Page 61 of His Big Bad Stick

From what I see here though she really chased after her dream.

There are large paintings in the windows.

They don’t mean a thing to me but from what I remember of seeing Abrielle painting, it’s definitely her style.

I take a deep breath and can’t believe what I’m about to do.

Defend Abrielle again.

Save Abrielle again.

I pull on the door and get hit with the smell of paint, paper, and some kind of subtle incense.

The gallery smells like Abrielle.

I take a few steps and look around.

There’s artwork everywhere in here.

On the walls. Hanging on wires from the ceiling.

Some pieces are halfway done. Those are more toward the back.

I walk halfway across the floor and stop when I see someone.

I instantly know it’s Simon.

He’s short. In a suit. Perfect hair. Eyes that prey.

“Hey there,” he calls out to me. “Can I help you?”

Simon slips his hands into his pockets.

No intention of shaking my hand.

Meaning this little prick is insecure as fuck around someone like me.

Just from my sheer size.

I lumber toward him. “Who painted all these?”

“Name is on the artwork,” Simon says.

“Your name?”

“No. I can’t take credit for any of these. I was the kid who couldn’t even color in the lines. Get what I’m saying?”

“Right. So what do you do here?”

“I’m sorry?”

“Do you work here? Are you a cashier? Accountant?”

“I’m… I don’t really understand what you’re asking…” Simon lifts an eyebrow. “Are you looking for the owner of the building? If so, that’s me. Are you selling something?”

“I’m in the market to buy.”

“This building?”

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