Текст книги "Painless"

Автор книги: Devon Hartford

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Текущая страница: 29 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

Brandon nodded. “I can’t thank you both enough for agreeing to do this. And thank you, Nikolos, for suggesting it. I’m so glad Christos agreed to it. And you, too, Spiridon.”

“It’s the least we could do,” Spiridon said, “for family.”

Nikolos nodded.

“Well, thank you,” Brandon said. “This is truly a historic event.”

“Yes it is,” Spiridon said reverently.

Everyone was in such a good mood, it was contagious.

Brandon smiled, “I need to get back to it. People are waiting for me because they want to buy more art,” He raised both eyebrows and smiled before withdrawing into the ocean of people in tuxes and black dresses.

I glanced at the placard on Spiridon’s painting. The price tag read, $475,000. Jesus Christ, the Manos family made money like crazy when it came to selling their art.

“Where did you paint this one, Spiridon?” I asked, motioning toward the landscape. It was a gorgeous painting of sun breaking through clouds over a huge mountain valley.

“Yosemite,” Spiridon said.

“You mean you went back after that deer tried to eat your watercolors?” I quipped.

“You remembered our story about the deer!” Nikolos chuckled.

“Of course I remembered!” I grinned at him. “I remember all your stories. I’m going to write them all down someday,” I winked. I looked around for a moment and sighed, overwhelmed by all the excitement and the amazing art. “Wow, you guys,” I smiled, “You have so many awesome paintings here tonight. I can’t believe it.”

Spiridon and Nikolos smiled back at me.

Spiridon shrugged, “It’s just art.”

“Just art,” I scoffed. Maybe they were bored with lavish gallery openings after decades. What did I know?

“Hey,” Spiridon said, “remember that show you had in New York? I think it was 1984?”

Nikolos chuckled, “I’ve tried to block out all of 1984.”

“You know the one. The one with the fire?”

Nikolos’ eyes widened. “Oh! That show.”

Spiridon nodded knowingly.

“What happened,” I asked, all ears.

Nikolos said, “I got the idea that if I set one of my paintings on fire in the gallery, it would create a real buzz in the art world.”

Spiridon grinned, obviously knowing where the story was going.

Nikolos continued, “Too bad the only buzz was when the fire department showed up and kicked everyone out of the gallery.”

Spiridon shook his head, smiling.

“Did anyone get hurt?” I asked.

“Just my sales,” Nikolos winked.

“So you won’t set anything on fire tonight?” I joked.

Nikolos looked at Spiridon, “Have I told you how much I like this girl?” He wrapped an arm around my neck and gave me a friendly hug.

“Nikolos was always about the marketing from the beginning,” Spiridon said. “He knew what he was doing, and he wanted to sell paintings. But setting that painting on fire wasn’t the only brilliant marketing idea he had, was it, son? Remember that time you covered yourself in paint and rolled around on a canvas in the middle of the gallery opening?”

My eyes widened, “You did that?”

“Yup,” Nikolos nodded. “Nude.”

“While people watched?” I asked in complete disbelief.

“For a packed house,” he said.

“How’d it go over?”

“People loved it.” Nikolos made a funny face. “I was so ‘experimental’,” he made finger quotes, “I was pushing the envelope.”

“The only thing he hadn’t factored in,” Spiridon said conspiratorially, “was how hard it was to get the paint off afterward.”

Nikolos squeezed his eyes shut and cackled as he said, “Who knew peeling acrylic paint of your privates would hurt so much!”

“What!” I gasped, covering my mouth.

Nikolos nodded, “But the worst part was getting it out of my hair. I ended up shaving my head and my jewels.”

My mouth Oed.

“I warned you,” Spiridon said affectionately.

Spiridon and Nikolos laughed and shook their heads at the shared memory.

These two were full of endless stories about art adventures.

“So, did you sell your pubic painting to public?” I asked satirically.

Spiridon chuckled, “Pubic painting…”

I winked at him.

“Of course I did,” Nikolos scoffed.

“Did the bonus pubic hair up the price?” I asked innocently.

