"And my fans and prospective buyers can follow the construction journey, which is part of the artistic experience of the sculpture. They've been part of this journey, of discovering who this person is from day one anyway, so they're invested. It should sell for a pretty decent price."
"How much are you thinking it'll get?" asks Elly.
"I don't know, but maybe several hundred thousand. Hopefully more."
Elly claps her hands like a little kid.
"And...when's the auction close?" asks Ed.
"I'm thinking we should have an exhibition. All the artists that contribute to the gallery can do one installation. Something that makes a statement about what they represent in their art."
"Oh," says Jeanette without her customary enthusiasm. "When are you thinking?"
"In two weeks."
"Two weeks?" says Elly. "We're struggling to keep up as it is."
"We have a rental deadline of just over two weeks. I need to get the mortgage application approved before then, so haul arse now. Thank me later. It's only two weeks."
"Two weeks of all-nighters. People die of sleep deprivation, you know."
Nobody else objects. Nor do they offer anything in the way of support. Instead they look everywhere but at me, and cast intermittent glances at each other.
"What? What is going on with the rest of you? You should be kissing my feet right about now."
Carlos smooths down his moustaches. "When I was in deep cover as a courtesan under Frederik VIII of Denmark, they had the saying 'Better to suck one toe of the king, than risk a whole foot to the backside'. I thought it was a directive at first. It only took one toe-mouthing incident for me to realise it was a metaphor. Needless to say, I did earn a very literal foot to the proverbial. Of course, my Danish is much better these days, so I won't be making that mistake again."
Elly stares at him for a beat, then shifts her gaze to me. "But will you be able to part with him?"
I turn to look at the sculpture. He's nowhere near finished yet, but he already has a large presence in my life. He has since the first letter arrived. The honest answer is, "I don't know," but what I say is, "I have to," then aim for flippancy with, "He's not my giant love doll. Or anything."
"But is he?" asks Elly.
I turn back to the group. Not a single one of them has even cracked a smile over that last exchange. I don't understand it. "You know what? Fuck the lot of yas. I'm going to get the photocopied letters I left in the car."
I slam the door on the way out.
Chapter twenty-eight
Ed
"Balls,"saysJeanetteandstands, hands gripping her hair.
Lutek's face is hidden behind his hands. He peers out at us from between his fingers.
"We're well and truly done for, aren't we?" adds Jeanette.
"What? Why?" says Elly. "How have you all got hang dog looks? This is the magic solution we've been looking for."
I've already started pacing. "It's fraudulent art, Elly. We can't sell fraudulent art. Especially not for ridiculous amounts of money. It's unethical and most crucially, illegal."
"Oh." Elly's eyes are wide and flick between all of us in the room. "Shit. Yeah, I hadn’t thought of that."
"So what do we do?" asks Lutek.
"I'm not sure there's anything we can do, except try and dissuade her," I answer. "The auction's already started."
"We're not going todissuadeher," says Elly. "Didn't you hear her say it's already past two hundred thousand pounds? It has the potential to get way higher than that. She's not going to miss this opportunity if it means she can buy out that jackass."
