Reap The Whirlwind
Book 2 of the Killian Kendall Mysteries
By Josh Aterovis
Copyright 2026
Chapter 5
The Plaza, as it's commonly known, is a brick courtyard created by closing off a section of Main Street running through the old shopping district in the heart of the city. Tall Victorian-era brick buildings lining the pedestrian-friendly corridor, with fountains, sculptures, and flowerbeds scattered along the way. The old store-fronts mostly housed restaurants, upscale boutiques, lawyers' offices, and antique stores. The idea was a well-intentioned attempt to revitalize the downtown area, but the reality was a little on the shabby side.
It didn't take long to find Avant Garde once we were there. It stood out since it was the only place on the Plaza with a life-sized sculpture in the window of two demons caught in the act of making love. At least, I assumed they were demons. They looked like regular people aside from the fact that they had wings and something resembling horns coming out of their heads. The statue looked like it was made of bronze, and it must have weighed a ton.
We all stood in silent awe for several minutes before anyone spoke.
"Well...isn't that...anatomically correct?" Aidan said.
"I wouldn't know. I'm still a virgin," Asher said with a giggle.
"You two might have to wait outside," I said, only half joking.
"Why?" Killian asked.
"It might be over twenty-one-plus only!"
"That eliminates you guys, too," Killian pointed out reasonably.
We finally managed to tear ourselves away from the amorous couple and entered the gallery, which was indeed open.
There were no other pornographic statues in view, but everything I did see looked terribly expensive and elegant. I felt out of place in my jeans and t-shirt. To be fair, I was also having trouble picturing Nikki in there.
I was just about to suggest we leave when a tall, thin, dark-haired man in a tailored designer suit seemingly appeared out of thin air. "Hello, this is Avant Garde. Can I help you with something?" His tone clearly suggested that he seriously doubted that would be the case.
Before I could muster up a response, Aidan stepped forward and offered his hand. Mr. Armani looked at it disdainfully for a moment before reluctantly shaking it, then casually wiped his hand on his pant leg as if it had possibly become contaminated by Aidan's touch.
"I'm Aidan Scott," Aidan said in a cool, cultured voice that was so unlike his usual voice that I almost did a double take. "This is my client, Will Keegan. Perhaps you've heard of him." He managed to make it sound like he was a fool if he hadn't.
Sir Stuffy Suit began to look a bit flustered. Meanwhile, I'm sure I was turning a lovely shade of crimson judging by the burning in my cheeks.
"He's being called the next big thing. We met earlier today with Ms. Avanti," Aidan swept on. "She expressed an interest in perhaps representing Mr. Keegan in this area. We thought we'd stop by unannounced and have a look around. We can't be represented by just anyone."
"Of course," Mr. Armani gushed. "I think you'll be pleased with Avant Garde. We may be a small gallery, but we've had some wonderful success on the international market. As you can see, we cater to a very specific clientele."
"Yes, so I see," Aidan said, allowing just a hint of disapproval to enter his voice. "I just hope the scope isn't too narrow."
"I'm afraid I don't understand."
"I'm afraid you don't," Aidan agreed. "We'll look around now. Thank you." It was clearly a dismissal but the man seemed hesitant to leave us alone in the gallery.
"Please let me know if I can help you with anything—" he tried.
"I doubt that very seriously, but thank you ever so much once again."
The man looked completely unnerved by that point. He began to back away with a slight bow that would have been laughable if I wasn't so nervous that we'd be discovered as total frauds at any moment.
"That was freaking awesome!" Killian whispered as soon as the guy vanished through a curtain on the back wall.
"Shh!" I hissed, then reeled to face Aidan. "What was that?" I growled as quietly as possible while still letting him know exactly how I felt about his little performance.
"What was what?" he asked innocently.
"The next big thing? Nobody's calling me that!"
"I did, earlier today. Remember?"
"Your client?"
"Will, calm down. You're gonna pop a vein."
"What if Nikki finds out about this?"
"Relax. I know his type. He won't dare breathe a word of this to Nikki. He would never admit to anything that might make him look bad. He'll wait and see if we say anything, see what take we give her, then he'll try to spin it to make himself look better. Trust me. I'm telling you, I grew up in places like this."
