Cliché (Andy Biersack)

Takes One to Know One

"Here's where all the magic happens," I said when I turned on the light in my little atelier.

"Ah, yes, the children's artwork. I've been wanting to see more of that." He rolled his eyes at the end of the sentence. And there it was: his horrible attitude and the reason I started hating him in the first place.

"Follow me," I said and lead the way to an old closet that I used for storage. All his portraits have been safely locked in there. I couldn't stand looking at them anymore. I unlocked the door and started taking the paintings out, one by one.

"You definitely have a problem, Williams."

"Yeah, I know, and you're it."

"Oh, shut up. Is this all of them?" He asked, crouching down on the ground and looking at all the canvases with his face on them.

"Yup."

"What were you planning on doing with them?" He asked.

"I want to burn them."

"You can't be serious?" He asked, apparently shocked.

"I have no use for them. I hate seeing them. I want to get rid of them."

"Let me buy them off you, then," he said, taking out his cheque book.

"I don't want your money. Keep them. Though, I have no idea what you need so many of them for. It all seems very self-centred." I shrugged and stacked all the paintings up.

"Nonsense. You can't give these away for free. How much do you want for them? There's 15 of them, I'm guessing each is worth around a hundred... Will 2,000 be enough?" He asked, without really expecting an answer, seeing as he already wrote the sum down. He handed me the cheque and refused to hear my objections.

"2,000 isn't really that much, for so many paintings. You should know that."

"It's still a lot of money for crap."

"Are you calling my face crap?"

I just shrugged in response.

"How very rude of you. Anyway, I promised you something, didn't I?" He showed me that he had deleted my voicemail and I thanked him.

"Now, for my grand scheme: I want you to paint each band member of Black Veil Brides. We'll use it for promotion of the upcoming tour. And we'll have our fans enter a drawing competition. The winner will win free concert tickets and a VIP pass. How does that sound?" He asked.

"That's actually a good idea. The latter, I mean. I'll have to think about your proposal."

"What's there to think about? Not only does it give you a chance to show off your skills, but in case you've forgotten, I booked you for a project. This is it. You can't say no."

"But I don't want to paint you anymore. I can't. I'm all painted out," I whined.

"You'll do me last, okay? I just really think it would look great. No, I know it would. Look at these! You're really talented. They're all so realistically done. And you did these from memory alone. Imagine what you could do if you had a model."

"Fine. I'll do it. You win."

He smirked and grabbed the paintings. "Come on. Now we're going to my place."

"But why? What else could you possibly have to tell me?" I asked and followed him. I locked the door and started walking toward my car. He grabbed my arm halfway there and dragged me toward his own. The place where he held my arm felt hot for a while after he let me go.

"Where do you live?" I asked him, trying to distract myself from the tingling sensation that lingered from his touch.

"Not far from here. You and I are almost neighbours, Williams. Isn't that a wonderful coincidence?"