The Marked One (The Marked Series Book 1) (4 page)

“You look exhausted. How was the job hunting?” Madeline had finished university a year before Aaliyah had, when she decided to do an exhibition and sold enough of her paintings to convince her grandfather she was good enough to do it as a full-time job. She had returned only the day before after doing an exhibition in New York, as the galleries in the Pittsburgh area weren’t ready for what she had to offer…or so Madeline had said to get away from time-to-time, even though she had the local galleries begging for her work.

“I will give you one guess. Go.” Aaliyah tried to play it up, but the ire was too prominent.

“
Furill
.” The Pittsburghese that Madeline used had momentarily confused Aaliyah, but she understood it well enough, so with a nod she gave her lustreless reply. “The bastards.” Madeline shook her head and suddenly began to dig around in the bag she carried with her.

To Aaliyah’s knowledge Madeline carried necessities, but also half her art studio in the thing to make sure moments could be captured right away if needed.

“Found it.” She hid whatever
it
was behind her. “Remember I said that, if I ever sold a painting of you—”

“No you didn’t! I’ll freaking kill you!” Aaliyah’s heart began pounding uncomfortably hard in her chest.

“I did, and for eight thousand dollars. It sure as fuck is worth it.” Madeline wasn’t kidding.

“Are you serious? That is…wow! That is more than one hundred twenty-five grand in Rands! Who the hell would—”

“Beats me, but the portrait was set to be sold for one thousand five hundred dollars and then those little sticker things…” Madeline motioned the stickers as if playing drums in the air, “…the buyers put next to the information plate, just filled up. The gallery brought the price up to five thousand and it sold.”

“But didn’t you say it sold for more?” Aaliyah was fidgeting with her cup of oolong tea’s ear.

“Bear with me.” Madeline received her fancy coffee creation and took a tentative sip. Aaliyah nearly shouted at her to go on. “So, after the gallery was just about to finish the deal, this man, who was the assistant of a
somebody
, stepped up with an offer of ten thousand, but the gallery’s policy for new artists is the max of five thousand.”

Madeline took another sip of her coffee, and the tension was all but killing Aaliyah.

“Now this assistant gave the bitchiest look ever. He called his boss and whoever
that
person was made the gallery owner nearly pee himself. They settled on eight thousand and…” Madeline brought
it
—an envelope—forward. “Here is your cut.”

Aaliyah still wasn’t pleased. “Who bought the painting?”

“They stayed anonymous, but your pretty face is now likely somewhere on a penthouse wall, buddy. Now, take your money.” Aaliyah refused to take it, so Madeline pushed the envelope into the front of Aaliyah’s dress. Their noisiness was noted by the other customers, so to keep the peace, she took the money and gained an evil smirk from Madeline. “Aaliyah, I hope you see now that you are fucking beautiful.”

“Maddy, quiet.” She eyed the other customers. “They likely bought it to make fun of me.” Madeline gave her a death stare. Aaliyah sighed and shook her head. “Promise me you aren’t selling any more of the paintings with me on.”

Madeline grinned far too evilly, “Weeelll…uhm?”

“What did you do?”

“See, this buyer.” Her hands were were all over the place, as she explained, “Well, they caused the original buyer and also many of the others…to want more.” Her smile stayed on.

“You can’t do the same painting.” Relief was hers for a moment. “Because then the person who got the painting now would just—”

“Liyah,
The Marked One
can’t ever be recreated.”

“You sold
that
one? Oh my word.” Aaliyah felt sick. She sat back into her seat and stared blankly at the table.

“Calm down. It is done. It was much harder for me to let go of it than it was for you, believe me.”

Aaliyah made a face at Madeline. She couldn’t understand what had come over her friend to include a portrait of her in an exhibition in the first place.

Madeline was unaffected by Aaliyah’s glare. “Well, my next exhibition is about you. And there are so many other portraits I’ve painted. Smaller, other mediums that can bring in money for us both. You know how this works. You get a third of my cut no matter what.”

“Nice poetry, but no more,” Aaliyah nearly begged. It was odd enough that her picture was somewhere in someone’s house, office, or wherever, and the idea was making her insecurities crawl out from where they had settled after the man outside the Gerardo building called her that awful name.

The Marked One
was a beautiful piece of art, but it showed her crying. She’d only agreed to allow Madeline to capture the moment in paint because she thought no one wanted to see sadness, but apparently she was dead wrong.

“Maddy, that painting showed me
really
crying.”

“I know and that is why it sold for so much. Fuck, we could’ve gotten way more.” Aaliyah sounded her displeasure with a grunt. “Aaliyah,
The Marked One
is a once-in-a-lifetime portrait. It opened so many doors for me and with your job hunting not going too well, I think we both know that you could use the money.”

Aaliyah thought it through and knew Madeline was right. The money in the envelope had just ensured she’d have a few more weeks to try staying in America.

She looked at Madeline. “And if someone recognises me?”

“Then you tell them, ‘Yes, I am
The Marked One
. I am the beautiful woman in the painting done by M. Spencer.’” Madeline was smirking all the way through and Aaliyah only shook her head. “Just say my name. That’s the best way we will become rich bitches.”

Aaliyah chuckled at her friend. “Are you sure you want me to be your subject? I mean, this city has—”

“I kind of got stuck with you.” Aaliyah rose her brows. “Four different galleries want to show my work with you as the focus. Nothing like
The Marked One
, but similar portraits.” Madeline sipped her coffee.

“How many and before when?” Aaliyah asked through clenched teeth, knowing Madeline well enough to know it was going to be a deadline type thing.

“Kinda before the end of the month.” Aaliyah shook her head. “It’s nothing. We will be fine. I have the four-piece thing from your second year, the black and white with the red mark on it.” Madeline thought for a second. “Oh, and the pixelated-style one could work, and the charcoal sketch, the popart-style one, and the one that is just the shape of your special mark.”

