Chapter 6: Mask off

Instead of going for therapy an artist expressed themselves and got paid for it instead. Artists were paid for feeling and expressing those feelings on a canvas. 

Maybe my art lacked the amount of emotion to get it to where it needed to be. I did not lust, there was no forbidden love, and I had not reached that level of self-loathing that was great enough to paint the masterpiece that lay within my hands.

"I'm a collector of beautiful things," Constantine walked over to me. 

"To each their own," I turned away from the black and white painting.  

I didn't like this piece. I remember the first time I saw it when I was flipping through a copy of Tragic Masterpieces, the painting stirred something within me. It made me feel uneasy. A dark hand reaching out on a white canvas to touch a man's shadow. 

I unfortunately had to research it for my paper. 

Then I learned it was renowned mostly for the tragedy behind it. 

So I couldn't understand why anyone would keep this in a living room and stare at it every day. 

"It was said Grallie killed himself after painting it," I mentioned in a so by the way take it off the wall voice.   

"I know," Constantine dismissed offering me a bottle of water. "I'd offer you something stronger, but I don't think you'd be able to handle it, considering how you behave sober." 

"Haha, I get it I bumped into your car while sober." 

"That is true and the fact that you have anger issues." 

I did not have anger issues... I did but hearing it from a strange man worked on me.

"Let me give you a tour. You might as well familiarise yourself with this place since you'll be spending most of your time here."

"By what labour law policy?" I questioned. Ballsy for me to mention the law given my predicament.

"Labour law," he laughed under his breath and began walking further into his open-plan lounge. 

Constantine's house was perfect from the straight rug and portraits that hung on the walls. It was a far cry from a house given it didn't feel like anyone lived here. 

But it still made my apartment feel like a thrift shop junkies abode with my mahogany coffee table, brown lazy boy, tiel love seat, mismatched bargained furniture— which was my treasure chest that doubled as a reading nook and storage for paint brushes and art supplies.

"Second thoughts about the job?"  Constantine eyed me warily as my eyes skimmed the perfect paint on the wall that didn't have lumps, bumps and cracks like my apartment walls. 

"I've passed the second thought I'm on the 11th thought now." 

"When did you reach the 10th thought?" He questioned, watching me from the couch.  

"This morning..." I took a sip of my water.

"So," he sat down on the couch and gestured for me to take a seat on the two-seater across the glass coffee table. He pulled out a briefcase from under the table and popped it open smoothly.

"Sign this, and we're good to go." He slid a thick stack of papers across the table with a pen.

I sat down in front of him and picked up the papers.

There were a lot of pages. "How many pages is this?" 

"Four hundred and two." 

"I can't sign this..." I said, and he leaned forward, and an annoyed look formed on his face, "I mean, I have to get a lawyer..." 

"Yeah get the law involved, Tiger. It's not like I'm doing you a favour here." 

"Fine can I just have time to read this before I sign it?" 

He shurgged, "tick toc." He leaned back in his seat. 

"You want me to read it right now?..." He couldn't be serious.

"When would you like to read it?" He questioned, impatiently.

"When I'm more comfortable..." 

 "Should I set the mood then," he interrupted "pop open a bottle of champagne and give your feet a massage?" He sounded annoyed. "Fire up the jacuzzi?"

I cringed. "I hate feet." 

"April..." 

The sound of the doors bouncing off the perfect plastered brick tore us away from our pending argument. Two behemoths came barreling in holding either arm of a tiny man.

"We found him," Thing one said and threw the scrawny man into the room. 

Constantine stood. A victorious smile on his face.

"Constantine," the thin man smiled up despite his eyes being filled with panic and his clothes stained with blood and dirt. He scrambled to his feet, straightening out his clothes. "I can explain..." 

Constantine smiled and took a step closer to the man. He pulled out a silver thing from his pocket and pushed it up his knuckles. "I've been waiting for too long,'' he said.

The man held his arms up covering his scarred face. "I'm begging. You have it all wrong. It wasn't me, I swear." The man stumbled back into one of the behemoths only to be pushed front again. 

"You want to tell me why the chief of police is opening up Maguire's case again?" Constantine's voice was calm despite the vein bulging on his neck. 

My heart was racing... I stood dumbfounded unable to react. I wanted to do something, I wanted to act, but my body was suddenly overcome with fear to the point I was paralyzed. 

"Constantine I swear..."  The man was crying. 

Constantine grabbed him by the collar causing me to flinch. "No, I swear. If it wasn't for your mother they'd be fishing your corpse out the lake by now."

"You wouldn't kill me in front of a woman, would you?" The man cowered. 

As if Constantine forgot I was in the room, he turned around briefly, acknowledging my presence. 

He turned to face the man again. "Kill him,"  he gestured for the men to take him away.  

"Constantine please!" the man cried as the men dragged him out, "it wasn't me!"

A moment of silence passed between us as I heard a car engine starting up.

"So about those roles and responsibilities..." 

"What the actual fuck," I shrieked, "did you just order those men to kill that man!" 

"No need to get a medical done then. Seems your ears are sharp." He moved over to the table and reached for the brown liquid in a clear bottle. "Want one?"

I remembered Rain's words and how panicked she was that I was going to be working for Constantine. 

"Fuck this. I don't want any part of this..I'm done," I said as I rushed for the door.

Constantine grabbed my arm as I moved past him. "Now take a minute to breathe," he grinned." He took a step closer to me his large muscular form towering over me. He gripped my face forcing me to look at him. 

His thumb and forefinger were harsh against my cheek as he glared into my eyes."You can't be done we haven't even started yet." I could almost taste the liquor with how strong his breath was.

I spat in his face. "You're fucking psycho!" 

He laughed again, wiping his face with a handkerchief and thus wiping off the mask of the charming, charismatic businessman he portrayed all week, goading me into the perfect job. 

He grabbed my arm and began pulling me towards the stairs. "Let go of me! HELP!" I yelled, fighting against him. "Let me go you fucking prick." 

"April if you cuss at me one more time..." His voice held the promise of consequence.

I remembered the pepper spray Rain put in my bag. 

I stuck my whole arm in my bag desperately. My fingertips brushed the familiar feeling of the bottle and I pulled it out. "Fuck you!" I said placing my finger on the top of the bottle and pushing down hard. 

"April don't-" 

 Suddenly my eyes were burning. "Mother fucker!!!!!" I screamed realising the nozzle was pointed at me instead of him. 

In a panic, I tried to turn the bottle around, and I felt him knock it out of my hand. "Just stop." He warned, and I felt his hand go to the back of my head, raising my head. 

I heard him sigh heavily and his hand grazed the side of my cheek lightly.  " I'm not going to hurt you." 

"Don't touch me," I cried out and pushed him off me. I began walking backwards. "I don't need your help I just need to get away from you!"

I felt a piece of glass press into my side and then heard something shatter.  "April!"  

"If you touch me!" I yelled, "I'll fucking kill you!" 

"April, you need to calm down." 

I started hyperventilating. I couldn't see and I was alone with him. I was terrified. "Are you going to kill me because I know you killed that man?"  My chest felt tight and the burning sensation in my eyes was overwhelming.

"How could I have killed him when I was with you today?" He questioned and it almost sounded like I was an accomplice to murder that was enough to have my legs go limp and head feel too heavy for my neck.

"April..." Constantine's voice seemed softer and more distant. 

I felt arms go around me. "Apr-" 

I was about to tell him to get his hands off me, but then Grallie's painting flooded my mind— just that I was the man, and it was Constantine's dark hand reaching out to my shadow.