  I try to urge her down the hallway, or at least away from the entrance, but she doesn’t budge.

  “Sunshine, are you okay?” I reach out and take her hands in mine.

  “You and Kelso are real rivals, aren’t you?” She takes her hands away and folds them across her chest.

  “I hate the bastard.”

  “You’d do anything to hurt him, huh?”

  “Hell yes.”

  “Including screwing the chick who’s working for him in his own bed.”

  “What? No. That was all your fault, seeing you and that painting, I couldn’t contain myself.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Come on, you can’t seriously think that.”

  “This is what I think, I think I’m a pathetic little pawn caught in the middle of a pissing match between two billionaires.”

  I slam the side of my fist against the open door, causing a loud bang. Skye flinches.

  “For fuck’s sake, Skye, that’s insane.”

  “Oh, oh, I see. I have the guts to say what’s so obviously happening, and that makes me insane.”

  “I never said you were insane, I said the idea was. There’s a big difference.”

  “Whatever. How else do you explain whatever’s going on between you and Kelso? The two of you treat me like a toy you’re fighting over in the sandbox.”

  “Where are you getting this? Did Kelso fill you with these ideas?”

  This is fucking bullshit. I’ll be damned if I let that asshole fuck over my relationship. Part of me wants to drive right back over there and do what I should’ve done this morning: beat his face in.

  “I think I’m smart enough to see it on my own, thank you.”

  “That’s absurd. Think about it, I didn’t even know you worked there when I met you.”

  “I know that! But once you found out, you turned it into another opportunity to get at him.”

  “You know what I think? I think that asshole is fucking me over right now. He’s filled you full of ideas, because he knows it’ll fuck over my relationship with the only woman I’ve ever cared about.”

  Skye’s chin is quivering. She squeezes her eyes shut and opens them again, blinking like crazy to wash away her tears.

  “I can’t do it.”

  “Do what?” My throat is so tight I struggle to get the words out.

  “This. Us. We’re too different. I’m not from your world. I don’t belong in it any more than you belong in mine.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Skye, enough with the different-worlds bullshit.” I’m struggling to contain myself now. I always control myself. Always. Part of me knows I should get out of here now, go and calm down and then come back. But Skye’s so upset, I can’t bear the thought of leaving her like this.

  “It’s not bullshit! You have no idea how important that job at Kelso’s was to me. And now I’ve lost it, all because you didn’t take it seriously.”

  “Hey, I didn’t make you take your clothes off yesterday. If I remember right, you didn’t object to the idea for one second. And you sure as hell weren’t complaining by the end.”

  Her cheeks turn the color of her puffy eyes. For a moment a coy smile almost graces her face, but not quite.

  Skye swallows, and says, “It was a momentary lapse in judgement.”

  “I don’t think it was a lapse at all. I think it was the best way I’ve ever spent a morning.”

  “It cost me my first commission and my dream.”

  I smirk. “You were painting a pussy, is that really your dream?”

  “It was only one painting of ten! Plus he was funding a gallery showing. Now I’ve lost the commission and the show, because of you.”

  “I would love to fund a show for you. Not because you’re sleeping with me, but because you’re talented.”

  She shakes her head. “No. It’s best if I don’t wrap myself up in your life anymore than I already have.”

  “Listen to me. The reality is, I’m going to crush Kelso in the courts. When I get through with him, he won’t have money left over to pay for gallery shows.”

  “That sounds an awful lot like a pissing contest to me.”

  I close my eyes. My heart is racing and my throat feels like I’m being strangled. I’m not even sure what’s going on.

  “My issues with Kelso are nothing to do with you. Why can’t you see that?”

  “Stop.”

  “No, I will not stop. Why can’t you see how much you mean to me?”

  “I’m just another poor person you think you can order around and use.”

  “You know what I think it is? I think you don’t want to see it. Fuck, twenty-four hours ago your toes were curled from my touch, and now all of a sudden you want me to leave?”

  “Go. Leave. Now.” She pushes me toward the door. She’s using all her strength and I don’t want to physically resist her.

  “What’s wrong with you, Skye? Why do you keep making up shit in your head?”

  I cross the threshold and she slams the door shut, and the bolt snaps a second later. My entire body is numb.

  “Let me back in, let me talk to you,” I say, pounding on the door.

  There’s nothing, only silence.

  Defeated, I drag my feet to my car and sit in it. In my daze, I can’t even turn the engine on. The only place I want to go is back inside with Skye.

  I send a text.

  Talk to me.

  Leave me alone, I have to get on with my life.

  I need you in my life.

