I quietly sneak out of the apartment, trying not to wake James. He was drunk last night as always, and never wakes up happy. I collect my new drawings and art work out of the 4x4 metre apartment and leave, wishing that the door does not squeak. But yet it does. As always. Louder than ever.
'Huh?'
Shit.
He's awake.
'Penny?' He asks. 'Penny, get here now!' I slam the door, and run. Press "down" on the elevator and jog nervously on the spot. Once it opens I push "g", and jump out again, heading for the stairs. As I shut the door for the stairs, I hear the door to my apartment open, and I watch through the key hole as a angry man stomps through the hall in his underwear and smashes at the "down" button for the door to open. His face goes tense and red.
Cue the constant cursing
'Penny you fucking son of a bitch!'
And then I skip down the stairs.
Works every time.
I chuck my backpack and handful of work on the passenger seat as I slide into my truck. It's a manly ute, but comfy and gets me from A to B. That is when I remember ( or have the money ) to fill up. It chugs for ten seconds before starting, but I know she'll always work for me. From the garage I drive down to the town market.
Once I park, I sling my bag over my shoulder and jump out. I always keep my fold out table and chair in my old beauty, so I grab them too. I then head to my selling spot next to Ms Mulbry and her flirtatious gimpy son, I set up and then I'll sit.
My morning daily routine, done.
As I straighten the last piece of art sitting on my table, a glare disrupts me. A glossy red convertible pulls up behind my truck. Making old beauty look more crap than she already is. Mr. Fancy hops out of his car, trousers -even though it's summer- a navy blue tie and FBI sunglasses.
'What's he doing in this crud-hole?' Ms Mulbry asks me. She's basically my Aunty, she seems like one.
'Obviously lost' I laugh, but my heart's not in it. My heart is in my confusion. I stare at him, and it's at least a minute before I notice that he is staring at me too.
Well done dipshit.
I go back to straightening my work, so that they are all on display, and shown to perfection for my first customer. A shadow stops my squinting from the sun. And I look up.
'Hey how can...'
Hello Mr. Fancy
'I...help..you.' I can't see any of his features other than tall and white blinding teeth.
'These are really good' he says picking up my worst piece. I notice his large enthusiasm toward my work.
Is he being sarcastic?
'Oh, thanks. Do you like art?' He takes off his glasses.
Daayyyyyyum.
Beautiful bright blue eyes astonish me.
' I'm looking for art to hang up on my walls, and a artist to paint some murals for me. Are you interested?'
Ummmmmm
'Yeah, really interested. But I don't have the large equipme....'
'I'll pay for equipment to and hours and anything you need. But does $200 an hour fit well with you? You can stay over for nights if you want.'
Cha-ching, do it! Get away from James! Don't you dare say no!
'Yeah sure, sound great. I need to know what you want first, like colours and pictures and how big aswell.'
'I'll take you home now'
WTF?
'Ok'