Chapter 15 Damon – Modern art
There’s no art To find the mind’s construction in the face
Macbeth, William Shakespeare
As scheduled, I headed to Cordelia’s after work for a few drinks.
The weather was beautiful, so we sat outside and enjoyed what was left of the sun.
The beers were going down easily, I was in the company of a beautiful woman, and the asshole who lived in this house was becoming more flustered every day. Life was indeed good.
“Cordelia, what the fuck is that on my wall?” The asshole had obviously arrived home. I know the core aim of this plot was to drive him away with my constant presence, but I often wished he would just fuck off for the night with Lolita and leave us alone.
“By this, I assume you mean Miranda’s latest work?
She told you she was going to paint it. Show some respect, Harrison.
She included you in it, which was very considerate of her.
As the homeowner, you should be proud to feature in our mural.
She even named it after you: The Erotic Dreams of Sir Mini Mitts . Read the plaque.”
I laughed into my beer. Miranda was certainly an artist. Her hallway mural was amazing, but she insisted that it was a “rough job” due to the urgency of the work.
She’d delivered on her promise of zombie homoeroticism.
There were six male zombies in total. Two were performing an awkward 69 in front of the others, who stood watching lustily with their cocks in their hands.
Harrison wasn’t the star. He was one of the voyeurs and Miranda had given him a tiny, skinny penis, and miniature hands, which stood in stark contrast to the huge members and large hands of the other horny zombies.
It wasn’t an exact likeness, but it was definitely identifiable as Harrison.
“Get that shit off my wall Cordelia!” Harrison ordered.
“Nah,” she said, swishing her hand in the air. “My house, my choice. Remember, you’ve always said you didn’t want to mess with my vision for the house. This is my vision, so fuck off or get on board.”
He stomped inside like an angry toddler. “What if he paints over it?” I questioned.
“He’s too lazy. Besides, we’ve made our point. Miranda said it was worth it to see the look on his face.”
“So, what’s our next move?” I asked. Cordelia smiled and made a “cheers” move with her glass. “We keep on keeping on, dear boyfriend. I’ve got stuff for chicken risotto if you fancy staying for dinner.”
“I’m in.” I hadn’t eaten this well in a long time.
I’d have to start buying groceries at this rate.
I couldn’t let Cordelia keep feeding me, even if she insisted it was “part of my payment.” I loved the words “part of” because they implied there would be more than just meals.
I definitely wouldn’t say no to anything from Cordelia.
She seemed stronger lately, but I always watched her for signs of sadness or love when the asshole was around.
Miranda’s ploys always boosted her spirits and made her smile, but I needed to be sure those smiles were a genuine sign of moving on rather than just joy at seeing karma delivered so swiftly and delightfully.
We were enjoying our dinner when Harrison and Emma edged their way into the dining room. “We’re eating her tonight. You can eat somewhere else,” Cordelia stated flatly, not even lifting her eyes.
“This is my dining room too. If I want to eat here—”
I looked up at the stupid fucker holding takeaway bags.
“I believe you were told to fuck off,” I said calmly.
I met his eye and refused to look away. I could see the conflicting urges written on his face.
He couldn’t show submission to me in front of his little girlfriend, but he also didn’t have the courage to stand toe-to-toe with me.
I lifted my eyebrow, awaiting his response.
“As if we’d want to sit with you anyway,” he declared, making a great show of ushering Emma out the door.
“That asshole is going to die of scurvy soon if he doesn’t start eating real food,” Cordelia observed.
“And it’d be well deserved. A dose of rickets wouldn’t hurt either.
He doesn’t get much sun,” I replied. This revenge journey was like a pleasure cruise.
Cordelia was my gorgeous cruise partner, Miranda was cruise director, and Harrison provided unparalleled entertainment.
It’s just a pity there was no kids club we could enroll Emma in to keep her out of our hair.
Kids that young really needed proper adult supervision.