  I don’t belong in your life.

  The door doesn’t open again, even after twenty minutes. Reluctantly, I switch my car on. In the slowest speed any Maserati has ever gone, I back out of the driveway.

  Becoming Taylor Swift

  (Skye)

  Tears flow from my eyes as I bury my face in my pillow. After I sent the last text to Lawson, I turn off my phone. I don’t want to read his messages. And I certainly don’
t want to speak to him on the phone.

  My heart is crushing in my chest, enough that I worry I might actually die. If this is what it feels like to break up with someone, then I’m glad I didn’t date in high school or college. This pain is unbearable.

  I’m so angry at myself for allowing myself to date someone like Lawson. I should’ve known from the start that it was a bad idea. What is someone like me, a poor artist, ever going to offer a billionaire? It could only ever end in nothing but heartache for me.

  How could I let myself get in the middle of Lawson and Kelso? To be a stupid little pawn in their billionaire game?

  Lesson learned. From now on, I will stay far away from anyone who isn’t like me. If I can’t find a poor, starving artist I can identify with, then I’d rather be alone.

  But that doesn’t make the pain that I’m feeling right now hurt any less.

  Lying on my bed is only making things worse. There’s nothing to distract me, and right now I need to be distracted.

  I drag my feet down the hall into my studio. The earrings on the tree painting is still waiting to be finished. Gordon is pressuring me for more paintings to sell, and I can easily get this finished by the end of the day for him.

  After preparing all my paints and putting on my smock, I stand in front of the painting.

  Nothing.

  I try sitting down in front of the painting.

  Still nothing.

  This isn’t something I’ve experienced before. It’s a complete absence of any feeling other than hurt and pain. I can’t bring myself to touch the painting like this, I’d ruin it.

  I sit for a few moments, staring at the painting and looking around the room. Tears are about to start flowing again but I bite them back.

  Without thinking, I spring from my seat and set aside the mostly finished painting in the next room. I put three fresh, blank canvases on the three easels and pick up my brush.

  If ever I had a need for an outlet, this is it.

  Fuelled with hurt, anger and pain, I fling paint at the canvases. I scrape blacks and browns and blues over them, each color a representation of my emotion.

  My arms work furiously, not caring if the paint lands on the canvas, floor or wall. Even the windows become flecked with paint.

  I’m busy chucking reds at the canvases when Ava opens the door.

  “What’s happening? I’d think you were taking your painting in a new direction, but the look on your face tells a different story.”

  My tears had drained ages ago, but I’m sure their streaks still stain my face.

  “I broke up with Lawson.” My voice is flat, monotonous, as if the three new paintings sucked up anything that was left of my soul.

  “Oh honey, I’m sorry.”

  Ava moves across the room and stands at my side. She puts her arms up to hug me before taking them away again. I look down at myself, there’s as much paint on me as there is on the canvases.

  “I lost my commission, and Lawson doesn’t even care,” I say, my voice descending until I’m blubbering by the time I finish. I wipe my eyes on the backs of my hands, smearing fresh paint on my cheeks.

  “That’s terrible. You lost the commission at the mansion?”

  “Yes. Kelso and Lawson knew each other. They’re rivals, and Lawson used me to get at Kelso.” I’m not sure how much of that she understands, given how difficult it must be to make out the words between my sobs.

  “How awful of him. You poor thing. Don’t worry, dear, the thing about men is it hurts when things go bad, but there’s always another one around the corner.”

  I sob even harder. I don’t want another one. I want Lawson. At least I did. I can’t imagine how another man could ever make me laugh as much as him. Or make me feel the way he made me feel.

  “Your emotions are apparent in these paintings. They’re actually quite powerful. I know abstract isn’t normally your thing, but I bet you can sell these.”

  “Great, I’m like Taylor Swift.”

  “Who?”

  “She’s a singer who makes a fortune writing about all her breakups.”

  “Well, there you go. You can be the art world’s Taylor Swift.” The comment makes me laugh, and lightens my mood.

  “What do I do?”

  “You keep painting. I know you’re heartbroken about losing that commission, but I don’t think you have to worry too much. I just got back from seeing Gordon, and he said he gets at least a phone call a day asking about you. Now the Texas couple and a man from Ohio are demanding the right to outbid whoever offers to buy your next work. With a bidding war going on, who knows how much they’ll go for.”

  My mouth drops open. I can’t believe that my art really, truly, finally seems to be getting noticed. I would love to concentrate on the work I want to do instead of what Kelso wants me to do. Especially his stupid pussy painting.