Spiridon and Nikolos chuckled heartily.

“Not that I remember,” Nikolos said. “But it should have. That buyer got my DNA. You can’t get better authentication than that. Hey, I should use that as a marketing angle.”

“What,” Spiridon said, “putting your pubic hair in all your paintings?”

“Why not?” Nikolos grinned.

“Know your limits, son,” Spiridon smiled smugly, patting him on the shoulder.

“So,” I said, “how much did the pubic hair painting sell for?”

“Oh, boy.” Nikolos looked thoughtfully at the ceiling, remembering. “I think two twenty five?”

“Dollars?” I asked.

“Thousand,” Nikolos chuckled.

“$225,000?” I gasped.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Wow, when did you do that?”

“Way back in ’88, I think. I told you I wanted to forget the eighties,” he grinned at Spiridon.

“Come on,” Spiridon said enthusiastically, “you were young. You were having fun. In those days, that was all you and Vesile did—” Spiridon suddenly stopped himself, clamping his mouth shut.

Nikolos dropped his chin to his chest and his shoulders sunk.

“I’m sorry, son” Spiridon said to him softly, draping his arm over Nikolos’ shoulders.

I wasn’t entirely sure why Nikolos was so emotional. But I did know one thing from working with him in his studio all the time. He never talked about his ex-wife, Christos’ mom, and I never asked. I really knew hardly anything about her. And from what I could tell, Nikolos didn’t date anybody at all. He just painted and spent time with friends and family.

“Are you okay, Nikolos?” I asked, suddenly worried. He seemed really distraught.

Nikolos raised his head and blinked away tears. “It’s nothing. I’m okay.” He turned his head away, trying to hide the emotion on his face. “Don’t worry about it,” he said a moment later. “I’ll be fine,” he sniffed.

Wow, he must have loved Vesile like crazy if he still broke down twelve years after she’d left.

I felt so bad for him.

* * *

“All right everybody,” Brandon said over the microphone. He stood in front of the two paintings still covered in black silk, “There’s one more surprise. The final unveiling. I’m sure you’re all wondering about the two paintings that are still covered up.”

The crowd murmured agreement.

“I’ll let Christos fill you in himself.” Brandon handed the mic to Christos and stepped out of the spotlight.

Christos had been so busy for the last hour, I hadn’t said a single word to him.

“Some of you may know,” Christos said to the crowd, “that a very special woman came into my life nine months ago. If you haven’t met her, you’ve already seen her in my painting entitled LOVE. That’s me and her, Samantha Smith, together. Samantha, will you come up here?”

Gulp.

Christos shaded his eyes from the spotlight with his hand and searched the crowd for me.

Nervousness suddenly seized me. Did I have to stand in front of everyone? Of course I did. But maybe I wouldn’t have to say anything.

“Go, Sam,” Madison prodded at my elbow.

“Yeah,” Romeo said, pushing my back gently, “get up there.”

I didn’t have a choice. I made my way through the crowd and stepped into the spotlight. It was really effing bright. I squinted until my eyes adjusted. I hoped nobody was snapping photos. I probably looked terrible.

Christos took my hand and held it in his.

I’d never felt so on the spot in my entire life. Literally.

Christos smiled at me, gazing into my eyes. He said to the mic, “What none of you know is how much Samantha means to me,”

His blue eyes burned into my heart in that moment, in a good way. Oh my god, where was this going?

“Samantha has been an inspiration to me since the day we met,” Christos said. “If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know that I’d be here tonight.”

Gulp.

“Samantha saved my life, and for that, I am forever grateful. But more than that, she has been my guide. She has shown me how to embrace myself, to be me. Not someone else. Her courage blows me away every time I think about it. She moved all the way to San Diego from Washington D.C. with the dream of becoming an artist. And she never wavered from it. She stuck to her guns, no matter what challenges life put in her way. She has come so far in such a short time. She has a natural talent for art that I’ve never seen before. Sadly, for all her hard work, Samantha has never had a painting in a gallery show.”

Christos paused while the crowd went “Awww.”

