Page 31 of Impregnated By the Alpha

Cleaning the studio was my favorite part of the week because it meant I got to look at the work of the artists on display. Luckily, that was what Walter had in mind for me today.

“We have a new artist bringing in some work the day after tomorrow, so we’ll have an uptick in foot traffic,” he explained. “I want to make sure we get the floors mopped beforehand, so we don’t have to worry about doing it later on when it gets busier.”

“You got it, boss,” I said.

I took the broom, mop, and bucket through the side door between the shop and studio and began to sweep, making sure to get all the dust out of the corners.

Just as I was setting up the wet floor signs to begin mopping, the bell on the front door jingled.

“Luna, they don’t have you mopping floors now, do they?” a voice said.

I turned to look at who had come in and saw two of the older females from the pack—Phyllis and Margaret—who I knew to be close friends with Diana. They had been at the party for a little while last night, and while I had spoken with them briefly, I wasn’t entirely sure they had been won over yet. I put on my bravest, kindest face and braced for a possible confrontation as I walked over to speak with them.

“Good morning, ladies,” I said. “And yes, I am definitely mopping the floors. Nile and I both believe that leadership works best when we’re willing to do even the dirtiest of jobs.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Margaret said.

“It’s refreshing to hear that kind of attitude from young people,” Phyllis added. “Gives me hope for future generations.”

I smiled at their kindness. It seemed that today was going to be a good day after all.

“Is there anything that brought you in today? Can I help you find anything, or were you just wanting to look at the art?” I asked.

“We were hoping there would be some new art on display, but I see it’s the same as last week. Pity,” Phyllis said.

“Walter did say that some new art will be installed later this week. Maybe you’d like to come back in a few days and check again?” I offered.

Margaret shrugged. “I suppose we will, but that doesn’t help us much today,” she said.

“Now, wait a minute,” Phyllis interjected, pointing her finger in my direction. “I heard that you’re something of an artist yourself, Luna. Is that true?”

“Nothing like what you see here, but I do enjoy it,” I said.

“What do you paint, dear?” Margaret asked.

“Well—” I hesitated, unsure if I was overstepping my job by offering what I was about to offer. “I do have some pictures on my phone if you’d like to look at them?”

I pulled out my phone and opened it to my gallery, selecting the album where I had photographed the pieces I had been working on since I came to Pinedale. Margaret took my phone, tilting the screen so that both women could view the pictures. I watched as their faces turned from kind observation to growing interest, finally settling into a look of admiration.

“Luna Violet, these are stunning,” Phyllis finally said.

“Thank you,” I said.

“You said that youdabbled, Luna,” Margaret said. “This is professional work here. You should have these on display. You could make a fortune, especially if you allowed people to commission your work.”

The door between the studio and shop opened behind me, and Walter came into the room.

“Good morning, Phyllis, Margaret. Is Violet helping you find everything you need?” he asked.

His eyebrows furrowed as he saw them looking at my phone, and he cocked his head in confusion.

“Now she has,” Margaret said. “Walter, have you seen these?”

She passed the phone to him, and his face went through the same transformation that theirs had.

“My goodness, Luna. You’ve been holding out on me,” Walter said, wagging his finger at me in mock admonishment. “Are these acrylic or oil?”

“Acrylic,” I replied.

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