activities. Instinctively, I huddled closer to my sister, who shot me a dirty look when I bumped into her three consecutive steps in a row.
As we neared the end of the hall, I could hear music coming from somewhere in the building. May reached the door before I did and opened it for me.
“I don’t want to go in first,” I hissed.
“Stop being such a fucking pussy.” Her hand reached out and grabbed my elbow, practically hurling me into the dark room ahead. Much to my horror, I heard the door close behind me immediately after, with no signs of May having followed me in.
I was about to make a run for it when I heard footsteps approaching. Automatically, my head turned in their direction.
Standing right in front of me was Brady. He was dressed in an all-black suit and tie, perfectly tailored to fit his amazing body.
“What are you doing here?” I nearly choked on my own voice trying to get the words out.
“Making a gesture.” He smiled softly as the lights came up along the walls around us, each one of them highlighting poster sized images, all beautifully framed and matted. I recognized them instantly. They were my paintings. Or rather, pictures of my paintings.
“How did you do this?” I could barely catch my breath as I stared from one print to the next.
“I had a little help,” he grinned, nodding at the door behind me which May had quietly snuck in through. “Come on, I want to show you the whole place before everyone gets here.” He took my hand and began to lead me around a corner.
“What do you mean, everybody gets here? Who’s everybody?”
“Everybody we invited to attend your show. That’s usually how things operate at a gallery.”
We came around the bend and at last I knew exactly where I was. The Mercado Galleria of Art and Photography. I was floored. Some of the most amazing artists of our generation were being shown here.
The entire night was total magic. Between mingling with the crowd of kindred spirits and the fact that so many of them seemed to feel genuinely touched by my work, I was in a permanent state of euphoria. Everything was so surreal I could barely grasp the enormity of what was happening. Not only had Brady returned, but he had given me a gift beyond measure.
Five hours and slightly too much champagne later, May, Brady and I were all headed back home in a stretch limo. May had dozed off the second her head hit the leather seats. When we hit the curb coming out onto the main road, her head popped up again.
“Wait, what about my car?”
“We’ll come and get it in the morning,” Brady assured her. She closed her eyes again and passed out.
Sitting curled up against him, I still couldn’t believe my luck. I felt like Cinderella, only my good fortune had been extended way past midnight.
Driving down Main Street I watched through my window as we passed the Galleria. From the front the building looked nothing like a warehouse. It was impressive with its tall windows and trademark sign.
“How much did you have to pay them to let you put on this event?” I joked.
“Nothing. And I didn’t host you, the gallery did. They came to me after I sent them some samples of your work.” He slid down into the seat and rested his head on mine.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. That’s what I had to go back to LA for. One of my buddies is a pretty accomplished photographer, so he put
As we neared the end of the hall, I could hear music coming from somewhere in the building. May reached the door before I did and opened it for me.
“I don’t want to go in first,” I hissed.
“Stop being such a fucking pussy.” Her hand reached out and grabbed my elbow, practically hurling me into the dark room ahead. Much to my horror, I heard the door close behind me immediately after, with no signs of May having followed me in.
I was about to make a run for it when I heard footsteps approaching. Automatically, my head turned in their direction.
Standing right in front of me was Brady. He was dressed in an all-black suit and tie, perfectly tailored to fit his amazing body.
“What are you doing here?” I nearly choked on my own voice trying to get the words out.
“Making a gesture.” He smiled softly as the lights came up along the walls around us, each one of them highlighting poster sized images, all beautifully framed and matted. I recognized them instantly. They were my paintings. Or rather, pictures of my paintings.
“How did you do this?” I could barely catch my breath as I stared from one print to the next.
“I had a little help,” he grinned, nodding at the door behind me which May had quietly snuck in through. “Come on, I want to show you the whole place before everyone gets here.” He took my hand and began to lead me around a corner.
“What do you mean, everybody gets here? Who’s everybody?”
“Everybody we invited to attend your show. That’s usually how things operate at a gallery.”
We came around the bend and at last I knew exactly where I was. The Mercado Galleria of Art and Photography. I was floored. Some of the most amazing artists of our generation were being shown here.
The entire night was total magic. Between mingling with the crowd of kindred spirits and the fact that so many of them seemed to feel genuinely touched by my work, I was in a permanent state of euphoria. Everything was so surreal I could barely grasp the enormity of what was happening. Not only had Brady returned, but he had given me a gift beyond measure.
Five hours and slightly too much champagne later, May, Brady and I were all headed back home in a stretch limo. May had dozed off the second her head hit the leather seats. When we hit the curb coming out onto the main road, her head popped up again.
“Wait, what about my car?”
“We’ll come and get it in the morning,” Brady assured her. She closed her eyes again and passed out.
Sitting curled up against him, I still couldn’t believe my luck. I felt like Cinderella, only my good fortune had been extended way past midnight.
Driving down Main Street I watched through my window as we passed the Galleria. From the front the building looked nothing like a warehouse. It was impressive with its tall windows and trademark sign.
“How much did you have to pay them to let you put on this event?” I joked.
“Nothing. And I didn’t host you, the gallery did. They came to me after I sent them some samples of your work.” He slid down into the seat and rested his head on mine.
“You’re kidding.”
“I’m not. That’s what I had to go back to LA for. One of my buddies is a pretty accomplished photographer, so he put
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