I threw my hands up in defeat and started to look around. The work displayed was a diverse collection of modern, abstract, and traditional art, ranging from sculptures and paintings to mixed-media collages. They seemed to have something for everyone, although I couldn't help but wonder if the athletic couple in the window might not put off the more conservative folks. Or maybe that was the point.
We did find one more statue on a platform in the back of the gallery. Once again, it was life-sized and erotic, but this one was of two men. One was standing facing the viewer, and the other stood behind him with his arms around him in an intimate and touching embrace as he kissed his neck.
Once again, we were all struck silent at first. Asher was the first to break the mood. "My God, he's hung like a horse," he whispered loudly.
We all cracked up. I thought for sure Mr. Armani would come running, but we actually made it out of the gallery without running into His Stuffiness again.
"Well, what did you think?" Aidan asked as we walked back to the car.
"I think I wanna try that!" Asher said with a leer directed at Killian.
"Not about that, you perv." Aidan laughed. "About the gallery."
"I thought it was cool but kinda...prissy," Killian volunteered.
"I think that sums it up pretty well," I agreed. "Especially that stuffed suit."
"Stuffed Armani suit," Aidan corrected me. "And I agree, too."
We all turned to look at Asher.
"I'm horny!" he announced happily.
When we got back to the apartment, Asher and Killian came in long enough to grab their bags before they had to leave.
"So how are you doing? I've been thinking a lot about what we talked about last night," Aidan asked as soon as they were gone.
"You and me both," I said with a sigh. "I'm okay, I guess."
"Have you come to any conclusions?"
"No, and I don't think I will. Not right now, anyway. I'm just going to let it slide for the moment. There's no reason I have to make up my mind right this second."
"Ignoring it isn't going to make anything go away."
"Thank you, Doctor Scott."
"Hey, ultimately, it's your life, your decision, but it's not really the kind of thing you can just ignore indefinitely, for your own sake."
"Or what? I'll self-destruct?"
Aidan looked thoughtful. "Maybe. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened."
Before I could pursue that intriguing line of thought further, someone knocked on the door. I was closer so I answered it to find Joey looking slightly annoyed.
"Just the guy I was looking for," he said. "I haven't been able to get up with you all week. What's up?"
"I, uh...you know, um, busy...with moving and work and stuff..."
He stood there for a moment while I stared back, then he gave me a "what's up" look with his hands spread, palms up. "Uh, can I come in or are we just going to talk here in the doorway?"
"Oh, yeah, sure." I stepped back to allow him in, shutting the door behind him.
"Hey, Aidan!" he said as he strolled into the living room and dropped into the recliner, legs spread wide, hands on the armrests.
"Hiya, Joey." Aidan glanced back and forth between us, clearly uncertain of his welcome.
I desperately tried to communicate telepathically that I wanted him to stay in the room with us, but I guess my psychic skills were still lacking, because he started backing toward the hallway.
"Well, I have some school work I need to knock out before tomorrow, so I'll be in my room if anyone needs me," he said, and then he was gone, shutting his bedroom door behind him.
I turned back toward Joey, my stomach in knots.
"So..." I started lamely.
"I came by earlier, but no one answered the door," Joey said somewhat accusingly.
"Oh, yeah. We, um... We weren't here."
"Yeah, I figured that out on my own, thanks. Are you avoiding me?"
"Why would I be avoiding you?" I said evasively.
"You don't answer my calls or texts, I haven't heard from you all week and usually you can't go more than a few hours without at least sending a meme, and now you're acting like you can't wait to get rid of me."
"I told you, I've been busy."
"Too busy to call your best friend?"
"Yeah, well, my best friend was too busy to tell me about his new girlfriend, so isn't that a little like the pot calling the kettle black?"
"Are you still mad about that? I said I was sorry. Are you really mad that I didn't tell you or are you mad that I'm seeing someone?"
"What do you mean?"
"You act like a jealous girlfriend sometimes."
"I do not!"
"Yeah, you do. But I didn't come here to pick a fight."
"Why did you come?"
"Aren't you the one who said you missed me just last week? And then you ghosted. I just wanted to hang out with my best friend."
