Painted On My Heart

He shut the front door and an honest prayer slipped free. Please don’t let it be what I’m considering. If John stole so freely from him, he had to be doing it regularly. Maybe Kellus’s social worker at the clinic could help find some answers. He went for his phone only to remember he still hadn’t replaced it. Dammit.

Anger hit hard. He tossed the cards on the kitchen counter. Seriously, fuck whatever John did. He was such an ass. He deserved whatever came his way.

He grabbed his keys, wallet, and duffle bag and left the house. On his way to the van, he reached for his back pocket to make sure the check Arik Layne had written him was still there. He needed to deposit those funds first thing, then go straight to get a new phone this morning. Maybe he should stop by the gallery before heading for a workout, just to show that he cared how badly he’d fucked up everything yesterday. If they were behind, he could lend a hand in hanging the art.

The mental list of things to do continued to swamp his thoughts as he got behind the wheel. He’d need a few art supplies to finish pending projects. Maybe he should take Sara a coffee or something this morning. Perhaps a plant. Did people take things like that to new businesses? He let that thought linger, taking his mind off John and all his constant bullshit, focusing on more productive things as he pulled the van out of the driveway.

~?~

That anxiousness he’d thought he tackled was back in full force. Arik stood in a small alcove in a back corner of the lobby, watching and listening to everything going on around him. He crossed his arms at his chest as he shifted his weight and began the nervous habit of tapping his foot while making bullet point mental notes about topics to cover in the managers’ meeting planned for the end of the day.

His best estimation—they weren’t quite the well-oiled machine he’d have hoped, but they were far better than yesterday. His stern meeting with the department heads must have worked. He saw the potential, which gave him hope. What he did like—and oddly he compared this hotel to his Asian properties—was that anything that didn’t quite flow as a guest expected was immediately combatted and conquered with those ingrained Southern manners of his employees. He saw for himself that his guests ate that shit up.

For the length of the time he’d stood there, tucked off to the side in that alcove, he’d never detected any true discord. That said a lot for such a busy opening day.

His natural tendency was to get involved. If it were up to him, he’d be working alongside Gregory to help relieve the first-day struggles. He scanned the room, his focus landing on his general manager who looked to be in a heated discussion with the manager of the entertainment venue he had attached to the hotel complex. Doing a small on-site theater was a first for Arik. He’d never dipped his feet in the entertainment industry, but with Wilder building such hype about the resort, he figured this was the place to try it. Honestly, it had been a bit of a headache. His idea was simple: an informal, no more than five-hundred seat, intimate theater. A place where a customer might get a one-on-one feel with their favorite musician for a price—an extremely high price.

The performance schedule had filled pretty quickly for the next two years. All very encouraging.

The problem, casual settings seemed difficult to grasp for many of the popular performers. It had taken quite of bit of negotiation to convince artists like Lady Gaga or Taylor Swift to scale back their shows. The theater didn’t have its opening act until the weekend, but the performers had arrived this morning, wanting three full days of rehearsals before the show went live, since this was their first visit to the venue. An acoustic show no less.

Arik’s foot tapped with a little more force as he watched Gregory move his conversation from the center of the lobby toward the back offices. Briefly, his eyes connected with the general manager’s. Frustration reflected back. That was the final straw; he couldn’t take another minute of not being involved. Arik started to move, but the air around him changed, stopping him in his tracks. A tickle crawled up his spine, stilling even his anxious tap of the foot. He instinctively cut his gaze across the crowded lobby toward the front doors. Everything faded around him. Kellus Hardin walked through the automatic entryway, pulling the sunglasses off his handsome face as he headed straight toward the art studio.

Arik tracked his every move. Kellus’s long stride had him vanishing way too quickly from his sight. Instead of going to find the answers to whatever drama currently played out in his entertainment venue, Arik had no choice in the matter. He headed straight for the art gallery.