He continued, “But she should. She’s an amazing artist already, and she’s just getting started. So, without further ado, I introduce you all to master artist Samantha Anna Smith.”

One of the two remaining black silks dropped to the floor.

I was going to cry all over myself.

It was my phoenix sunset landscape painting I’d done for the Contemporary Artists Show, the one Brandon rejected. I couldn’t stop myself. Tears ran down my face.

The whole room clapped. I was overwhelmed by their energy. I leaned into Christos and hugged his chest. I was laughing and crying at the same time. I couldn’t believe what was happening. My tears dripped all over his black T shirt. I buried my face in it.

Christos leaned down and whispered in my ear, “You have no idea how much I love you Samantha Anna Smith.”

No, I think I did. I sobbed and laughed.

After a minute, he muttered “Are you okay, agápi mou?”

“Yeah,” I sniffed, “I think I died and went to heaven.”

The crowd was starting to make a bunch of noise. Everyone was talking about my painting.

“Hold on,” Christos said into the mic. “We have one more surprise. When I saw this painting of Samantha’s that you’re looking at now, I was blown away by it. She’s only been painting in oils for six months, and I think it’s fucking incredible.”

Several people in the crowd chuckled.

I spontaneously pulled the microphone down to my mouth and said, “I had a lot of good advice from all of the Manos men. I couldn’t have done it without a million tips from them.”

The crowd chuckled.

“It was all her,” Spiridon shouted from the back.

More laughs from the crowd.

“Go, Sam!” Madison shouted.

I think it was Jake next to her who did one of those really loud whistles.

“SAAAMMMM!!!” Romeo squealed. “I want to be your baby daddy!”

I heard Kamiko laughing next to him.

I was going to pass out from happiness in about thirty seconds. I was totally, joyously overwhelmed. I’d never felt so accepted, or so important, in my entire life. It was incredible.

Christos spoke into the mic, “I’ve been so inspired by Samantha’s transformation from a mousy little girl to an amazing artist, I wanted to immortalize the person I know her to be in my final painting of the evening.” He motioned to the big painting behind him still covered in black silk. “She has a warrior spirit, and she is indomitable. I wanted to pay tribute to that.”

Christos nodded to Brandon and the final black silk fell away.

The crowd gasped and went silent.

It was so quiet, not even the dropping pins made a sound.

I was almost afraid to turn around and look at the painting.

But I did.

Oh, my god.

It was amazing.

It was me, a life size painting of me as a naked angel with wings of fire. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I stood in a graceful pose, my arms spread wide to the sides, the pose I’d held in our studio until my neck and shoulders had cramped into knots. The huge angel’s wings sprouting out behind me were made of fiery red and gold feathers. I floated in the air above the surface of the earth, which was a wide curve at the bottom of the painting, running from left to right. The purple blackness of space, surrounding the golden orange flames dancing around my legs, held thousands of shining stars.

Christos’ portrait of me as a fiery angel had a similar palette of colors to my phoenix sunset. They looked like a matched set. His and hers paintings honoring the energy of creation, done in red jewels and molten gold.

I was overwhelmed. My knees gave out.

But Christos caught me.

He always did.

I was the luckiest girl on the planet.

* * *

After Christos unveiled his painting of me as the fiery angel, everyone crowded around the two of us. They couldn’t get close enough to Christos. Everyone wanted a piece of him. It was kind of scary, actually. It was this weird mob mentality fame thing. I guess this was what being famous was like. It was weird being the center of attention, but with Christos beside me, I was fine.

People were asking both me and Christos tons of questions about the paintings and our relationship. We just answered them as they asked. Everyone was entranced with the idea that we were two painters in love, inspired by each other’s creative ideas. I guess maybe I took it for granted. Not in a thoughtless way. I just never really stopped to think about how special what we had really was.

One of the most common comments we heard was about the similarity of color palette and subject matter of our two paintings. When people asked, Christos told everybody casually, “I know genius when I see it. I just took Samantha’s idea and ran with it.” That was a total exaggeration, but every time he said it, even after the hundredth, I was stunned and flattered and blushed like crazy.

