Kazimir was giddy for the exhibit. He could barely sit still long enough to eat supper. It had been a dream of his to have his artwork presented in such a glorious place for people to purchase. It was on a whole new level from his meager trade at the flea market.
With the weather being in the low thirties that night, Kazimir made sure to bundle up in his gray wool coat. He shivered beside his roommate Jordy, who wore a puffer coat and beanie to keep warm. When they approached the colossal art gallery building, Jordy hurried ahead to open the glass door for them, allowing Kazimir to bathe in the warm heat that furnished the inside.
Combing his fingers through his tousled dark brown hair, Kazimir did his best to fix it. The artist dressed his best that night, donning a nice dress shirt and new pair of black denim jeans. He wanted to make a good first impression on the art gallery’s manager and the buyers.
A chandelier hung above them, and a ceiling mural of clouds and angels floated in the painted sky. It was beautiful. Making their way toward the showcasing room, Kazimir pulled out the laminated card from his pocket that the owner had gave him. It provided him access to other rooms in the building if needed and helped employees recognize him as one of the artists versus a potential buyer.
“Welcome back, Kazimir. Jordy.” The polite older gentleman guarding the door greeted them.
“Thanks, Nelson.” Kazimir smiled. “I can’t believe this is really happening. I’m so excited, but I’m also kinda nervous.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine.” Nelsen waved a dismissive hand. “I’ve seen your works. They’re amazing.”
“Right?” Jordy chimed in. “Kazimir’s art is so cool.”
Kazimir blushed. “Thank you both.”
“Y’all have fun tonight. Don’t get into any trouble now.” Nelson winked playfully.
“Don’t worry we won’t,” Kazimir told him.
Inside the spacious room, Kazimir admired the hundreds of beautiful paintings the galley held. Kazimir’s setup was next to an older woman who created landscapes of a farm and barn animals. Jordy had helped him mount his artworks up earlier, before the buyers would arrive. Examining each individual piece he’d chosen, Kazimir couldn’t help but worry about people not being fond of his artworks, even after Jordy and the security guard’s praise.
Every painting told a story of love or heartbreak, capturing the beauty and sadness in their world. One piece depicted a couple ice skating together while another brought love to life with a young mother holding her son’s hand as they crossed down a beach. She reminded Kazimir a lot of his own mother, with her long curly brown hair and dimpled smile. Most all of his works focused greatly on detailing landscapes but lately he’d enjoyed creating fictional couples as his muse.
“You really think they’ll like them?” Kazimir asked Jordy, gesturing to the canvases they’d hung up on the wall.
“Of course, they’ll love it,” Jordy told him. “This is where art like yours belongs.”
“I agree with Jordy.”
Kazimir turned around at the sound of the familiar, friendly voice. It was their neighbor, Hank and his wife Barbara beside him. Barbara’s curly hair barely reached her dark-skinned shoulders. She wore a sleeveless white jumpsuit and high heels that made her seem much taller. Hank wore his regular old blue jeans and shaved his bushy mustache.
They were the first ones to welcome them to the neighborhood when they first moved into the apartment two weeks ago. Barbara even baked them some cookies to snack on while her husband helped unload some of their heavier belongings into the apartment.
“You’ll be one of those famous artists they’ll talk about for centuries in history textbooks,” Hank said. “I’m sure of it.”
Kazimir grinned. “Thank you so much.”
He loved when people noticed the talent he had with a paintbrush. He aspired to become a famous artist someday. He just had to keep pushing his art into galleries and other noteworthy places for people to discover. That was why he painted graffiti in New Syracuse. He needed to be noticed by someone, even if it was with a vague tag a local came up with for him: The Painter.
“This wall here has the best paintings in the entire gallery.” Hank gestured around the small space. “They must be worth like, thousands.”
“Five hundred for the landscapes and four-fifty for the abstract pieces,” Kazimir told him.
Hank theatrically gasped, gazing over at his wife. “Did you hear that, honey? A prominent artist is selling his paintings for such a cheap price? What a bargain.”
Barbara smiled. “It is. One of the landscape pieces would look lovely in our living room, don’t you think so?”
“Absolutely.” Hank paused to check his phone then slid it back in his pocket. “Sorry, just one of my friends calling.”
“If it’s important, you should step out for a moment,” Kazimir said.
“He’s probably just drunk off his ass again and needs a ride home. Nothing to worry about.”
Hank and Barbara settled on purchasing the sunset painting Kazimir created. While the fall colors were picturesque, the silhouettes of lovebirds on the branches weren’t a personal favorite of his.
