I held my perspiring champagne glass while I observed the crowd at my gallery show in the wondrous city of New York. My eyes kept wandering back to the woman admiring my work while I sipped on my glass.
She'd turn her head this way and that while digesting the painting in front of her, obviously intrigued and contemplating what it meant. The gallery and the crowd seemed to disappear as I continued to stare at this woman, and for the life of me I couldn't grasp as to why it was so. The music that was lingering in the background complemented the atmosphere of the event down to the last, grainy detail as my agent promised. I smiled to myself in light of that regard and lifted my gaze back to the beauty viewing my art but she seemed to have disappeared.
I felt a tap on my shoulder when I was just starting to wonder and I turned to meet a pair of incredibly green eyes looking at me intently. I was a little startled and I think for some reason that flattered her because she glinted her eyes at me. I felt as though the ball was in my court so to speak, so I began the conversation as any decent person would.
"What a shit show, hmm?" I said as I took another sip of champagne.
"Really? I was starting to enjoy myself, actually." She retorted. I noted a sweet lilt of brogue in her voice that made her all the more captivating to me. And, it sounded like she had a relatively perky sense of humor, which I enjoyed as well.
"Well, I suppose it's decent. I saw you admiring the artist's work."
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do at a gallery, though?" She fired back with a little too much enthusiasm. Were her eyelashes fluttering or was that my wishful thinking? I put the blame on the alcohol for now and realized I was late on my reply that she was eagerly looking forward to.
"Yes, yes, you're right. I've gathered that everyone else here has followed your lead-"
"Yes, but not you." She said, her vowels lingering longer due to her heritage.
"I was... simply observing." I flashed her a grin as I downed the rest of my glass, tilting my head back.
"Simply observing or simply watching me?"
I felt as though a hidden challenge laid in wait, begging to be met with vigor. I was stalling still, my jaw moving with no words coming out. It was humiliating at first, but then my calm, cool demeanor came back when I noticed her fingers that were holding her glass started sliding back and forth mingling with the beads of water. It was quite sexual, or at least I perceived it that way.
"I was watching you, yes, but I had my reasons." I wanted to keep her guessing if she were truly that intrigued. Her pale skin seemed to glow when I revealed that to her. She moved the few strands of hair that fell in her eyes and tucked it behind her ear as she mentally begged me with her eyes to continue.
"Reasons being that... I would like to know why you were so captivated by that painting." I cleared my throat and also tucked my hair behind my ear hoping in vain she didn't think I was mimicking her out of desperation for a quick flirt or something else that could insult her. There was just something about her that kept me talking. It could've been the accent but that would be picking petals off a flower if I equated her to that. I didn't know her at all but I felt as though I were remembering her, parts about her. The striking beauty she possessed, her green eyes that bore through me, her pale skin that glinted and gleamed like ivory under a soft light, the short-cropped raven hair that hung gracefully along her neck – it was all speaking volumes to me and the only thing I was lacking was a good translator; and she fit the bill perfectly in retrospect to the situation.
"I am captivated by it still, in case you were wondering. I'm not too keen on, however, explaining the reasons to someone who can't appreciate art though." She retorted with earnest. I felt a tiny tremor of fear run through me at hearing that, it was as though she'd mistaken me for an asshole for stating what I said in a past tense.
"Forgive me. I am grammatically correct most of the time, but it appears I missed a lot of important lessons on my sick days back in high school." I quoted 'sick days' with the universal hand gesture, and continued. "... But, I'm the artist so I was simply admiring someone who could understand what I tried to convey."
Her slightly furrowed brows from earlier shifted to one of complete shock, then worry. She blinked a few times out of disorientation and looked back at me with an imploring look. I concluded to myself that when it dawned on her who I was, her sass took a back seat and it looked like she wanted to apologize. I like to play cat and mouse games so I decided to play and see where it lead. I needed a distraction to come and intervene and it was at that moment Billy Connoway, my agent, came to my aid when I rather heard his arrival than sensed it as I usually do.
"Sherron! Jesus, girl, you're going to give me a heart attack if you don't start picking up your phone more often. Some clients from last week's interview are here to discuss some of your commission ideas and they're not exactly the type of people to keep waiting for twenty minutes if you catch my dri- Oh... hello there, I had no idea you had company." Billy said while extending his hand out to the art admirer of the evening.
"Billy Connoway, or better known as my nickname, Casanova." He said with a little too much arrogance. His short-cropped blonde hair was slicked back, adding that fifties' era to his chiseled features. He was undressing her with his blue eyes, trailing up and down completely oblivious of how much of a typical man he was. I noted her eyes scrutinizing him after his introduction and I couldn't help but chuckle; he always managed to get every woman in Manhattan to hate him in less than thirty seconds of knowing him.
"Veronica Sutherland, charmed." Said the vixen to my right with a hint of a sting to her words.