"Oh, so I still have that title?"
"Of course. Who else am I going to talk to about stuff?"
"What about Mackenzie?"
"We've been going out for three weeks. I've known you for eighteen years. Besides, you don't tell your girlfriend everything."
I sighed. "Fine. I missed you, too."
"I thought you were busy."
I shrugged, and he rolled his eyes.
"You really are so much like a girl," he grumbled.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked, my hackles rising.
"Chill, dude. I just mean you get so pissy about the smallest things then pout about it forever."
"I wasn't pouting!" He raised an eyebrow, and I gave in with a sigh. "Okay. Maybe I was pouting a little."
He laughed. "No kidding. Now come over here and sit your bitch ass down. I have to fill you in on my week, then I want to hear about how the move went. You know, if you weren't so busy being a big baby, I would have helped. But anyway, there's this girl in one of my classes. She's so hot—"
"Hold up. Aren't you dating Mackenzie?"
"It's only been three weeks! We're not married."
I shook my head as I took a seat on the couch. Classic Joey.
He ended up staying until almost midnight. After a while, Aidan came out and joined us to watch a movie. I went to bed that night thinking that maybe things didn't have to change so much after all.
Monday morning started off with a lecture from my father as soon as I arrived at the office. He was, predictably, very disappointed that I missed church on my first Sunday not living at home. I apologized multiple times, explaining that I just forgot to set my alarm and overslept after moving, but that was not an acceptable excuse for him. I was pretty sure there were laws about workplace harassment, but when your father is also your pastor who is also your boss, certain lines become blurred.
After work, I swung by my parents' house to pick up the rest of my paintings. Dad wasn't home, thankfully, so I only had to deal with Mom. She was fairly emotional and must have told me she missed me a half dozen times, but it could have been worse. At least she didn't lecture me.
The apartment was empty when I got home, but I did find a note slipped under our door. The handwriting was a barely legible scrawl that screamed serial killer, but I managed to decipher "Dinner at 6," so I assumed it was from Nikki.
I was watching TV, stretched on the couch when Aidan got home.
"Lucy, I'm home," he called as he burst through the door.
"Hey, Nikki said dinner is at six."
"Cool, then I have time for a shower."
He was back out shortly, freshly showered and wearing a tropical print shirt and khakis.
"That is one ugly shirt," I couldn't help but say.
Aidan grinned. "You're just jealous, cuz you don't have fresh fits like me. Is my client ready for his first business dinner?"
"As ready as I'll ever be."
"Good, let's go."
We walked across the hall and tapped on Nikki's door. She answered it almost immediately wearing a brightly colored sarong with a matching scarf wrapped around her head like a turban.
"Aidan, I love your shirt!" she said. "Come on in."
The first thing we saw as we stepped in was a life-sized statue of a mermaid and merman wrapped around each other with their heads thrown back in apparent ecstasy. It was sitting in the middle of what should have been the living room, but Nikki apparently used it as her studio. I guess we now knew who the sex-crazed sculptor was.
Nikki followed our gaze. "Like it? I just finished it last night. I haven't gotten it out of here yet. You'll have to excuse the mess."
"It's...lifelike," Aidan said carefully.
"I use live models for the initial sittings. I do a small clay model and some sketches that I then use to create the statues."
"Where do you find fresh mer-people this time of year?" Aidan asked.
Nikki laughed. "I have my sources. This piece is most likely already sold. I just have to get it to the gallery so they can see it."
"How do you get it out of here?" I asked.
"The elevator."
"Isn't it too heavy?"
"It's nowhere near as heavy as it looks. It's hollow for one thing. More importantly, though, it isn't actually bronze. It's recycled aluminum that I paint with a metallic paint and then age and oxidize it."
"Cool."
"While we're talking shop, are those your paintings?"
"Yeah." I held out the stack.
She took them and began to look through them carefully. She went through the stack of about fifteen paintings twice, then pulled out four, stood them on the couch, and stepped back. After a few more minutes of scrutinizing, she put one back in the pile and handed the rejected pieces back to me.
"These," she said. She had chosen three of my most unusual pieces, a study of a door on an abandoned house, a window of another abandoned house, and an architectural detail of an old country church.