I did so much smiling, my cheeks started to hurt. Was it possible to get cheek muscle cramps? I wouldn’t mind if I did. It was worth it. I don’t think I’d ever been this completely happy in my entire life.

At some point during the evening, Christos whispered in my ear, “Do you realize we’ve been standing here talking to people for almost two hours?”

“I know. I totally have to pee,” I hissed.

“Keep holding it. It’s your job,” he winked.

Brandon came walking up to us. “You’re never going to believe this.” His eyes were on fire with excitement.

“I probably will,” Christos said casually.

“Everything has sold.”

“You mean all of my paintings?” Christos said uncertainly. “Or all of them?”

Christos had less than ten paintings in the show, so that’s probably what Brandon meant. Christos sold more paintings at his solo show last year. But between all the paintings from Spiridon and Nikolos, there were at least sixty or seventy on sale tonight. That was a lot of paintings to sell during a single show.

“No,” Brandon said, “Everything has sold. Your father’s, your grandfather’s, all of it. Well, everything except one.”

I could only assume Brandon meant my painting. It was the obvious one not to sell. Spiridon, Nikolos, and Christos were world famous artists with reputations. The Manos family had a painting legacy, and people wanted to buy a piece of their fame to hang on their walls while it appreciated in value. I was just the girlfriend. I doubted anyone actually wanted my painting. Sure, it made for a good story to go with Christos’ life sized portrait of me, but that was all.

“Which one hasn’t sold?” Christos asked.

I grit my teeth in preparation of the news. I’d get over it. One day, I’d sell a painting at an art gallery show. Just not tonight.

“Yours,” Brandon said.

That’s what I thought. Oh, wait. Was he talking to me, or Christos?

Christos said, “You mean Samantha’s painting sold?”

Brandon scoffed, “Of course Samantha’s painting sold. I sold it five minutes after it was unveiled.”

“What? No way!” Christos blurted.

Okay, my brain must have broken, because I think Brandon just said my silly little fantasy landscape had sold tonight.

Brandon nodded and grinned at me and Christos.

“How much did it sell for?” Christos asked.

Brandon’s smile peeled back charmingly and he said, “Twenty-seven thousand.”

I slapped my hand over my wide open mouth, stopping my broken brains from rolling right out.

Christos grinned at me and rubbed my back affectionately, causing a shiver to run up my spine. “I knew you would,” he said.

“I didn’t!” I said, flabbergasted. “You know what this means?”

“What?” Christos asked.

“I’m going to be able to pay my tuition next year!” I hopped up in the air with my arms over my head. “Yes!”

Christos hugged me and kissed me. “Congratulations, agápi mou. It was only a matter of time until you started selling. Didn’t I tell you that when we first met?”

“You did!” I said gleefully. Wow. I couldn’t believe it. My dreams were coming true like I’d never imagined!

I was definitely the luckiest girl in the world tonight!

* * *

CHRISTOS

“So, Brandon,” I said, turning to face him, “which painting hasn’t sold tonight?”

“Your portrait of Samantha as the fiery angel,” he answered.

“Oh,” Samantha crooned. “I’m sorry, Christos. Your painting of me is so beautiful. I would totally buy it, if I could afford it. Would you take twenty-seven grand for it?” She winked at me.

“Thanks, agápi mou,” I said reassuringly. “Save your money for your tuition. Besides, if no one buys my portrait of you, I’ll fucking keep it,” I smiled. “I put my heart into it.” I glanced behind us at the eight foot tall fiery angel winged Samantha portrait hanging on the wall. “Yeah, I would never get tired of looking at it. It’s the real you, agápi mou, the one I see every time I look at you, the one other people don’t always realize is there.”

“Oh, Christos,” Samantha sighed, “I love you so much.” She leaned into me and hugged me around the waist.

“I love you too, agápi mou,” I said and kissed the top of her head. “Hold on a second,” I blurted, suddenly realizing something. “Brandon, did my LOVE portrait of me and Samantha sell too?”

