‘Lunch first, then hunt,’ his uncle requested. ‘I know you’re impatient, but an old man needs feeding regularly.’
Grinding his jaw, Kris amended his plan. ‘I’ll take you to the restaurant, make sure you’ll be treated like a king, and I’ll leave the car at your disposal.’
His uncle sighed heavily but knew there was no arguing with Kris in this mood. ‘Very well,’ he agreed grudgingly. ‘Do what you must.’
Kris was too fiercely absorbed in his most recent plan to notice the small smile that had crept on to his uncle’s face.
* * *
The word MEN, with a thick black diagonal warning sign painted through the three bold letters. How good did that feel?
Maybe she’d take up graffiti art, Kimmie mused as she stood back with the brush she’d been using to express her feelings on the canvas poised in one hand. Or not! Black paint was running down the hand in question, and did this really fit with her sun-drenched exhibition—the one that was supposed to make people feel happy?
Taking the canvas off the easel, she stacked it with the rest of the rejects in the one remaining corner of her tiny room. She huffed as she stared at the rejected painting, knowing it was a reaction to her latest knockback by a trendy gallery.
‘Sunny?’ the snooty owner had exclaimed as if Kimmie had suggested something vile. ‘How utterly un-cool,’ he’d added with a sneer.
‘Not really,’ Kimmie had pointed out with a thoughtful expression. ‘It’s full of sex and heat and naked bodies, so I think you’d call it quite hot.’
‘Come back here, young lady. I might be interested—’
‘Too late,’ she’d called out gaily. She needed someone who was one hundred per cent on board to stand a chance of her exhibition being successful. A lot depended on the buzz being circulated, and as the artist she could only do so much of that.
Undaunted by this latest setback, she quartered the streets of London that she was familiar with, searching for somewhere she could paint, store her work and potentially exhibit it too. She struck gold when she spotted a large notice in the window of a community centre. Space available, it read. Suitable for dance classes, lecture hall or exhibition space.
Perfect, Kimmie thought as she walked in. Finding the caretaker, a no-nonsense woman called Mandy, she introduced herself. ‘I’m an artist,’ she explained, ‘but I’m afraid I don’t have much money, so maybe I could help out as well?’
‘So you’re familiar with paint?’ Mandy asked, wrinkling her nose as if an idea had just come to her.
‘Absolutely.’
‘This hall needs painting.’
‘Ah...’ Kimmie smiled. Here was someone who could not only get her out of a mess, but who could give Kimmie a sense of purpose while she did so. ‘I’m quite happy to barter my services as decorator in exchange for a reduced cost on the space,’ she confirmed.
‘Reduced cost?’ Mandy exclaimed. ‘You can have it for free if you paint the hall. Are you sure you’ll have enough time?’
‘I’ll make time,’ Kimmie said, firming her jaw.
‘Right then. We’ve got a deal,’ Mandy confirmed. ‘I’ll close the hall while you’re working, and even provide the tea.’
She’d have to make several trips with her paintings, Kimmie reflected, but once the hall was decorated she could hang them in a weekend. This was perfect.
‘Thank you so much.’
* * *
‘Wow...’ Mandy breathed on the first day of that weekend. Kimmie had just hung her painting of Kris. Naked on the bed, he was fortunately lying on his stomach. Even so, the sight of him, impossibly masculine, hard-muscled and deeply tanned, indolently displayed to best advantage, was a breath-stealing sight.
‘Obviously post-sex, with those bed sheets rumpled around him,’ Mandy commented thoughtfully in her usual blunt manner. ‘Lucky you,’ she added with a twinkle in her eyes as she stared at Kimmie.
‘Oh, no. I...’
‘Don’t even,’ Mandy warned, holding up her hand to silence Kimmie, ‘because I won’t believe you.’
‘He’s just another man,’ Kimmie protested. ‘Another subject to paint.’
‘Hun,’ Mandy said wearily, ‘that is not “just another man”.’
She sighed dramatically. ‘That is the man, the pinnacle of the expectation of our collective wombs, and it’s your duty to share him with the world. I expect he’ll sell out first. Who wouldn’t want that hanging on their wall?’ Standing back to admire the nude of Kris once more, she sighed again. ‘And you’re good,’ she added, turning from the painting to stare at Kimmie. ‘You’re really good and I believe in you. Don’t you think it’s time to start believing in yourself?’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE PAINTINGS DID look fabulous, thanks to Mandy’s help with hanging them. Now all that remained was to spread the word and hope someone turned up. Whatever happened, at least the community hall had had a facelift. Who needed a fancy gallery when Kimmie had a fairy godmother in the comforting shape of Mandy? A second fairy godmother, Kimmie thought wistfully as she remembered Kyria Demetriou and hoped she’d see her again. The bright scenes of Kaimos were largely due to her encouragement. They made Kimmie smile. She could only hope they made everyone else smile too.
‘Go home, Kimmie,’ Mandy prompted. ‘There’s nothing more you can do here tonight, and you can leave it to me to lock up.’
‘Thanks. The hall looks fabulous, thanks to you.’
‘And to your hard work and the exhibition,’ Mandy put in, ‘and in your condition you need a rest now.’
‘I’m pregnant, not sick,’ Kimmie protested smiling.
‘Even so, I’m taking charge and you’re going home,’ Mandy insisted, shooing Kimmie towards the door. ‘You want to be fresh for the opening, don’t you?’
‘If anyone comes,’ Kimmie said wryly, hoping they would. She needed to pay the rent this month and, however carefully she budgeted, her small reserve of money had almost run out.
Would anyone come to the wrong side of town?
Fortunately, she’d put a small sum aside to pay for some flyers, which she had posted all over town, including
the West End and Knightsbridge, as well as other fashionable areas like the King’s Road, Marylebone High Street and Notting Hill. Literally anyone who had agreed to take one of her carefully designed posters showing just a snapshot of her work had been thanked from the bottom of her heart before she’d moved on.
The miles of walking had done her good. As she’d criss-crossed the wintry streets of London, she had realised how kind people could be. Some had even expressed an interest in coming along to the exhibition, so perhaps it wouldn’t be a washout after all.
Meeting Mandy had been the key to everything, Kimmie mused as she hugged her friend and said goodnight. On her way out, she gazed up at her painting of Kris and smiled. She couldn’t help herself. Perhaps his uncle wouldn’t want Kris naked on his wall, but there were the earlier sketches as well as the finished painting of Kris, looking hard and driven and every bit the commanding CEO. Perhaps they could hang that one on the boardroom wall in one of his offices.
‘Now, don’t you worry about anything,’ Mandy insisted as she opened the door and an icy draught blew in. ‘I’ll make sandwiches and tea for everyone tomorrow.’ And when Kimmie protested that they didn’t even know if anyone would come, she added, ‘Spending a lot of money on paintings will be hungry work, I expect, so I’d better stock up and get cracking first thing in the morning.’
Nothing she could say would put her friend off. Maybe it was time she took the same line, Kimmie thought as Mandy added, ‘Those beautiful posters are enough to charm the birds from the trees. We’ll be turning people away. Your work is fabulous. I predict you’ll be a sell-out. I’ll make sure there’s water, as well as decaf tea for you, so you’ve no excuse not to enjoy the event to the full, and make a lot of money.’
‘I can’t thank you enough,’ Kimmie said as they parted at the door.
‘Think about what you’ve done for us...for the community,’ Mandy called after her. ‘It was a lucky day for everyone when you knocked on the door, and we’ll all be here to support you.’