Zeke looked at the Jean-Baptiste Greuze, French drawing. In some ways he could relate to ‘The Ungrateful Son’ in the picture. Misunderstood and not respected for who he was. There was a slight difference between him and the boy, though. In the picture the father was the one fighting with the son to stay home and not join the army.

If it just was his father giving him a hard time... but no, he just up and left them. Now, he had to help look after his eight-year-old sister, instead of going out with his friends. He left Cyndel at home because he couldn’t handle her whining anymore.

Zeke wished they had never moved to Vienna, Austria. He hated his father for this. He had had to leave all his friends behind. And for what? Nothing! His father left a year after they moved there, in any case.

Infuriated he focused his attention on the drawing again. The mother in the drawing tried to keep her son from leaving. Why hadn’t his mother tried to keep his father from leaving? He had to express his anger before he exploded. Everytime he looked at the mother in the picture he got angrier.

All the rage that had build up inside of him, wanted out. He wanted to feel vengeful and mean. He wanted to do something bad. His fingers curled tightly around his entry ticket, crumpled into his fist. He could feel his fist smashing the drawing to smithereens.

But maybe he could do something totally worse. He pulled at the minty gum in his mouth with his fingers. He stretched it as far as possible, released it and sucked it back. He did it again, but instead of sucking it back into his mouth, he took the piece of elongated gum out.

The father in the drawing needed a moustache. He scanned his immediate vicinity. Nobody. He slowly stuck out his hand and carefully edged the gum closer to the drawing. He stepped closer. Checking again, making sure there were no unwanted spectators. Yes, no-one!

Carefully he squished the ‘moustache’ in place. As nonchalant as only Zeke could be, he turned around and started to walk away.

“Oh, shoot!”

There, in front of him, with folded arms, stood one of the museum’s security officers. The thought of dashing out of the museum crossed his mind. The officer recognised the flight in his eyes and jumped forward before Zeke could react. Within seconds he was knocked to the ground and pinned down. The officer sat on his back holding his hands behind him, and then the icy cuffs clasped tightly onto his wrists.

***

Kace inspected the handcuffed boy in front of him from his peripheral vision. The boy looked very mature, still young, but he had lost the traces of boyhood. Evidently nervous about his situation he was fidgeting and moving around in his seat all the time. He pushed the handcuffs up and down causing the chain to clang against the cuffs.

His sandy hair dangled over his honey brown eyes. Quite a handsome chap. He was tall for his age and rather muscular. He reminded himself that inside that body was just a boy. He would never know what happened to the kid to react the way he did. Adolescence maybe.

Kace smiled inwardly, knowing that he would let the kid off with just a warning as soon as his mother came. He took joy in leaving him in handcuffs with a threat of imprisonment if they couldn’t come up with the money for the fine for his act of vandalism. That should teach him a lesson. Lucky for all of them the gum didn’t cause any damage to the painting. But he didn’t have to know that.

His office was very quiet, the ticking clock echoed through the stillness of the air. The creaking chair was the only other sound, each time Kace moved, the boy acted like a trapped animal.

His mother was finally called after a prolonged feud to get her contact details from him. It was clear that he harboured some sort of fear of her. The boy visibly stiffened when he heard heels clicking on the tiled floor outside of the office.

When the redhead entered his office in her exquisitely fitting black dress, her beautiful but sad emerald eyes grabbed his attention. Recognition reflected simultaneously through both of them. He cursed inward and started to stand.

Kace extended his hand and invited her to sit, “Good day, Mrs Kyle, please have a seat.”

She hesitated and ignored his invite. Her eyes flashed to her son, “Are the cuffs really necessary? He is not a criminal you know!”

“But, Mrs Kyle, intentional damage of an artwork is a felony offence and would warrant cuffs. A hefty fine or even imprisonment is punishment for this act. Are you condoning your son’s behaviour?”

“I am not condoning his behaviour. I am merely pointing out that he is not a criminal, Mr Laurent.”

Zeke was confused. Why was his mother attacking the curator instead of him? His head whipped to and fro by their bickering.

“Restorations are very costly and time-consuming. Do you know that we have to pull this drawing from the Poussin to David, exhibition? These French Drawings are a great asset to the Albertina Museum here in Vienna. Do you have any idea how much that is going to cost this museum? If you can’t keep your child under control, ma’am, I have some bad news for you. Either you pay the fine and leave or I will make sure your child ends up in juvenile school!”

