“Do you have a suit?” Zack asked.
“Yeah… my parents bought me one for my high school graduation,” I told him.
“Excellent, go with that then.”
“Yeah?”
“White shirt, open collar… that should do the trick.”
I got dressed, and then Zack and I headed to the gallery in his car. We were early so the exhibition hadn’t yet been opened, but I walked in with Zack right behind me. I had to admit; all those postponements had worked in Gordon’s favor because the gallery looked fantastic. It actually looked classy, and the fact that I had my work displayed gave me a little nudge of pride.
“Hey, I think I see your name in that corner,” Zack said.
We walked to the left of the gallery and came to my display area. I had five paintings to view, and they were all very different in terms of subject matter, but the style was similar and brought the small collection together. The largest painting there was the one I had swapped in at the last minute… it was the canvas of Zoey.
?
?Damn that’s good,” Zack said.
“You think?”
“If she comes tonight, I think she’ll love it,” Zack nodded.
I took a deep breath. “I hope she does.”
“Don’t think about it,” Zack advised me. “Concentrate on wooing the people that come here tonight. You need to sell your paintings, and you won’t be able to do that if your mind is on Zoey.”
“My mind is always on Zoey,” I said. “But you’re right. I’ve got to focus tonight.”
“Whoa…”
“What?” I asked.
“Did you check out the prices on these pieces?” Zack asked.
I glanced at the tiny little price stickers next to each piece and raised my eyebrows in shock. “Fucking hell.”
“Good thing you dressed up tonight.”
“I’m going to go talk to Gordon,” I said.
I went to the back to his office and found him sitting proudly behind his desk. He was dressed head to toe in a white suit, and he looked to me like a caricature of a mafia boss.
“There you are,” Gordon said before I had a chance to open my mouth. “And you dressed up. Good boy. I’ve invited quite a few rich and important people in the art community so be sure to be as charming as you can. Oh… and try and slip in the fact that you did jail time.”
“What?”
“It’ll make your work more interesting… and it lends itself to the whole tortured artist bit.”
I rolled my eyes. “I never actually did jail time.”
“I’m not telling you to be honest; I’m telling you to sell yourself… and in turn your paintings.”
“Speaking of my paintings,” I said. “Don’t you think you’ve marked them a little high?”
“Uh… no,” Gordon replied shortly.
“While I’m flattered that you think they might actually sell for that amount… I mean, come on, Gordon… five thousand dollars for the ‘Heroes’?”