Demons at the Door

Not your average day off.

Today was a day off, away from mysterious men, bothersome exes and creeps. Today was my day to relax, take some me time and catch up on tv shows I've missed or do any chores that might need doing.

Well, I say it's my day off, but for most of the morning, I have been staring at the floral arrangement sat in my lounge window. As if the sunflowers, pale pink roses and orange lilies weren't bright enough, the sun had been shining on them, illuminating their presence in the room. 

I've got up and left the room a few times, determined not to be fazed and to focus my mind on something else, but I've found myself back in the lounge, sat looking at them.

Which means I inevitably think of the man who gifted me them, along side the rosary which is sat in it's case on my coffee table. I had even gone as far as trying to work out what kind of man Zak is by his handwriting...

It was a long morning.

Now I was positive of three things.
1. The flowers were beautiful and I will keep them.
2. The rosary is beautiful, but expensive and it will need to be returned.
3. I can't read handwriting.

I almost chew my lip raw as the last words of Avery float into my mind. A part of me wants to disregard what she said, where as another part of me wants to act on it.

'If you want to know what kind of guy he is, why don't you just go to his museum?' 

Like an echoing taunt, I spend another hour arguing with myself over it, before leaving my apartment and doing exactly what I said I wouldn't do.. 

I go to his museum.

******

It's not a hard building to miss, with it's large sign, high iron fence and swooping roof. I wasn't sure what to expect when I grabbed an Uber, but it certainly wasn't a red tiled building with light masonry paint.

Maybe more of a tall worn down building with a sinister look and a creaky gate. I may have let my imagination run wild with that... 

But as I join the line of eager customers, I am a little blown away with the neatly kept lawn, picnic benches, air misters and parking lot. The line is long, and people of all ages and backgrounds are here, chatting amongst themselves, full of excitement. I heard a couple mention that it's the place to be right now and that they can't wait to see an exhibition that Zak had just installed.

It's not long until I am grateful of Zak's customer service skills, as I stand near an air mister, letting it cool my skin from the hot Vegas weather. Popping my head out the line, I see a clipboard being passed around and others holding sheets of paper. Whatever is on them causes a stir of excitement which only makes me more intrigued. 

"Excuse me ma'am?"

I look away from the queue in front to the person who has just spoke, instead of a tourist or a customer, I find myself looking at a heavy set security guard who looks mean as hell. 

"Can I help?" I ask. 

He looks down on me in an intimidating glare before speaking "I'd like you to come with me."

I frown. "But why?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that." 

My mind goes on the defence and I instantly fold my arms. "Why not? Why do I have to go with you? Who are you anyway?"

"Ma'am please do not cause a scene. I am a member of security and I am asking you to come with me."

"But I don't want to." I tell him, feeling a little panicky over having to leave my place in the line after waiting so long and having to give up my spot under the air mister.