“Don’t you dare threaten me, Mr Laurent…”

“This is not an idle threat, Mrs Kyle. Did you know that vandals in the past were diagnosed with personality disorders, like Hans-Joachim Bohlmann. Maybe you should have your son checked out.”

“Personality disorder? I think you’re the crazy one here, Mr Laurent!”

“Mom… mom…!” Both the adults in the room acting like children whipped their heads in the direction of the boy.

“Mom, what are you doing? Are you trying to make things worse for me?”

Running her hand over her hair and pressing her lips together, she took the seat that Kace offered to her in the first place, “I’m sorry. I apologize Mr Laurent.”

She looked over at Zeke and touched his cheek, “Are you okay, son?”

“I’m sorry mom. I don’t know what came over me.” He lowered his eyes to his cuffed hands and let out a sob.

By now she had composed herself and looked over at Mr Laurent, “I beg of you to please take off the cuffs… Please.” She followed him with pleading eyes as he took his seat behind the desk.

He would have taken the cuffs off, but he felt obliged to let them sweat a little longer. What gave her the right to storm into his office and treat him like a criminal? He composed his usual poker face, “There is the issue of compensation, Mrs Kyle.”

“How much?”

“Ten Thousand Euro.” He knew it was a ridiculous amount, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Oh, my goodness! What have you done to this painting?” Her attention riveted on the shocked face of her son.

“Drawing.”

“What?”

“It’s a drawing, not a painting. It’s a collection of poetic love stories, mythological epics, atmospheric portrait studies or picturesque ruins. These are all masterpieces of French Baroque art.

“The collection consists of 70 major works selected from Albertina’s rich holdings of drawings. It sweep visitors into the dreamy and multi-layered cosmos of French art from the Baroque and Rococo periods. The works on display include Nicolas Poussin’s breath-taking free landscape studies as well as Claude Lorrain’s light-drenched depictions of nature, and playful masterpieces by François Boucher and Jean-Honoré Fragonard. And of course... scenes of Jean-Baptiste Greuze, which is now in question.”

“Are you mad? I didn’t come here for an art class!”

“Mom, please!”

“I… I’m sorry… I… I don’t have that kind of money. I am a single parent and don’t earn that much.” Aviana blurted out.

“So, what do you suggest we do, Mrs Kyle? I can’t just let this go. You do understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I understand. I… I have no idea where I’m going to get that kind of money.”

Zeke was sobbing uncontrollably by now. Aviana was holding his cuffed hands in hers and trying to console him. Kace got up from his chair and took the keys out of his top drawer. He slowly made his way over to Zeke and uncuffed him. He vigorously rubbed his wrists and wiped the tears from his face.

Kace sat back on his desk in front of Zeke, “You do know what you did was wrong? And something like this, unfortunately, can’t go unpunished.”

“Yes.” He whimpered.

He got up from the desk and walked over to his leather high-back chair. He swiveled it round and sat down.

“There might be a way you could pay the fine.”

“I’m willing to do anything, Mr Laurent.”

“My personal assistant is on maternity leave. I need someone to bring the paperwork up to date and keep it up to date until she’s back. I understand that you are working during the day and are unable to do it then, but… you could work three to four hours every night.”

“I could. But I have a few problems with that.”

“What is that?”

“I have another child. Cyndel, she’s only eight years old.”

“I’ll look after her, mom. I promise.” Zeke interrupted.

“Like you promised to look after her today? If you had just done what you had to do, none of this would have happened.”

Zeke lowered his eyes and rubbed at his wrists, unable to keep eye contact with his mother.

“Are you going to press charges?” She turned back to Kace.

“Not if you agree to the ‘community service’.” He gestured with air-quotes.

“I don’t have my own transport, and I don’t think public transport is available after eight o’clock.”

“I’ll drive you. Any other problems?”

“No… no, I think that’s it.”

“Well then. I’ll give you this weekend to arrange everything, and then you can start Monday at six o’clock. Does that give you sufficient time to make dinner for your children and get here in time?” With an impassive expression he got up from his chair and opened the door to his office, a sign that the meeting was over.

“Yes, that would be sufficient.”

And there you have the first chapter of 'Sweet Lips'. What do you think? Please leave a comment on your thoughts❣

The picture up top is of Zeke as I imagined him when writing this story❣

Also, the French Baroque art collection really does exist. I did some research to add it to my story. This collection was on view during February 2017 at the Albertina Museum when I wrote the first part of my story❣