As expected, Jenny had invited more people than she’d promised. Around twenty well-dressed guests wandered around the studio, chatting among themselves or inquiring about the various pieces on display. We had lit scented candles around the studio, their flames creating dancing shadows on the walls. We also had jazz music playing in the background because Jenny claimed it was what sophisticated people listened to, or at least pretended to.
It was a good sign when the guests ignored my jewelry and focused on the sculptures instead, asking about my methods, inspirations, and choice of materials. I wasn’t used to discussing my work with strangers, especially not with strangers who knew their craft. After stumbling over my own words at the start, I grew more confident, almost like remembering a language I hadn’t used in a long time.
When Hayden walked in, I stopped mid-sentence. He wore a black blazer and dress pants that sat nicely on his frame. He was letting his stubble grow out these days, looking even manlier than usual. He seemed self-conscious as he gazed around.
“Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
“The place looks great,” Hayden said when I reached him. “Even smells less like a dorm room.”
“Don't get used to it. You look very handsome.”
“Yeah? Not too much?”
“You can take something off if you prefer.”
He leaned in close to my ear. “Is that a dare, Joe?”
The way he lowered his voice sent a shiver through me. “Not a dare. Let’s get you something to eat.”
“Wait. People are watching us.”
I glanced around, noticing the curious stares.
He whispered, “Since we have their attention…”
I shook my head. “Don’t—”
He kissed me, making me lean back with his arms around my back. People cheered while Jenny called, “Told you there’d be entertainment!”
“You’re hopeless,” I said once he let me go, my face warm.
He patted my ass. “Go back to charming your guests. I’ll walk around.”
True to his word, Hayden didn’t need me to hold his hand. He mingled naturally and struck up conversations with ease, helping me sell one of my most expensive sculptures.
Toward the end of the evening, I noticed an older man standing alone at the side of the room, massaging his chin as hewatched one of my sculptures intently. I didn’t want to bother him, but I was curious.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
He glanced at me and nodded. “Yes, of course. Thank you for inviting me.” He kept observing the sculpture. It was a figure of a man stretched backward, his arms transforming into two waterfalls that merged into one. It had taken me forever to complete it, mostly because sculpting water was exhausting.
“How did you name it?” he asked.
“I don’t like to name my work; it feels limiting.”
“I never thought of it like that. This is truly a wonderful piece. I’ll buy it, of course—just name your price.”
“Wow. Thank you!”
“I am curious, though. Your work reminds me of other pieces I’ve seen at an acquaintance’s house. Did you make a bronze sculpture of a man with one angel wing?”
I knew what he was talking about. “Yes. I sold it a few months ago to an anonymous client. He buys a lot of my work.”
The man nodded, seemingly proud of himself for making the connection. “It makes perfect sense. Eliot always had an eye for fresh talent. You should be proud of yourself.”
*
I somehow survived the rest of the evening. When Hayden and I were finally alone, I told him what I’d discovered. We sat on the couch in the middle of the studio, jazz music still playing in the background. I turned on my laptop so we could go overevery email Eliot had anonymously sent me since we started corresponding eight years ago.