  In bed that night, I once again drench my pillows with tears. I can no longer resist, and turn my phone back on. It immediately dings with several missed phone calls and texts, all from Lawson.

  Phone me.

  You don’t need Kelso with your talent.

  Why do you believe Kelso over me?

  I would never hurt you.

  The last text is from noon. Eleven hours ago. I can’t bring myself to read all the earlier texts and switch the phone back off.

  Would he hurt me? I sigh through my sobs. There’s no way to know.

  It doesn’t matter anyway. Like Ava and my college professors and so many of my art friends insisted on a million times — the rich don’t belong in our worlds, and we sure as hell don’t belong in theirs.

  Until I met Lawson, I’d always believed their arguments.

  The connection I’d felt with Lawson made me stupid enough to believe that they were wrong; that I could be in his world, and he in mine.

  I laugh through my tears, remembering our first date, and how I made him take me to the cheapest restaurant I could think of, just so I could judge how out of place he was in it. I told him it was because I wanted to go somewhere fast as an excuse to get him to go. Did he realize what my real reason was?

  Lawson did okay in it, at least it seemed that way at the time. Probably my head was too clouded from the overwhelming desire to kiss him to notice any different.

  As for me in his world, well, Kelso showed me what it’s really like when he cornered me in his bedroom. Lawson used me to get to Kelso.

  Even if he didn’t know about my working for Kelso beforehand, he sure took advantage of my employment as soon as he could, when he came into Kelso’s bedroom and, and…

  And gave me the most mind-blowing experience of my life.

  My body warms just remembering it. His touch, his voice. Everything seemed to be focused on pleasuring me. Was Lawson’s real pleasure in knowing we were in Kelso’s bedroom? Did he know Kelso would come home and walk in on us?

  The whole idea, all the possibilities, make me so angry — so incredibly frustrated — that I can’t fall asleep at all.

  The Interview

  (Lawson)

  It’s six in the morning and I’m pacing my kitchen. Skye’s ignored all my phone calls and texts. There’s no point in going over there just to sit in her driveway and stare at a closed door again.

  But there’s no fucking way I’m giving up on getting her back.

  Before Skye, I lived my life alone. Sure I have my sisters, but they’re the only ones I could relate to.

  All the other women I’ve dated were only interested in my money, so I used them for a good time. Not once did I ever connect with one of them. They were either shallow or vacuous or only interested in agreeing with whatever I said for fear of pissing me off.

  Skye’s different. She isn’t afraid to challenge me, or offend me. I love how passionate she is about life, and how much she cares about other people. Skye keeps me grounded, and constantly reminds me how privileged I am. Plus she keeps my head from getting too big.

  I could listen to the
sound of her laugh for all eternity.

  Not to mention the sounds she makes when I have her in my arms.

  I’d given up on ever finding anyone. Figured it wasn’t in the cards for me to ever get married. I was fine with that, until I met Skye.

  Now I can’t imagine my life without her in it. More than anything, I want to share my life with her, in all her crazy artistic glory.

  I chew my nails down to the point of pain while I try to think of a way to fix the situation. I keep coming back to one thing: Skye thinks I’ve ruined her career. The best way forward is to give her career a real boost.

  It’s almost seven and I phone my assistant.

  “Hi Lawson.”

  “Hey, I’m just checking on the Skye Simmons paintings, does the gallery have more in yet?”

  “I asked Gordon to phone me as soon as anything comes in.”

  “Phone him and ask, just in case he’s forgotten.”

  “Sure thing.”

  “Great, thanks. Make it a priority and let me know as soon as you talk to him.”

  I end the call but can’t put the phone down. My housekeeper pours me another cup of coffee and I retreat to my home office.

  The gallery doesn’t open for at least two hours. This may well be the longest two hours of my life. I can’t even think about how long the rest of the day will be. I’m almost tempted to drive over to Skye’s, but come to my senses. It would only be a useless trip to sit in her driveway.

  Instead, I try to distract myself with work. That lasts thirty minutes before I descend into creating a battle plan for taking down Kelso.

  The gallery may not be open yet, but Julie always is.

  “Ugh, isn’t it too early for a phone call from you?” my sister says into the phone, her voice groggy.

  “I needed to update you on a situation.”

  “Lovely. Good morning to you too.”

  “Good morning. From now on, my objective is to suck every penny from Kelso I can. I don’t want to settle. I don’t give a shit about making it neat and tidy, I want to bankrupt the asshole.”

  “Fucking hell, Lawson. Really?” she whines.

  “Yes, really. Why are you complaining? You’ll be able to retire from the extra legal fees.”