Art Acquisition

Kurt took a long, painful breath before contorting his body to fit between the dumpster and the side of his brick apartment building. The Grand Am's screeching tires sent shivers up his spine. Closing his eyes, he listened as Mark and Orlando exited the car and shuffled by the alley.

"Where did he go?" Orlando said.

"Damn, he's fast," Mark said.

The two men stopped at the opening of the alley. They kicked through some discarded boxes as they peered into every dark corner. The men growled, unable to see Kurt, who had wiggled into the middle, allowing darkness and shadows to surround him.

"We're going to be late," Mark said, looking at his watch. 

"You can't run forever," Orlanda's deep voice boomed. "We will find you."

The engine roared off into the distance as Kurt wiggled free. Rounding the corner, he scanned his key and bolted through the front door. Two steps at a time, the anxious man's legs stretched as Kurt made his way to his fifth-floor apartment. His fingers trembled as he put his key in the lock. Slamming it shut, he bolted the lock and chain before letting out a deep sigh of relief as his back slid down the thick wooden door. 

Kurt rolled his neck under the steaming hot water, allowing it to flush away the day's tension. He'd have to be more careful; Tony's goons would watch this street for a while, hoping to catch him coming and going. Wrapping his towel around his waist, he wiped away the condensation on the mirror and stared into his reflection. 

"How many times do you have to make the same mistake before you learn?" Kurt said before letting out a disappointed sigh. "She wasn't just any married woman, Kurt; she was the wife of a local crime lord, Tony Lo Faro. You really know how to pick them, don't you?"

A quick inventory of his kitchen the following morning told him he could ride it out inside the building for two weeks. He kept a careful eye out the window to observe the variety of the situation. 

Late afternoon, a black Grand Am parked just down the street. The two men crouched down, passing binoculars between them as they peered into windows. Taking turns, they went through apartment buildings, "convincing" building managers to provide them with a tenant list. A quick trip to the super ensured his apartment would be listed as vacant when the bribe was taken. 

Kurt stayed to the inner walls, leaving his lights out, staying low when he moved about. Three nights in boredom got the best of the up-and-coming artist. Using the shadows as a shield, he painted the street scene below, emphasizing every perceived hillbilly flaw of the goons tracking him. 

"I'm a reclusive artist," Kurt told his agent over the phone. "The mystery is what makes them want me."

"And do they want you," Abby said in her seductive promo voice. "I'm just saying this is a serious buyer, and he is willing to pay double to meet with you and discuss your work before they take it home."

"I don't know. "

"Kurty baby, this could propel you to the next level. You could move out of that crappy apartment to something a little more upscale."

Kurt groaned.

"It's a whole new class of women, too," Abby sang, holding the ending for a four count. 

"Uh, damn," Kurt huffed.

"You're not going to regret it. I promise."

"Where and when?"

"Tomorrow night. Eight O'Clock. The gallery. Come in the back and mask up before entering the main floor."

"Alright, see you then."

Upon surveying the street from his bedroom window, Kurt felt relieved to find it empty of prying eyes as he prepared to leave the following evening. 

"You're running out of beef jerky and toilet paper," he said to himself. "And let's not forget you could really use the cash."

Taking one last look out the building's front doors, Luke confirmed it was safe to proceed. Throwing his hood over his head, he stepped out onto the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets and headed to the art gallery. 

"Looks like a good turnout tonight," Kurt said to Abby as he entered the rear of the building. 

"Your admirers brought some extra art enthusiasts with them," Abby said, standing and walking around her desk. "Put on your mask and jacket, and let's make some money."

 Kurt took a deep breath before cracking his neck, "Let's go."

Abby wrapped her arm around Kurt's and led him to the gallery floor. Patrons pointed and whispered as they made their way across the room. Kurt nodded to several people who raised their complimentary glasses of wine while Abby rattled on about the connections this buy could foster. 

"He's got reach. Ties to some high-profile buyers I wouldn't mind rubbing elbows with, and you shouldn't either."

Coming up to his latest piece, Kurt scanned the back of the man, admiring it. He was tall, well-dressed, and had short black hair. 

"If you think about it, money is money, right?" Abby continued rambling on.

"What?"

"Okay, there he is," Abby said, stopping and facing Kurt. "Be charming and mysterious."

"What do you mean 'money is money,'" Kurt inquired.

"Let's just say a portion of their business is kept off the books," Abby fluffed her hair.

"Wait, just who am I meeting?"

"One Tony Lo Faro."