"Are you sure?" I asked. I was somewhat dubious.
"Yes, I'm sure."
"We went to the gallery yesterday," I told her. "Are you sure these will...fit in?"
"Oh, God, you must have met Dante."
"Would that be the guy wearing an Armani suit with the stick up his butt?" Aidan asked.
"That would be him." Nikki sighed. "Dante is my brother and the other co-owner of Avant Garde. As you can probably imagine, we have somewhat differing ideas about how the place should be run. But to answer your question, Will, the whole reason I like these pieces is because they aren't like the other things we have. You don't want to blend in. You want to stand out."
Considering how I'd spent most of my life trying desperately to blend in and not stand out, I was still somewhat unconvinced. She must have been able to tell by my expression.
"Have you ever seen one of your paintings framed and matted?"
"No."
"Do you mind if I go ahead and frame these?"
"I guess not."
"Good, then come by the gallery...um...Saturday and see what you think then."
"Okay," I agreed.
"Dinner's ready," a voice called from the kitchen.
Aidan and I turned confused looks toward the strange voice just as a barefoot man appeared holding a steaming pan of something cheesy. The dish wasn't the only thing that was piping hot. The guy carrying it was stunningly beautiful, with long, curly chestnut-brown hair pulled back into a messy man bun, intense dark eyes, heavy stubble, and two silver hoop earrings in each ear. He wore loose-fitting, striped linen pants, an oversized button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, and a pair of hot pink oven mitts. He looked a lot younger than Nikki — not much older than Aidan and I, in fact — but after my miscalculation with Nikki's age, I was hesitant to make assumptions.
"Will, Aidan, this is my boyfriend, Sam. He cooks. I hope you like vegetarian lasagna."
"I guess we're about to find out," Aidan quipped.
The lasagna was delicious, and Sam was just as interesting as Nikki. I turned out to be right about his age, though. He was only two years older than Aidan, and a senior at Pemberton. He and Nikki met when he saw her flier advertising for a live model.
I couldn't help but wonder if he was the model who was "hung like a horse," as Asher had so eloquently put it. I kept taking what I hoped were surreptitious glances at his crotch whenever he stood up, but it was impossible to tell since the hem of his shirt kept blocking my view.
"So are all your sculptures so...spicy?" Aidan asked during a lull in the conversation.
"You mean filthy?" Nikki replied, then laughed. "I guess you could say I specialize in erotic art."
"She's really gaining a name for herself," Sam chimed in. "She's sold pieces to collectors all over the world."
"Sex sells," Nikki quipped, waving her fork dismissively. "The truth is I'm a nepo baby."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"My father was a renowned art expert and critic, the kind of guy who could make or break your career," she explained. "Highly respected. He met my mother at a fashion show in Milan. She was modeling at the time, barely eighteen. He was in his fifties. They had a whirlwind affair that resulted in Dante. For some ungodly reason, they decided to get married and, a few years later, I came along. It wasn't long after that when mommy dearest decided she wasn't cut out for motherhood and ran off with some B-list actor. They both died of a drug overdose at a hotel in Cannes before I was even six."
"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," I said, horrified.
"Don't be. I never even knew her and, frankly, it doesn't sound like I missed much. The end result was that Dante and I were raised in various European countries by a succession of nannies, most of whom were sleeping with my father at the time. At some point, he decided that we needed to be more grounded, so he moved us here to be closer to my mother's parents. Mind you, they'd never even met us before that. I was probably around twelve at the time. I'm sure I was absolutely insufferable. I know for a fact that Dante was. In our defense, Salisbury, Maryland is a far cry from Paris, Prague, and Amsterdam.
"He opened Avant Garde and tried his best to be a supportive, present father figure. To his credit, he waited until I graduated high school before he grew bored and decided he missed Europe. And eighteen-year-old models, which are few and far between in these parts."
"You found me," Sam said with a grin.
"Yeah, but you're not exactly my dad's type," Nikki said dryly. "Anyway, he lasted long enough to establish the gallery's reputation as a real force in the art world despite the fact that it was located in the middle of fucking nowhere, then he jetted off to Italy and turned the business over to Dante and I. I'm pretty sure it was just a ploy to try and force us to get along."
