3. Ruined
1074 Words
Her eyes remained fixated on the painting as she nodded. "She's stunning in person. Well, I know she isn't a person. What I mean is… she's far more magnificent than she seems in this book."
My gaze was drawn to the small book she was clutching on her chest. "You have a copy of Souls in the Canvas?"
She smiled at me, flashing her gorgeous set of teeth. I, on the other hand, was mesmerized by the way she smiled. If I only had a blank canvas and a set of paints now, I'd gladly paint her on the spot.
"Yes, mister. I purchased this book with the first money I received from my part-time work," she stated, before returning her gaze to the painting. "Oh, my goodness! She's truly divine and bursting with life. The hue, the texture, and the color harmony. This is flawless! She was painted meticulously. You know what, I'm dreaming of meeting Paloma's painter someday."
Mister?
I tilted my head, slightly confused by how she approached me. I wanted to laugh, though. This lady didn't seem to realize she was speaking with the artist who painted the portrait she admired so much.
"So, you're an art lover?" I asked.
"I'm also a painter," she said and her gaze roved over the lobby as she sighed. "Oh no, there are a lot of people here. I have no idea which of them is Lawrence." Her shoulders sagged. "Anyway, even if I approach him, he might not speak to me."
My brows furrowed. "How did you come up with that?"
"He's a snob and a grouch. That's what I've heard from my sources regarding him. He only speaks with influential people."
Me? A snob and a grouch?
I suddenly let out a laugh that I had been suppressing for some minutes. This girl was driving me insane.
"And why are you laughing?"
I shook my head. "I just don't expect that." Damn, I like her already.
Don't get me wrong. I love my girlfriend. This young lady, however, was reawakening the young soul in me. Her sincerity and outspokenness drew my attention to her. "If it's okay with you, kid, may I ask your name?"
"Kid?" Her brows furrowed. "Hey, I'm not a kid. I'm twenty years old."
"Sorry, my bad. I'm not very adept at guessing a person's age." I smiled at her, this time it was more genuine because I was interested in learning more about her. "So, young woman, what's your name?"
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Nina, soon to be a professional painter. You? What's your name, by the way?"
I turned to face her after taking a few steps back. "I'm the person you're looking for."
Her eyes gradually grew wide. "No way." Then she gasped. "So, you mean to say that you are—"
"Lawrence!"
I grimaced.
Everything around me darkened and crept up as I heard that gruff and proud voice. When his large palm rested on my shoulder, goosebumps sprung on my skin.
"Can you tell me why you didn't invite me?" he asked in a demanding tone.
I fixed my gaze on him, even though the gleaming necklaces dangling from his neck made it difficult to do so. "You've got a lot on your plate. Uncle Bill, I figured you'd just ignore me if I invited you."
"Whatever." He cut me off and then reached into his pocket for something. He took out a checkbook and wrote in it. "Can't believe I still have to do this."
The next thing I knew, he was waving that piece of cheque in front of my face. "Ten million pesos for your precious Paloma. What do you say, son? I know you're not going to let me down this time. You'll accept my offer and start a new life. Just imagine the things you could do with this amount of money. Right, Lawrence?"
My eyes narrowed. "No, sir."
"N-no?" He drew closer, his brows were wrinkled. "So you want me to make it twice as big? Or maybe tripled? What exactly do you mean by "no"?"
Because of the close distance between us, I could smell the cigarette smoke on his coat which made my stomach turn. "Paloma is not for sale," I mumbled. "You can purchase any of my paintings here but not Paloma. I can't imagine her hanging on your illegal club's wall."
He gave me a cold stare while pointing his index finger at my face. "You're a complete moron, Lawrence! So you think your painting skills will help you get out of the muck where you came from? Let me tell you something: painting is for those who just want to get away from life until they're sick of it. Your so-called painting career is rubbish! Exactly like you!"
How could this old man despise the things I loved doing? Damn, I was used to his insults and bad treatment, but not this time. He couldn't just humiliate me in my exhibition and in front of my guests!
"Then, how about your drug and smuggling operations, Uncle Bill? Aren't they rubbish too?"
He clenched his teeth and spoke to me in a dangerous tone. "Boy, you have no idea what you're talking about. Careful with your words."
"Of course I know what I'm talking about." I took a step closer to him and grumbled into his ear. "You're a drug lord who sells prostitutes and harasses minors."
"Lawrence! I'm warning you!"
Now we were calling more attention. I didn't care, though. If he wanted a scene, so be it! Now he was the one who had been taken off guard.
"Isn't this exactly what you're looking for? To be the focus of everyone's attention? Take advantage of it while it lasts!" My jaws were clenched. My fists were trembling, itching to strike his wrinkled face, only I didn't want to injure an older person.
"Don't be surprised if I didn't invite you. It's simply because you don't belong here." I indicated the front entrance. "Now go find yourself somewhere else! If you're still concerned about your honorable name, you'll get out of here!"
"Poor boy!" he snarled. "You just picked a dagger that would stab you in the chest."
He walked out the door, glaring at me one more time. I, on the other hand, was left dumbfounded. s**t, my dream art exhibition had just been ruined.
- Writer
