Marin didn’t react to her touch and kept his tentacle at my lower back. “You may only be the curational assistant, but really you were the head of this whole operation. Everyone knows that.”
DeeDee sighed dramatically. “Well, not the people all the way up. You know how these things work.”
“I believe you’re on your way to your own gallery someday.” Marin’s low voice was soft, rather than polite. He was rooting for her.
“And you’ll have your paintings on display soon enough.” DeeDee patted his arm.What was with all the touching?
Marin snorted. “I doubt that.”
“What? Why? You’re so talented.” I looked over Marin’s front at DeeDee. “Have you seen his art?”
“Only a few pieces of his landscapes, but I absolutely agree with you, Kert. I showed them to Ms. Mina but—” She shook her head. “Marin helped this gallery a lot and I’ll make sure it won’t be forgotten.” She adjusted a small table with an empty vase that had paint styled as blood all over it and a small plaque underneath. “The fundraiser we did last year secured the gallery’s future, but thanks to Marin donating his work, we were able to open this month. He did it three times faster than any crew that quoted me for the job, and they wanted a lot of dough.”
“Now I can say my work is in a gallery.” Marin smirked, but I recognized the hurt twitch on his face.
“It is. Look up, Kert.” She pointed to where the salmon paint met the white cut-off by the ceiling. Tiny poppy flowers decorated the line and below it, the patter of them melted into the shade of the paint. “Every room is a different color and Marin added details throughout to match the themes of the rooms. The blue room has sea motifs, and the green one is like a meadow.”
“That’s incredible.” I touched the wall, admiring the texture. “The discreet detailing is like tasteful wallpaper.”
“He did the crown molding too.” DeeDee pointed up. “Carved it by hand.”
“Shut up, DeeDee. He’s a sculptor, I don’t want him looking too closely.” Marin bumped me with his hip.
“Is he? Kert was it?” She craned her neck from behind Marin to look at me with narrowed eyes. Was it possible she knew my work? Nah, no way.
“My sight is fantastic, thank you very much, and I spy plenty of details executed to perfection.” I snapped my fingers.
“Focus on the art, guys.” Marin elbowed me.
“We are.” I looped my arm over his tentacle and leveled DeeDee with a pointed look.Hands off, blondie.
“Indeed.” The slight nod she gave me added points to my opinion of her. Sure, she walked close to Marin, but she loved his art. “This is what we call The Winter Room, and for the first exhibition we have paintings and sculptures depicting different holidays and celebrations.” She waved a hand, indicating the mixed material wreath with pagan symbols on it. Her watch vibrated and she jumped, looking back. “I have to go. Someone has arrived. Take your time, but please come to the main room for the speech.”
“We will,” Marin said, then turned to me. “What do you think of the exhibit?”
I approached a sculpture of a chicken fighting with a turkey, both wearing tiny boxing gloves. “This one is interesting.”
Marin snorted behind me. “You don’t have to be artistically polite. No one can hear you.”
I sighed and mouthedwhat the fuck. “Most of these are great, but even after years dealing with art, I don’t fucking get it sometimes.”
Marin raised a knowing eyebrow at me and I swatted him with my tail. “Yeah, I know we’re not meant to.”
“Nope, we’re not. You know as well as I do that each art can have millions of interpretations that can change over time too, no matter what the artist meant. And some are very clear with their meaning.” He scrunched his nose and pointed at the turkey. “It’s a North American thing.”
Marin moved on, stopping to look up at a mistletoe piece with several sets of bloody lips with fangs on them hanging from it. “For some, it’s the passion that counts.” He pointed at thelips with an upnod. “For others, beauty is in the details and precision. For me, Art is meant to evoke feelings.”
My heart leaped at the image of Marin wrapping his tentacles around me, then kissing me slow and soft under the mistletoe. I took a step towards him. His profile, with its slightly large nose, reminded me of Greek marble statues from centuries back. If given a chance, I’d get lost in this man. I could spend hours tracing the clear line of his jaw with my fingers or tongue, nuzzling his neck, or driving my fingers through his black and purple hair.
Heat traveled to my cheeks, but I knew my crimson complexion would save me from making my thoughts clear.
Marin glanced at me, then turned his gaze away. “We should join everyone for the tour.”
I stifled a sigh, reaching for his tentacle instead. “True.”
On our way back, I stopped by an installation. “I like this.” I pointed to the abstract figure with a strong body with feminine facial features half-covered by long, flowy hair. Her arms were cut away from the body and connected with copper wires, making them inhumanly long. Each hand was holding something else, from a dirty plate, a band-air, to a condom.
“It portrays women doing so much for society that they’d need many hands to fulfill the roles still expected of them.” Marin slid his hands into the pockets of his chinos and tilted his head.
