Painted On My Heart

Kellus looked around the counter. It took a second to even absorb the fact his phone wasn’t where he always left it to charge.

“Fuck!” he yelled in the middle of his kitchen. He threw his hands in the air, swinging wildly. If John were there, he’d punch him right in the face for this move.

Digging his fingers through his hair, he closed his eyes, trying to find his sanity. Usually when he had a John episode, he was John-free for several days, sometimes even as much as a couple of weeks. It was wrong to feel relieved about that, but he had.

Kellus went for the light switch in the kitchen, illuminating the room in a bright glow. Someone had tracked and smeared mud on the kitchen floor. He followed those prints toward the back door. It was slightly open, the lock broken. This was his own damn fault. He should have moved the charger back to his room. Thank God he had the keys to his ride.

In a rush, he stepped out the back door only to discover the van door open wide and the hood up. The momentary relief of seeing the vehicle still there quickly faded. The anger from seconds ago ignited as he marched to the driver’s side door and jerked it farther open. The radio was gone.

“Shit!” Of course it was. “Fuck you, John,” he growled, slamming the van door.

As he rounded the hood, the lights in his neighbor’s bedroom came on. They were a young couple, and the guy’s face peered out the window a moment before Kellus saw his battery gone. He was so screwed! He pushed the hood down and ignored the man in the window as he went back inside his house.

Phone, battery, and radio. Two days ago he’d gotten the TV, surround sound, and clothes. Nothing was ever safe and fucking John had reached a new all-time low. He had to have that vehicle to work. John knew that. If he didn’t work, he’d lose everything, leaving nothing else for John to steal from him. John should consider the van sacred ground.

The nagging ache that always revolved around John slashed across his heart, reopening the festering wound, leaving him raw and bleeding once again. If nothing else, he had to face the facts. John would never get better. It wasn’t going to happen, no matter how badly Kellus wanted him to. John didn’t want this life that Kellus tried so damn hard every single day to keep together.

Fighting back the tears, he went for his keys and then to the garage door of his studio, hoping to take his disbelief and negative energy out in the way of art. He sensed something dark and sinister coming, but whatever…those always sold the best anyway.

He unlocked the door, flipped on the lights, and entered the security code. Thank God John couldn’t get inside there. He went for the speaker and stopped dead in his tracks. His brand new speakers were useless now. He didn’t have his cell phone. Dropping his head in defeat, his shoulders slumped, and he felt that all too familiar gnawing in his gut. He refused to cry. He was done with that. He’d cried too much over John. Now he just wanted out, and he was more afraid than ever before that he was never going to be free of his ex.

~?~

Shoving his hands inside his slacks pocket, Arik anchored a shoulder against the doorframe of the hotel’s security office, and stood staring out into the main lobby, baffled by what he saw. He’d adopted the sit-back-and-watch tactic a few years ago, and it never seemed to fail. His presence turned the entire resort into a tizzy. Per Gregory, his general manger and longtime employee, the staff lacked a certain sense of urgency in completing their tasks. Their easy camaraderie with one another allowed mistakes to slip through. Now, he saw the evidence firsthand. From housekeeping through food services to his front-end staff, no one seemed to have much motivation until he walked through the doors. One thing he’d learned since moving to Texas—Northern Tarrant County specifically—was that everyone was overly casual with a leisurely pace in completing their jobs.

That had to end. His clientele would never accept this kind of service.

For Gregory, this had been a sore spot for a while. He had tried to work with the staff, break through the barriers that kept them from becoming a well-oiled machine like Arik’s other resorts. No question, Gregory was a pit bull when it came to running Arik's properties and Gregory's answer had been to fire the lot of them. Maybe Arik should have listened and let that happen, but it was too late now.

So, it was up to Arik to turn this around. He pushed off the wall and marched toward the front of the hotel. Maybe his presence in the middle of ground zero would put a little more pep in his employees’ step.