“Yeah,” Brandon nodded. “For half a million.”

“What?!” Samantha blurted

“Yes,” Brandon’s smile widened. “You heard me right. A half a million dollars.”

Samantha clapped both her hands to her face, “Oh my god! I can’t believe someone bought a picture of you and me nude!”

I grinned at her, “Believe it.” I turned to Brandon, “So, who bought it?”

Brandon’s eyes flashed and he looked away momentarily. “It was, uh, an anonymous buyer.”

I could tell Brandon was hiding something. “Anonymous?” I said sarcastically. “It’s not like we’re selling porn or drugs. You can tell me, Brandon.”

Brandon shook his head seriously, “I was given explicit instructions not to reveal the buyer’s identity under any circumstances.”

Samantha said, “Now I’m totally curious.”

“I can’t tell you,” Brandon shrugged. “It was in the terms of the contract.”

“Terms?” I asked. “It wasn’t Stanford Wentworth, was it?”

“No,” he chuckled.

“Who’s Stanford Wentworth,” Samantha asked.

She’d been spared the torture of enduring Wentworth’s visit to my studio that day he’d said I needed to change up my paintings because they were shit, and had said Samantha’s Calla Lily oil study was awful. Thinking about him now, all I wanted to do was punch his face in then rub it in the pile of money I was making tonight. Then I heard Russell Merriweather’s voice echoing through my head, “No. More. Fights.” I smiled to myself.

Brandon said, “Stanford Wentworth is one of the richest art buyers in the world, Samantha. He can make someone’s career if he buys their art.”

“Oh,” she said, “That sounds like a good thing.”

“He’s also a prick,” I said. “I don’t want his sorry ass owning my art. I’m doing fine without him.”

Brandon said, “What if I told you he put in a bid on your portrait of Samantha?”

“No shit,” I chuckled.

“He did,” Brandon said.

A smug smile spread across my face, “I guess he changed his tune about my art.” Knowing it gave me a delicious sense of satisfaction.

“Wentworth was one of the early bidders. Once the other buyers started driving up the price,” Brandon smiled conspiratorially, “he was mysteriously unable to get any more bids through to me.”

I grinned back at Brandon. Wentworth had been a prick to him that day at my studio, too. Brandon was blocking him out of the bidding process. Wentworth had a bit of a reputation as a star maker. He would sweep up an artist’s early work, before they were famous, and hold onto it. This would drive up demand on the artist’s work, at which point Wentworth would often sell it for a hefty profit. Fuck him. He wasn’t going to make a dime off my sweat. He’d had his shot that day at the studio and he’d blown it.

“So, Brandon,” I asked, “what’s the status on the bidding?”

“Actually,” Brandon smiled smugly, “It’s turning into something of a heated battle. Two people here tonight have insisted the painting must be theirs, and four other buyers on the phone are calling me every five minutes to find out if they need to raise their bid or not.”

“I hope none of the people on the phone are agents of Wentworth’s,” I said.

“No,” Brandon said, “I know all of them well. We’re in the clear. Wentworth will walk away empty handed after tonight.”

I nodded approvingly.

“Wow,” Samantha said, “If you’re turning buyers away, that means you’re totally popular, Christos!”

“What’s the bid up to?” I asked Brandon.

He grinned, “One point five million.”

“Holy shit!” Samantha blurted.

I felt the same way.

Brandon’s phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at it before turning to me, “Another bidder calls. The price keeps climbing. I’ve got to answer this,” he smiled as he walked off, holding his phone to his ear.

“Christos, that’s insane!” Samantha squealed. “You’re making so much money tonight!”

“You are too,” I said.

“I know,” she smiled. “Twenty-seven grand! I can’t believe it!”

“You’re making a hell of a lot more than that.”

Her brows narrowed, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m splitting whatever I get on my portrait of you, and the LOVE portrait of both of us, with you.”

“What?! That’s crazy. Those are your paintings! I can’t take your money!”