There were so many things he could buy with five hundred dollars, but unfortunately, he wouldn’t receive all of that money. Everything in life came with a price, and since he really wanted to showcase his work, he had to sign a gallery contract agreeing to forty percent of the sale. But Kazimir knew it would all be worth it. All great artists started out small and unknown.
After they purchased the piece, Hank went to sit down. He rubbed his temples like he had developed a migraine. Kazimir suspected it was caused by the person who kept bugging him. Hank’s phone continued to ring throughout the rest of the night, and Kazimir noticed the mounting irritation on his neighbor’s face after the fifth time he dismissed the call.
“I’ll be right back,” Hank said suddenly. “I just need to make a quick call. I’m so sorry for this.”
“No need to apologize. I understand,” Kazimir replied.
“Is everything all right?” his wife asked.
“Yeah, I just need to see what he wants so he’ll leave me alone. I promise I’ll be right back, honey.” Hank got up and kissed her cheek. “Why don’t you check out some of the other paintings while I’m gone?”
Barbara seemed reluctant to let him walk off, but she didn’t chase after him. Instead, she turned to Kazimir and Jordy with a fleeting smile then wandered around the gallery like her husband suggested. Kazimir could tell she was a little on edge about whoever Hank kept disregarding.
The two of them made their way over to a little table that had wine and snacks. Jordy poured himself a glass of wine while Kazimir munched on a piece of cheese.
“That was strange.” Jordy took a sip of his wine.
“Yeah, I know. Who do you think was calling him?” Kazimir asked.
“Dunno.” Jordy shrugged. “It was clearly someone he didn’t want to deal with tonight.”
By the time the gallery was closing, Kazimir managed to sell half of his paintings. It was a good start. Most of that money would go toward more art supplies. Canvases, oils, and turpentine weren’t cheap. He had to keep enough saved up for his precious coke too. While he was going over the inventory report, he thanked the manager, Fraser Gallagher for letting him show his art there.
“It was a pleasure having you here tonight, Kazimir. I look forward to working with you in the future.” Fraser looked down at his Apple watch. “Well, I best be going. You have a goodnight now.”
“Thanks. You do the same,” Kazimir replied.
Once he left, Kazimir and Jordy prepared to head out too. Just as they walked toward the entrance, Barbara hurried over to them.
“Have either of you seen Hank?”
“Not since he left to take that call,” Jordy replied.
“Maybe he’s still talking to that person?” Kazimir suggested.
Barbara frowned. “For this long?”
“Is it possible he drove somewhere else?” Kazimir asked her. “Maybe he had to go pick up that friend he mentioned.”
“He would have told me,” she insisted. “I tried calling him but it goes straight to voicemail.”
“He’s probably still outside,” Jordy assured her. “Let’s go see if y’all’s truck is still in the parking lot. If it is, then we’ll know he’s still somewhere around the art gallery.”
Mist swallowed the buildings like smoke from a withering fire. The moon was obscured behind the thick stormy clouds. Wind rustled against Kazimir as they walked past the decrepit buildings. It was despairing how so many places went out of business.
When they reached the truck, Hank was nowhere to be found. Barbara tried calling him again, but it went to voicemail. Kazimir suggested they cross the street and check over at the community park, so they did.
Silhouettes of trees blended into the inky night. Leaves rustled underfoot as they crossed the path. Kazimir frowned at the weird historical statue of a man holding a book and feeding a pigeon. Even though it wasn’t real, it still unnerved him. Birds scared the living daylights out of Kazimir.
The artist drew his attention to the water fountain that had been shut off, studying the unclear shadow of a person from a distance. He blinked and it was gone. It had to be his eyes playing tricks on him. Or maybe it was the dim park lamps messing with his vision. They barely provided enough light for him to see.
Ahead, someone slouched up against the bench at the very bottom. Kazimir squinted his eyes as he tried to make out the figure sitting on the bench beneath the flickering park lamp. Barbara hurried ahead of them, assuming it was her husband. Had Kazimir known what lied ahead, he would have stopped her and held her back. But it was too late. The piercing agony of her screams sent chills against Kazimir’s skin.
“Hank!” With a shaky hand, Barbara reached down to feel his pulse, but it was apparent to Kazimir that Hank was already gone – the concrete was stained in large, dry pools of blood. Hank’s face as pale as Kazimir’s shirt.
Seeing the blood drain from his lifeless body paralyzed Kazimir, bringing back old memories he didn’t want resurfaced. As Barbara frantically wailed for help, he saw his own mother’s heartache in her painful expression. He could still see his mother weep over his father’s bleeding body, begging God not to take him away from her.
“Call 911!” Jordy’s voice seemed to be miles away, yet he was so close. “Kazimir! Call for help, now!”
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