Before Kurt could protest, Abby pulled him forward.

"Mr. Lo Faro," Abby said, touching him lightly on the shoulder, "I would like you to meet the creator of the piece you wish to acquire, Quinn Love."

Kurt's chest puffed out as he gasped. Tense and rigid, he extended his hand, and the two men shook. 

"Please, call me Tony." Lo Faro smiled at Abby and then turned his attention to Kurt. "What do you use for inspiration, Mr. Love?"

"Um...well," Kurt stuttered. "I'm very fond of the female form...and...um... often employ various models...to inspire the basic shape of a piece."

"Interesting," Tony said as he sipped his glass of red wine. This piece here has a familiar feeling." 

Kurt cleared his throat, knowing that Tony's wife was the model he used to inspire the painting they were examining. 

"Sometimes it's unclear," Kurt chuckled nervously, "why one connects with a piece of art."

"That is so true," Abby said, bringing herself into the conversation. "The vibe reaches into your soul and moves you like it knows something you don't."

Kurt choked on his own breath, coughing loudly, then pounding his fist off his chest. 

"Are you okay?" Abby chuckled, raising her hand to her chest in an overexaggerated motion. 

"Yeah," Kurt's voice was almost a whisper, "sometimes the mask, you know."

"The price of fame and anonymity." Tony raised his glass. 

"Right," Luke cleared his throat. 

"If you'll excuse me for a moment," Abby said, "I must see to the paperwork."

Like magic, Abby disappeared into the crowd. The gifted artist took slow, deep breaths. Standing next to the husband of his newest lover, the regretful man focused on staying calm and collected until he could find a safe way to exit the disfavorable situation.  

"To be honest," Tony continued after drinking, "I wouldn't have known of your work if it wasn't for my wife."

"Is that so?" Kurt's voice went up an octave.

"Yes, her taste is so much more refined than mine. Where I see a couch or a table, she sees an experience or an affair."

"She must have a keen eye."

"Indeed she does. Don't you, darling?" Tony said, kissing his wife as she came to his side.

"I like to think so, anyway," she said, brushing her hand over her husband's chest. 

"Darling, meet Quinn Love." Tony proceeded to make introductions. "Mr. Love, my wife, Gabrielle."

"Nice to meet you," she extended her hand.

"Gabrielle," Kurt accepted the gesture, "nice to meet you."

"I was just telling Mr. Love here that there is something familiar about his painting that we are to acquire."

"Familiar, you say," Gabby shot Kurt a naughty look.

Sweat beaded up under his mask. Grabbing at the nose, he shook it like a damp t-shirt before sliding his fingers up and under, pulling the fabric away from his cheeks. 

"Are you sure everything is okay?" Tony asked.

"Oh, um," Kurt stumbled. "I'm having some technical issues. Please excuse me for a moment to attend to the matter."

"Of course," Tony said, running his hand down his wife's back. 

Bursting into the men's room, Kurt ripped off his mask. He cupped his hands together, splashing cold water on his face. 

"What the hell?" he said.

Suddenly, the door popped open, and Gabrielle stepped inside. 

"What are you doing in here?" Kurt's voice was unsteady. "Are you trying to get us both killed?"

"What did you expect me to do?" Gabby asked, batting her eyes. "You stopped taking my calls and weren't returning my text messages. I needed to see you."

"I can't see you anymore. Do you know who your husband is?"

"I told you I was married. You said it didn't matter." The persistent woman stepped toward her prey.

"That was before I knew your husband was Tony Lo Faro."

"Kurty, come on," she said, fiddling with his jacket as she backed him into the counter. "I know you've missed me. " 

Undoing the button and zipper on his, Gabby reached down his pants.

"No." Kurt tried and failed to pull her hand away from his family jewels. "We can't."

"But we can. It would be so good," Gabrielle groaned.

Placing her mouth close to his neck, she breathed on his skin, snapping to attention his private member. 

"See. Someone is happy to see me."

"Noooo," Kurt whined as Gabrielle went to work, her lips gliding across his skin.

"Touch me, Kurty, touch me," she whispered in his ear. 

Unable to stop himself, Kurt placed his hands on Gabrielle's round, plump buttox and lifted her up onto the counter. Pulling her dress down off her shoulders, he exposed her breasts. Gabrielle moaned as Kurt took her nibble in his mouth. Licking between her breasts and up to her neck, he shimmied down his jeans, hiked up Gabby's dress, and took her right there in the men's room of the gallery.