"Did it work?" Aidan asked.
She gave him a look. "You've met him. What do you think?"
He chuckled. "I'm guessing not so much."
"You guessed correctly. We've fought all our lives, and I don't see that changing any time soon unless Dante manages to get that stick out of his butt — your words, not mine — and let's face it, that's not going to happen. But enough about me, although, I have to admit, I am my favorite topic. Tell me more about you guys. Did you grow up here? Are you in school? Are you guys a thing? Aidan, have you ever thought about modeling? I'm always looking for subjects..."
I was sputtering before she finished shooting off her list of questions, but Aidan just took it in stride with a laugh.
"Will grew up here, I grew up in Pennsylvania. I go to Pemberton, Will works. We are just roommates and only met like two weeks ago so we are definitely not a thing. And no, I've never considered modeling and, while I won't write it off completely, I'm not sure I'm confident enough to be one of your muses."
Nikki was visibly delighted with Aidan's rapidfire responses.
"So wait!" she said with excitement. "You're telling me that you're not an established couple? But the chemistry is palpable! Please tell me you're both part of the rainbow mafia at least."
"I'm guilty as charged," Aidan said with a charming smile. "I'll let Will answer for himself."
"Why start now?" she shot back, waggling her eyebrows.
It was my turn to laugh. "I'm..." I started to say 'straight,' but the word caught in my throat. I glanced over at Aidan, who just gave me a small smile, then shrugged. "Figuring it out."
"That's fair," Nikki said. "Anyway, what are you studying at school, Aidan?"
She'd moved on so quickly, but I felt like something momentous had just happened. I stopped listening to the conversation that continued to flow around me while I stared at the remains of my vegetarian lasagna on my plate.
Why did I say that? There was nothing to figure out.
I could feel myself starting to spiral and made a deliberate effort to shake it off. When my mind finally managed to tune back in, Sam was in the middle of a story about some old rich lady who'd offered him a very large sum of money to be her live-in houseboy after the unveiling of the statue he'd modeled for. He was, in fact, hung like a horse.
The rest of the week was comparatively uneventful. Joey, Mackenzie, Laura, and Gabe came over for a movie night, which seemed to go well enough. I was careful to be on my best behavior, and, if I felt a few pangs of jealousy at the possessive way Mackenzie treated Joey, I did my best to just sit in those feelings and not let them get the best of me.
Aidan and I continued to get to know each other. I was quickly coming to think of him as a true friend. I wondered what effect, if any, it would have on my friendship with Joey, which despite the movie night, continued to grow ever more distant.
By the time the weekend rolled around, I was starting to get excited to see what my paintings looked like framed. I dressed in a button-down shirt and my best pair of jeans and drove downtown once again, only without an entourage.
Loud electronic music poured out of the open door of Avant Garde and drifted down the plaza, drawing me in like the visible scent of a fresh pie cooling on a window sill in an old cartoon. I spotted Nikki the moment I stepped inside. She was hard to miss. The tips of her hair were now a deep red, as if she'd dipped her hair in blood, and she was wearing a matching mini dress that was cinched at the waist with a length of chain with a padlock on one hip. Black patent leather boots and dangly silver earrings completed the outfit.
She was busy hanging a painting as I approached and didn't notice me. I looked over her shoulder and gasped when I saw what she was hanging.
She spun around at my gasp, knocking the painting askew on its hanger. "Oh, Will! You startled me. I didn't hear you come in. What do you think? Your door looks different, huh?"
Did it ever! I hardly recognized it as my work. I couldn't believe the difference a mat and frame could make. She'd chosen a simple cream colored mat with a frame that mimicked the feel of the weathered wood in my painting.
"Wow!" was all I could manage.
"See? You know you've got talent when you impress yourself," she said with a chuckle as she straightened it.
"It's not that—" I said quickly, but she cut me off.
"Of course it is. Every artist feels the same way the first time they see their work displayed properly. There's a bit of vanity in it, sure, but that's only natural. Call it pride in your work or something like that."
"It just looks so different. Did you do anything to it?"
