The Executive & The Artist (H.S)

IV

BEA huffed as her uncle walked through the door, a smile on his face and red in his cheeks as he hugged her mum tightly. She hadn't agreed to the activities he had in mind today- she hated art. She hated the paintings mummy had in the kitchen, she hated the princess sketches in her room, she hated the sculpture outside their front door, she hated, hated, hated.

Uncle Harry said, "Bea, darling, aren't you going to give me a hug?" So she stood and crossed her arms over her small chest. "No. I want to give you a hug but I'm mad at you." Harry let a bark of laughter escape his lips as he approached the stubborn five year old, Gemma sending a scolding look at her daughter behind his back.

"Why are you mad at me, babe?" Bea just crinkled up her nose and glared at him as he kissed her temple and smiled at her. He was very handsome, and Bea fancied him up until last year, when she figured out that it was gross to fancy your uncle. She said "you're making me do art," and Harry picked her up, balancing her on his hip. Bea's face was soon attacked in kisses until she let giggles slip past her pink pout, squirming in his arms. He whispered in her ears "I promise you don't have to do much, just do what you want. She won't make you do anything you don't want to." Bea put her palms on his cheeks and tried to warm them. They were cold to the touch. "Who is teaching me?" The little girl's voice was high-pitched and innocent.

The image of Natalie popped into Harry's mind, making his heart race in excitement. She didn't seem too extremely angry yesterday morning, when he'd barged into her flat, offering a (perfectly practical) business pitch. So how could she get angry at an adorable, pouty five year old?

"My friend." "Who's your friend?" "Natalie." "Is Natalie your girlfriend?" "No." "Do you want her to be your girlfriend?" "No." "Can I stay home today?" "Gemma, where's the car seat?"

...

The studio was falling apart.

Harry found a flyer online, advertising art classes for children, taught by the one and only Natalie Beck. The class itself was only twenty pounds but the gain Harry would get from it was worth much more.

And her studio was falling apart.

Bea pouted and tugged on her uncle's hand as they walked through the rusty front doors. The place smelled like paint and other children, two things she hated, hated, hated. Kids ran around aimlessly; jumping up and down, running in circles, playing with dolls that don't do anything but take up space. Bea saw no gain in any of those activities. She saw gain in sitting at home, watching Blue Peter, with a chocolate bar in hand and princess pillow behind her neck.

But there she was, walking the halls with her uncle that obviously fancied the teacher, thinking about how many cartoons she was missing by going to the class.

Endings, endings, endings.

Work, work, work.

Cartoons, cartoons, cartoons.

"Bea, babe, go introduce yourself." Harry's voice was calming, as it always was with his niece, as he nudged her towards the teacher whose back was to them. Bea whimpered a bit and clutched Harry's leg. "Please? For me?" He pleaded, brushing his fingers through her hair. The five year old shook her head and felt small tears prick her eyes. She hated, hated, hated crying and paint and other kids and she hated, hated, hated. She said, "I wanna go home." "I promise you'll love it." "I promise I won't." "Please just try it?" "Please just take me home?"

The sigh of exasperation coming from Harry was the first sign that Bea was winning, whisking the tears away and causing a smirk to form. "Alright, fine. We'll go home." The little girl smiled and grabbed Harry's hand to kiss it, giggling as he interwound their fingers.

They were almost to the door- so close that Bea could taste the freedom on the tip of her tongue- when a voice was heard over the racket. "Harry?"

And her studio was falling apart but Harry really liked how her voice bounced off it's walls and landed on his ears so softly, so he didn't really mind.

"No!" Bea protested, stomping her feet and pointing to the door. "No, no, no! We were so close, Uncle Harry, you can't turn back now. Let's go. Now. Let's go," she began to tug him towards the exit, but he planted his feet and refused to budge. "Natalie," he breathed, and Bea almost gagged. The girl he fancied stepped closer and put her arms across her chest pretzel-style. "If you're here to try and sell me out again, it's not working," she told him.

She was pretty, Bea noticed. Her dark hair was wound into a braid that fell down the nape of her neck, the tip of it disappearing into the collar of her jumper. Blue eyes were alight with a mix of surprise and anger; a mixture Bea wanted to see more often. The girl was extremely pretty.

Not as pretty as herself, of course. But still pretty.

"No, of course not. My niece just wanted to come to-" Bea interrupted with a "no, he's a liar. I didn't want to come. I actually want to leave." Pretty Natalie laughed and bent down to shake the girl's hand. "My name's Miss Nat, and I'm sorry to hear that you don't want to be here. Before you go though, I was wondering if you would want to play with the invisible markers?" Bea's ears perked up. "Invisible markers? What- what is those?" Harry said, "are, darling. What are those." Bea said, "I really don't care."

And usually Harry would scold her, but Natali- sorry, Nat- didn't seem to mind the girl's attitude, so he kept his mouth shut.

Following the pair towards the back of the falling-apart-studio, Harry crinkled his nose towards the clutter. There were children everywhere- painting, sculpting, running around aimlessly. Water stains covered the ceiling, and paint stains were all over the walls. Splashes of colour surrounded the space- handprints, names, cute messages of 'H+P' or 'I love mum'- present everywhere.

And it was falling apart, but the walls made Nat's voice sound pretty when it said his name so he doesn't mind it.

A little boy raced by and almost knocked Harry off of his feet, and as he turned to yell at the child, a hand was felt on his shoulder.

"Look at that," was what she said, and Harry's eyes travelled to see Bea squealing with excitement as she flashed a special torch over her paper, making the writing she had produced with the invisible markers show. He smiled. "Miracle worker. I swear, that girl is the hardest person to please. Good work." Nat nodded her head, accepting the compliment, before saying, "I'm glad that you brought her by, but I'm not going to merge with your company."

Harry didn't let his gaze wander from his happy five year old as he answered, "I know."

But he didn't know. The gears in his brain were already working, shoving clutter aside in his mind to make room for the plan that was forming. "Dinner, then? Do you want to go to dinner?" "I already took enough money from you." "Who said I would pay?"

Nat looked up to him and grinned. "Bastard." Harry shrugged. "Never claimed to be otherwise." "If I go to dinner with you, you have to agree to not talk about work."

Endings, endings, endings.

Work, work, work.

Nat, Nat, Nat.

"Um, okay." And that didn't sound assuring enough so Nat made him say "okay, okay, okay, okay" over and over again until it had stopped sounding like a word and Harry was about to cry.