"Did you really take me for that big a fool?" Tony asked as he entered the bathroom, Orlando and Mark filing in behind him.

The indisposed couple pulled away from each other, each shocked and trembling. 

"Honey, I can explain," Gabrielle's voice quivered.

Tony walked calmly up to his half-naked wife. His large hands grasped her by the arms, pulling her down from the counter. Shoving her arms back into her dress, he tossed her to Mike and motioned for him to leave. 

"Tony, please," she cried. "I'm sorry."

The crime lord sniffed hard, pulling a cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket. 

"I know we're not supposed to smoke inside buildings nowadays, but I could use a smoke." He paused, eyeing Kurt, then continued, "You might want to pull up your pants."

"Shit," Kurt whispered, pulling up his jeans and fussing with his zipper. "Look," he took a hard gulp, "I didn't know she was married."

"Maybe at first," Tony lit up, taking a long drag. "I can believe that, but what about the second, third, or fourth time? Hell, what about right now?"

"I broke it off as soon as I knew and," Kurt stammered, "as for now. I didn't mean for it to happen. She was just so damn persuasive."

"Preaching to the choir, my man." Tony nodded to Orlando, who stood guard against the door, and the two men laughed. "I might have let it go if you hadn't hadn't screwed my wife in the bathroom five minutes after meeting me."

"Mr. Lo Faro, please, I swear it will never happen again."

"No, it won't." Tony dropped his butt on the floor, smushed it out, and headed back to the gallery floor, "Orlando."

"With Pleasure," Orlando said. "You've got an appointment."

Kurt scampered backward as Orlando grasped his upper arm. The tall, well-built man smirked at Kurt's seeping fear. Swiping his mask from the counter, Kurt forced his head inside as he was pulled past the door's threshold. Kurt's left shoulder was slightly elevated as his legs moved double-time to keep up with Orlando.

"Ah, Gentlemen," Abby swept across their path, "I have everything set up in conference room one. Right this way."

Tony held his arm out to Abby, who took it eagerly and with a playful giggle. Orlando shoved Kurt into the room as Tony escorted Abby to the front of the rectangular table. Gabriella was stashed in the back corner, guarded by her parole officer. The terrified woman lifted from her chair as Kurt was brought into the room. Mark shot her a fast, stern glare, sending her back to her seat with her eyes on the floor. 

The budding artist dragged his feet as Orlando thrust him to the other side of the table and into a seat. Abby chirped along, oblivious to the growing tension in the room. 

"Alright now, if you initial here, here, and here, it will be wrapped, shipped, and hung in your home. All you have to do is tell them where to hang it."

"Sounds good," Tony's deep voice tickled the bones of the gallery owner. 

"And sign here to signify the purchases." Abby slid a document and pen across the table to Kurt, "Love, you sign that granting me consent to the sale."

Abby's eyes gleamed as she pulled both documents back. Charmed by the sizable commission she was about to receive, her hand swiftly glided the pen across both documents.

"And done," Abby said, setting the pen on the table. "Mr. Lo Faro, you are now the proud owner of a Quinn Love original."

"Perfect," Tony nodded to Orlando, who ripped off Kurt's mask. 

"Come on, man," Kurt's voice cracked as he looked nervously back and forth between the two men.

Abby gasped at the sight of the gun Orlando pulled from inside his jacket. A snap of Tony's fingers prompted Mike to toss Orlando a silencer, which he screwed on with precision and speed.

"No!" Gabrielle screamed out, jumping from her chair only to return to it with a jerking force.

Abby carefully stepped away from the table as Orlando placed the barrel on Kurt's head. Waiting on his signal, he stood unemotional. Tony looked at his wife, shivering and trembling in the corner, then her lover, then his right-hand man who pulled the trigger. 

The bullet tore through Kurt's head, exiting the other side, splattering blood across the room, Abby, and the painting he just sold. Tony straightened his tie, nodded to his goons, and stood. As he took the shaking hand of the gallery owner to kiss it goodbye, Mike and Orlando escorted his wife out to their car. 

"My men will close down for the night and," Tony paused, waving his hand, "take care of this."

"Um, okay," Abby stuttered.

"You'll get that painting sent out to me tomorrow?"

"Of course," Abby wiped some blood off her hand. 

"Just think of it this way," Tony turned to face her as he reached the door. "Now, instead of taking a measly commission, you get the whole damn pot."

"Oh, yeah," the corner of Abby's lips curled into a smile. 

"Nice doing business with you," Tony tipped his invisible hat and walked out the door.