"I would never tamper with someone else's work. It's all yours, kiddo. All I did was stick a mat and frame on it. The others are over there," she said, pointing them out.
I went and stood in front of each one, taking them in with a sense of wonder. She'd chosen the perfect frames for each one, accentuating the artwork without distracting.
Nikki followed me silently, enjoying every second of my reaction.
"Nikki!" a male voice bellowed, ruining our moment. "Why are there mermaids having sex in my office?"
Dante barrelled into the room, but came skidding to a halt when he saw me. "Oh, excuse me. Mr. Keegan, wasn't it?"
"They're not mermaids; they're merpeople. One is clearly male. And they're in your office because a potential buyer is on the way here, and your office is bigger than mine. It's what you get for claiming the bigger office. I understand you two have met."
Dante glared first at Nikki, then at me as if this were somehow my fault. "Yes, Mr. Keegan came in last week with his agent. I'm assuming from your presence here today that we are, in fact, representing you in this region?"
"Oh, for God's sake, Dante!" Nikki said in an exasperated tone. "Get that damn stick out of your ass. Will is my neighbor and a friend and, yes, we are representing his work."
Dante looked pissed for a moment, then spun on the heel of his expensive Italian leather shoe and stormed off in the direction he had come from.
"Sorry about that," Nikki said with a little sigh. "We should never be working together. Father says that after he dies, we'll inherit the place and then one of us can buy the other out if we are so inclined, but, until then, he technically still owns it, so here we are."
"Couldn't you just work somewhere else?"
"Sure, but then I couldn't make Dante's life a living hell, and what's the fun in that?"
I laughed, and she gave me a wink.
"Come on back to my office. I'll have you fill out the paperwork, and then I need to get you to write on the back of each painting."
"Write what?"
"The title of the piece and any information about what inspired it or where it is. Then write 'Original Watercolor by Will Keegan' and sign it. Buyers love that shit. Makes it more personal."
I nodded and followed her into her office. It turned out to be just as cluttered as I would have imagined. She shifted a stack of catalogs from a chair onto the floor to clear a space for me to sit, then handed me a pen and some forms. It was mostly personal information for something called an artist's bio, and an agreement to pay thirty percent of any sales facilitated by the gallery.
While I was filling them out, Nikki asked, "Can I ask you a question?"
I looked up. Something about the way she'd asked that made me nervous, but I said, "Uh...yeah, sure. I guess."
"I know you and Aidan said you're not together, but would you ever consider posing together?"
"Uh...what do you mean?"
"I haven't been able to stop thinking about the two of you since dinner the other night. There's just something about your physicality, the height difference, I don't know. I have this idea for another fantasy-inspired couple."
"Would we have to be nude?"
"Preferably, yes."
"No way!" I could feel my face heating up.
"Oh! Sorry. I didn't mean any offense. Not all my models are couples. Sam posed with another male model and he's definitely not into guys." She winked.
"I'm not offended. I just..." My blush deepened.
Nikki laughed. "You know, not all my art is erotic." She handed me a binder with glossy full-sheet photos of her past work. More than half were erotic, often mythical beings in the throes of passion, but the rest were simply beautiful expressions of love and affection, some suggestive, perhaps, but not explicitly sexual. Both male and female couples and same-sex couples were represented.
"Well, anyway, no pressure. But let me know if you change your mind."
I didn't think there was much chance of that happening, but I nodded anyway.
"Is Dante an artist, too?" I asked to change the subject.
"He thinks so," she said with a most unlady-like snort. "His stuff is that modern expressionist crap in the gallery. I wouldn't have it here if it weren't for him. Of course he says the same thing about my 'pornography.'" She shrugged.
I finished the paperwork, which she took and filed in a folder with my name on it, and we returned to the gallery floor. I wrote the requested information on the back of each painting with a felt-tip pen and, after admiring my paintings once more and taking a few pictures, I headed home, my head still swimming.
In just two weeks my entire life had changed. I'd moved out of my childhood home, met a whole new set of friends, my paintings were hanging in a gallery, and I'd accepted that I might like guys. Or at least one guy.
What next? I wondered.
If someone had answered my question at that moment I would have never believed them.
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