This specific one was the funniest. Madeline had traced Aaliyah’s birthmark directly from her face onto tracing paper before transferring it. They both laughed so much that she had to do it several times, because the laughing caused the outlining to be completely off.

“The gallery I’m looking at to do the exhibition with asked for ten, so four more proper portraits and we’ll be fixed.”

“I can’t believe I’m allowing you to do this.” Aaliyah sighed as Madeline kept smiling. “But you’re right. I need the money and you need me…and I guess I’m not getting out of this one.”

“This is uni all over again.” Madeline smiled. “So you’ll do it?”

“Expose myself?” Aaliyah looked at the customer sitting opposite them, who quickly averted his gaze when she looked at him. “Why the hell not? We already got this far.”

***

Tristan

Tristan watched as Ivan walked into his office. “Aaliyah Labus…I can’t pronounce the damn surname.” Ivan said with an exasperated sigh as he stopped in front of the desk. “She is South African, studied here for four years at the University of Pittsburgh after doing a half year at the University of Cape Town. She came to do an interview at Break Free Cosmetics, but according to the woman in charge, Ms. Johns, she wasn’t hired because she’s overqualified.”

“Give me that.” Ivan handed Tristan the tablet. Perusing through the document, he saw she was more than qualified, but she needed entry level experience, no matter what she had achieved at university. Her Extra Academic Activity caught his eye; she didn’t do as well with it as she had with her business major, but it was clear, based on her community service, that it was where her passion was. “Is she currently employed?”

“If the artist of
The Marked One
is going to have an entire exhibition based on her, from what I heard from Kyle at BoxHeart Expressions gallery, then I suppose she does have some temporary employment with M. Spencer.” Tristan looked through what Ivan had come up with. “Oh, and based on the footage visible of Break Free Cosmetics, I think that they are going against the Gerardo policy.”

“Explain,” Tristan said, looking at Ivan, who smoothed a hand over his charcoal hair.

“She has not been the first woman to leave their office upset. They have been looking for a front desk receptionist for more than two months now, and every second woman to leave their office was highly upset. The guard at the main reception desk says many have cried by the time they gave back their passes.” Ivan’s face was filled with concern.

“What was that woman at Break Free’s name again? I want to see her.” Ivan’s lips curled evilly at the sides as he held out his hand to take back the tablet. He tapped away and Tristan saw only one thing happening. “I take it you are informing her of a meeting with me.”

Ivan smiled even more brilliantly. “Ms. Johns will be here in ten minutes. You have a conference call with Vancouver in a half hour. I’ll send her in when she arrives.” Ivan walked out of the office, and like clockwork, ten minutes later, an average woman with a tiny frame walked in like she owned the place.

She walked right up to Tristan’s desk. “Good day, Mr. Gerardo, very pleased to meet you.” She extended her hand to him, not even hiding the fact that she was checking him out. For someone who had a full day’s work behind her back, the woman looked as if she had just arrived, as her makeup was in pristine condition—clearly a touch-up.

He rose from behind his desk and took her hand. “Very nice to meet you. Please take a seat.” Once she was seated, he kept standing, “What is the company’s motto, Ms. Johns?”

The woman gulped like a fish.

“Ms. Johns, my father was a shoe polisher. As low as low could get in making it in the business world. Now, nearly thirty years later, he has an empire, but what makes Gerardo different is what makes us better than the rest.” Ms. Johns looked ill at ease. “Why have you turned away so many women who were more than fit to do a simple receptionist job? More importantly, what is going on with your staff? Every single woman that works for you looks like you. And just because it is a cosmetics company, it doesn’t mean we just require women, as your job listing states. The cosmetics company was built on the principle of supporting users of all gender identifications.”

One corner of her lip drew up in a disgusted manner and it was clear she still approached things with an outdated mindset.

“Now while I’m not here to judge anyone, why does it seem like you aren’t following proper interview procedures? For example, the woman you interviewed today.”

“They were all overqualified. And the girl with the m…the girl from today was top of her class in marketing, and she—”

“We all need to start somewhere and I understand that everyone can’t get a chance, but half of your staff is carried by the other half who can actually do their jobs.”

The woman was pale as he turned and looked out of the window with the city at his feet.

“Not to mention the few hundred dollars you scrape off the top every month from their commissions, so you can get even more than the hefty bonus you already receive.” When he turned to face her, Ms. Johns looked like she was about to pass out. He walked to his desk, pressed the intercom button, and when Ivan responded, he said, “Would you please ready Ms. Johns retrenchment package and get HR to replace her?”

“On my way,” Ivan said, sounding as if he wasn’t even attempting to hide his merriment. It was sometimes worrying how much Ivan enjoyed revenge.

Ms. Johns looked at Tristan. “How did you know about…”

“I would’ve missed it and given you a warning for improper conduct of procedures, but while I waited for you to come up to my office, I checked your numbers. I won’t ruin your name completely by giving you over to the authorities for theft, but I’ll make sure you never work with a company that makes more than one million a year.”

The woman clearly wanted to protest, but Ivan was walking into the office like he’d won a first prize at the fair. “I have everything ready. HR is seeking a replacement as we speak, and I even got a free doughnut from Lizzy when she brought the papers.” Ivan stuck the doughnut into his mouth and handed the papers to Ms. Johns. She seemed incapable of much as Ivan took a bite of his treat and looked at her. “Oh, your pass needs to be handed in before you leave the building.”

Ms. Johns gained back her speech. “You can’t do this. This isn’t—”

“Listen, lady, you could be going to jail, so take your shit and go before I start showing Mr. Gerardo which of your employees are not suitable to work here.”