For The Love of Art

Chapter One

Art is the only serious thing in the world. And the artist is the only person who is never serious.

-Oscar Wilde

It had been the third time in a week of which I'd been paid a visit by Ivan, the building's owner, and if he was going to repeat the same lecture as the other two previous times, I was going to rip both mine, and his hair, out. The little he had anyway.

So I was behind four months in rent...yada, yada, yada. Owning your own business was tough, and he of all people should've understood that. Oh, right, he did, which was why he was in my gallery again asking for the money I owed him, but it's not like he was saying anything I hadn't heard before. And as tempting as it was to repeat the words droning out of his mouth, my lips remained sealed and jittery hands hung by my sides with an itch to paint, letting the middle-aged man finish his speech.

Ivan was a sweet, southern gentleman and a pushover, which was why I had taken advantage of him for so long, making up excuse after excuse of why I couldn't hand over some money. The truth was that I was broke, and call me a bitch, but the man needed to grow a backbone. If he did, maybe people would start to take him seriously.

"--and am I talking to myself again, Piper?" Hands flew exasperatedly in the air, drawing my attention back to a chubby, tomato red face. He'd surely pop if I poked him. "Look, you're a bright, young woman, and the wife and I like you, but we ain't playin' around no more. We'll give you one more month to sort yourself out, otherwise you'll be gone for good. D'ya understand?"

Of course I understood what he was saying. I wasn't mentally deficient, though I sometimes had my moments. So, to answer Ivan's question, my head nodded twice with a tight lipped smile, internally thinking about how screwed I was. There was no way I'd have the thousands I owed by the end of the month. I had to come up with a plan, and I had to do it quick.

"Good," he continued. "I'll see you soon, and I'm sorry it's come to this."

Based on the pained and weary expression he wore, I knew he'd been sincere, and I appreciated it. "Me, too, Ivan. Me, too."

He tipped his head in my direction before letting himself out, and the bat took that as its cue to come out of its cave.

"God, I thought he'd never leave. He was putting me to sleep back there!"

Whirling around to face my friend, I raised an eyebrow at his currently yawning figure. "That's all you do in the office anyway, so I highly doubt he was the cause. Do me a favor and remind me why you're here again."

"Ouch, Pipe." He flung a hand against his chest and feigned hurt. "Do me a favor and remind me why I put up with your abuse. Don't think I won't call social services on you."

"Go ahead," I grinned evilly, challenging him. "They'll just laugh at you for being a grown man who's a cry baby."

If Axl wasn't offended before, he was now. Or he could've just been playing. After almost twenty years of us being best friends, there were times when it was still difficult to tell.

His face fell at my last comment and I fought the urge to laugh, straining the muscles in my face not to move. "There is nothing wrong with a man being sensitive. In fact, women love it."

I did like my fair share of men who were big softies at heart, especially when we were alone, but Axl was one all the damn time, and lazy on top of it. "Ah, you're right." My hand rested above my eyes as I shielded them, looking out of the gallery's glass windows. "I can see them lined up outside for you."

My friend laughed and flipped me off, muttering a 'fuck you' before plopping his bottom on the chair behind the front desk. He rubbed his hands over his face, continuing up until they were pushing his sandy blond hair away from his forehead, his face growing serious as he looked at me again. "I can talk to my parents--"

"About your herpes?" He rolled his blue eyes at my joke. "Go ahead, but if it's about what Ivan was just here for, you'll do no such thing."

The last of my sentence was firm, effectively stopping Axl's thoughts, his face morphing into pure annoyance. I could see ideas brewing inside his head, and there was not a chance in hell that I'd let him ask for money from his parents for my failing business. It was my fault that I didn't listen to my own when they told me not to open an art gallery, and I refused to let his take responsibility for my stupidity, even if they were one of the wealthiest couples in South Carolina.

"If you're worried about paying them back, I know they won't let you. You're like a daughter to them, so can you put your pride aside for, like, five minutes and just accept it?"

"My pride is about the only thing I have left right now, Ax." Shit, my stupid throat was getting tight and if I allowed my tear ducts to open, they wouldn't close for the rest of the day. There were too many emotions ready to burst from inside of me. "You can continue to ask all you want, but the answer will still be no."

"Alright, I'm just trying to give you some ideas." He held his hands up in surrender, huffing out a loud breath as he exhaled.

Minutes ticked by as Axl continued to irritatingly drum his fingers against the wood where he sat, while I busied myself by tidying up display cases which housed pottery, and straightening sculptures made by other local artists as I made my way across the gallery floor. Soon enough, I'd have to tell everyone that they'd have to take their work somewhere else to be sold, and that was going to be both embarrassing and disappointing. People put their trust in me with what they were passionate about, and I wasn't able to help them.

"I've got it!"

I'd been expecting Axl to blurt out an idea, but I hadn't expected him to scream it and create an echo, almost making me drop the clay vase I held in my hands.

"Remember to use your inside voice like we talked about, Ax."

"Shut up and listen!" He beamed, sending the chair he'd been sitting on flying back as he stood. "I can't believe we didn't think of this first."

At least he'd been able to think straight. I was too hung up on being a failure in life and using cleaning as a distraction. "Think of what?"

"It's what we used to do when we first opened a couple years ago!" He quickly walked over to me and gripped my shoulders, bending to stare directly into my eyes.

"If you don't spit it out in the next ten seconds, so help me God..."

"A show, Pipe. We can have another show to sell some of your pieces and use the money earned to stay here until we think of something else."

He was right! How did we not think of that sooner? It was so obvious. Two years ago when people heard about an art gallery opening, they were more than just excited for it to bring some life to their little town and crowded the place, buying whatever they could. It had been a success, bringing in money I'd only dreamt of, and I didn't need to have another one until, well, now.

"I knew there was a reason I kept you around for so long." Tapping Axl's temple with my index finger, I broadened my smile to match his.

"I already know you love me. There's no need to say it."

Yeah, let's not get ahead of ourselves...