“What do you mean? I wouldn’t have either painting if it wasn’t for you. All I’d have is a self portrait of myself and some paintings of Brandon’s L.A. models. I don’t think there’d be a million dollar bidding war over any of them. You made both paintings special, agápi mou. You, Samantha Anna Smith. Because you’re my girlfriend, you’re in the paintings, and you’re an amazing artist in your own right. This is the stuff art history books write about a hundred years from now. The whole story, the whole package. Us. You and me. Without you, I’d be the third Manos. With you and your art, I’m something special.”

“I don’t know, Christos,” Samantha frowned, “it’s so much money.”

“So what? It doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it.”

“I can’t take your money, Christos,” she sighed.

“Why not? Let me put it another way. What if I’d painted a portrait of you, spent maybe two or three hours on it, and sold it for, say, two hundred bucks. Would you split the money with me then? I get a hundred for painting it, you get a hundred for modeling?”

She frowned, “I guess.”

“So what’s the difference between that and this?”

“Hundreds of thousands of dollars!” she blurted.

“No,” I shook my head adamantly, “That shouldn’t make any difference. Do you think just because more money is involved you deserve less?”

“Well, no, I guess not.”

I nodded, “In any fifty-fifty partnership, each person gets half, right?”

“But you’re talking about more money than I’ve ever imagined,” she said nervously.

“So what? Don’t undervalue yourself, agápi mou.”

“It’s just so much money,” she sighed.

“Half of it is still yours,” I said. “But if you really don’t want it…” I didn’t know what else to say. Maybe she’d change her mind later.

Romeo appeared out of nowhere and said, “I’ll go halvsies with you on your painting of me, C-Man.”

“See?” I said, “Romeo knows his worth.” I gave him a fist bump.

Kamiko stood beside Romeo. She said, “I still can’t believe someone bought that Wonky Kong portrait of Romeo.”

“What?” Romeo scowled, “It’s awesome. And I think whoever bought it got it for a steal at $150,000. I told you someone would pay to have a painting of me.”

Kamiko rolled her eyes. “Wait til they get the portrait into their house and have to stare at you 24/7.”

“You’re just jealous Christos didn’t paint you,” Romeo sneered.

She rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him.

I said to Kamiko, “I’ll paint you for my next show. We’ll dress you up as one of the Adventure Time characters.”

Her eyes lit up, “Wow, Christos, you’d paint me?”

“Sure,” I smiled. “I’d rather paint a friend over some random model.”

Kamiko clapped her hands together, “I totally want to be painted as Fionna from Adventure Time! I’ll make the costume myself! When can we start!”

“We’ll do it over the summer.”

Kamiko gasped. “That would be so totally awesome, Christos!” Her and Romeo wandered back into the crowd while me and Samantha shared a chuckle.

A few minutes later, Russell walked up to us from out of the crowd. “Congratulations, young man,” he said. “It appears you’re doing rather well tonight.”

“Yeah,” I smiled. “Samantha, you remember Russell Merriweather?”

“Totally,” she grinned, shaking his hand. “Nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too, young lady. Have you been keeping this character out of trouble?” He nodded at me.

“Definitely,” she smiled.

“You know,” Russell said, “I bought one of your grandfather’s landscapes.”

“You did?” I asked. “Which one?”

“The one of the valley behind your father’s house at sunrise. I’m always telling Nikolos how much I love the view when I go out there. Since your grandfather decided to paint a picture of it, I thought that would be the next best thing to visiting. I’m hanging it in my downtown office so I can always see it.”

I knew that Brandon had priced that painting at $75,000. “Wow, Russell, that was really generous of you,” I said appreciatively.

“Fiddlesticks.” Russell smiled.

“Fiddlesticks?” I laughed. “Who the fuck says fiddlesticks?”

Samantha giggled at what I’d said.

“I do,” Russell said in his most serious courtroom voice ever, “And if you want to keep your teeth, you won’t make any further issue of it. Are we clear?” He arched an eyebrow, but it only took a second for his face to relax into a big smile.

I shook my head and smiled at him.

“Besides,” Russell said, “Your family has spent plenty of money on me over the years, it was the least I could do.”