Billy looked at me in response expecting me to reply in spite of her comment but I took my leave with him; partly due to keeping Ms. Sutherland intrigued with my departure and to not my piss my clients off for another minute longer.
"On that note, Veronica, I'll see you around." Billy whispered with a sexual undertone and a wink. Veronica looked insulted and I scoffed at him.
"Billy, I could only fathom how difficult it is to hold your composure when you get a hard-on every minute but there is an art to seduction and I don't think you've quite grasped the concept yet." I said with a hand on his shoulder. I gave him a gentle pat.
Veronica snorted with some light laughter and I turned to her and gave her the most dazzling smile I could muster. Billy saluted her as he led me further out of sight. Right before I passed the wall that would close off my view of her, I saw that she was gazing at me in a longing manner. Although, her contrapposto stance was perfectly relaxed, it was her eyes that were revealing what her body language was hiding from me. I vowed to myself that I needed to find out more about her. It was not because of our immediate attraction to each other, not entirely, but it was something that I couldn't quite put my finger on – all I knew was that something was compelling me to find out.
* * * * * * *
"Ms. Fischer, I'll confess to you right now that I am your lucky man in that regard! Consider it expunged! Aha!" Mr. Morgan wheezed after taking a puff from his cigar.
He was retorting to a comment I made about a certain misdemeanor that was never erased off my record a few years back. To my dismay, this discussion came to fruition because of a joke Billy said regarding having an indecent exposure charge on one's permanent record. The man blowing smoke in my face recently bought the oil painting I completed while I was in Europe for a week roughly five years ago. He walked up to me after I had met with my clients and told me what he thought the painting meant. After his explanation, I had no fear telling him that he was completely wrong, which then led him to argue about it. And that's when Billy chimed in with his crude joke about how I've been trying to pull my pants up for the past few years due to my hunger for the same sex.
"You've been very helpful, Mr. Morgan, I never expected to befriend such a Samaritan at heart, for being a lawyer, that is." I concluded the small chat, shook his hand and wished him a farewell as my feet led me to the bar. I heard Billy's footsteps catching up to me as I tried to walk faster.
"So, that went well."
I turned around with a swivel of my heel and came to abrupt halt in front of him.
"Which part? The part where you completely stripped me of dignity in front of a stranger with a fuck ton of strong ties to the press, or the part where I saved my own ass and sold him my painting? I loved that painting, Billy. There was a lot of meaning to it. I put too much emotion into that canvas for a pig of a man like that to brag and show it to all his moronic friends." I said in dismay. I passed the bartender a bill and in return he passed me a Gin and Tonic on a napkin. I stirred it with the straw, tossed the red piece of plastic aside and relished the cold, strong elixir after the first sip. It was definitely what I needed after that scene.
"Alright, while you sit over here and pout, I'm going to find that Scottish tart. Did you see the way she looked at me?" He said with glee.
"You mean when she looked like she was going to rip your dick off?" I retorted.
"That is so not true! She wanted me. I could feel it! She said she was charmed to meet me anyway..."
"That was sarcasm, Bill. Look, stupid-fight aside, thanks for the show. I enjoyed myself. You were spot on with how the event would turn out and I think the critics will leave some impressing reviews come next column of The NY Arts Magazine." I stood up out of the bar stool and let my Bistre brown hair fall loosely over my shoulders. After I gathered my drink and cigarettes, I threw Billy my car keys.
"Oof! Well thanks a lot, Sher! That's splendid! Leave me out in the cold." He shrugged and pouted his bottom lip. I laughed as I was walking away, saying, "You know I love you, Bill. That is for picking up another bottle of that champagne served here tonight. Don't bother going to the back to fetch another, I tried. It seems that we are all quite the alcoholics because we had, ...that's past tense in case you're too inebriated to calculate that at the moment, fifty stored in the back room to serve approximately seventy-five people every ten minutes. Oh, and could you also pick up some Gouda and crackers? And don't forget the strawberries this time, Billy. You always do. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to go searching for a lucky four-leafed clover." All I could hear after that was the relaxed ambiance of the gallery so I assumed Billy caught his tongue in his throat for some odd reason.
And I laughed even harder when I looked back at Billy to see he couldn't identify the reference to Veronica.
"Are you really going to end your night with downing cheese with champagne alone in your room?" Billy said with obvious curiosity.
"I'll be in company by the time I get to my room, that's why." I mentioned, albeit bluntly.
"Hmm. Sounds intriguing. Are you ever going to let me come and watch?" Billy exclaimed with a demonic glint in his glazed eyes.
"Is it even possible for you to not act like a total dog?" Anyone within a ten-foot radius would hear crystal clear what we were bickering about.
"Fuck'n hell, Sher. I was just joking. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go fetch some cheese and club soda. I'll return these to you so you can manage to get your ass back home." Dangling the keys in front of me, he tossed them in the air and caught them midway.
He turned, casually draped his coat over his shoulder and waltzed away.
* * * * * * *