“Thanks, man,” I smiled.

"Well, I’ve got to go. Good night, Samantha. Both of you please give my regards to Spiridon and Nikolos,” Russell said before fading into the crowd.

“Russell is so cool,” Samantha said.

“Yup.”

Brandon burst through the crowd a minute later. “It sold! Your portrait of Samantha sold!”

Samantha’s eyes goggled.

So did mine.

“How much?” we both asked.

“One point nine million!” Brandon was beside himself. I’d never seen him lose his cool like this. I wasn’t surprised. A sizable chunk of the money we’d pulled in tonight was his.

Samantha threw her arms around me and planted a huge kiss on my cheek before saying, “Congratulations, Christos!”

A second later, my dad and grandad were pushing through the crowd.

“Congratulations, paidí mou!” my grandad said, leaning over to hug me. “We heard the news.”

“Thanks, Pappoús,” I said.

My dad threw his arms around both of us, “You did it, paidí mou!”

“I couldn’t have done it without you, Bampás,” I said, looking into my father’s eyes. They were brimming with tears. Just like mine.

Brandon grinned while slapping my shoulder vigorously, “A number of the major art magazines have already called. They’re asking to interview you, Christos. You’re going to be the talk of the international art world by tomorrow morning. I told you before, if you ever painted a portrait of Samantha, it would be your Mona Lisa. Now you have it.”

“Mona Lisa?” I chuckled. “You know the Mona Lisa looks like a dude in drag. At least you could’ve said Evening Mood by Bouguereau. The girl in that painting is actually a woman, and she’s beautiful.”

“But that painting isn’t nearly as famous,” Brandon smiled. “Regardless, this portrait of Samantha is going to make your name, Christos. I know it.” Brandon marveled as he gazed at the painting on the wall.

He was entranced by it. I think knowing it sold for so much cash made it that much better in his eyes. I couldn’t blame him. Brandon tore himself away from the painting and said, “Will you be sad to say goodbye to it when the buyer takes possession of it, Christos?”

“Nope.” I smiled down at Samantha, “I get to keep the real thing.”

“I will,” Samantha said. “I love looking at it.” She glanced back at the painting.

“No need to worry, Samantha,” Brandon said.

I frowned, “Why’s that?”

Brandon grinned, “You guys will never guess who the buyer was.”

“Who?” I asked. It couldn’t be Wentworth.

“L.A. M.O.M.A.,” Brandon grinned.

My jaw dropped, “No fucking way.”

“What’s that?” Samantha asked.

“The Los Angeles Museum of Modern Art,” Brandon grinned. “To hang in their permanent collection.” No wonder he was so stoked about selling my painting. This was a huge feather in Charboneau Gallery’s cap.

I said to Samantha, “You know what this means, agápi mou?”

She shook her head.

I grinned, “The whole world is going to see my painting of you.”

Her eyes goggled and she started laughing. “I knew it!”

“What?” I was confused.

“Everyone’s going to see me naked!”

I laughed and so did Brandon.

“No,” I grinned, “everyone’s going to be inspired by your bravery.”

Samantha rolled her eyes, but I leaned down and kissed her passionately anyway. The crowd around us, which was still a bustling mass of men and women in fancy black tie evening wear, started to applaud and hoot.

Me and Samantha continued kissing under the spotlight for a long time in front of everybody.

It was a perfect evening, all the way around.

The only thing still bugging me was whether or not I’d made enough money after giving Brandon his cut to pay back Hunter Blakeley. If I lost his civil suit against me in court I was going to owe him enough cash to fill a bank vault. I noticed Russell hadn’t mentioned the trial when he’d said goodbye tonight. He probably didn’t want to spoil my evening.

Man, why did I have to hit fucking Hunter in the first place? It’s not like I didn’t already know I could kick his ass ten times over.

Oh well.

I’d worry about it tomorrow.

Now it was time to gather everyone up and go celebrate someplace else. There was no way I was letting Hunter Blakeley ruin my perfect evening.

No fucking way.

Besides, what where the chances of running into him tonight?