“I’m not,” I say, meaning it. “I don’t know where that came from. I think maybe I’m just nervous.”
“Hey, it’s cool. You don’t have to explain.”
Her eyes flick to Theo, still right at home on her knee. Neither she nor Adrian have ever asked about his father, a fact I’m very grateful for.
Adrian returns, moving his hands wide as if to clap them together. But he stops before his palms collide, smiling at Theo. He mime-claps instead. “Showtime. Ava, with me. Cassie, take notes on any calls from artists or other dealers. If you think it’s important, text me and I’ll come back here to deal with it myself. And most importantly…” Adrian walks over, and ever so gently reaches down and takes Theo’s hand. “Take care of the little man.”
“You got it, chief.”
After giving Theo a kiss, Adrian and I leave the back room. Other dealers and gallery owners file out with us, all of them doing their own version of our game plan, all with their own agendas.
The large hall is filling up now, serving staff circulating with silver trays of champagne and non-alcoholic alternatives. I go for the alternative, wanting to keep a cool head. Plus, I get worried about breast milk. Apparently, you can have a few small glasses, and it doesn’t matter, but still…
“Nothing to do now but schmooze,” Adrian says. He nods to a group of high-society women, glittering dresses, stylish bangs. “I’ll take those. I recognize Cecilia from a party a few months ago. Would you mind taking him?” He gestures to a man leaning against the wall at the edge of the room.
“Sure,” I murmur. “Who is…”
Adrian disappears before I can finish the question.
Okay, I’m on my own.
The man is probably in his mid-twenties, wearing flashy gold rings on three out of five fingers on each hand, lazily looking around like he’s too good for this place. I swallow a ball of nerves, put on my best customer-service face, and walk over.
“Hi, I hope I’m not disturbing you,” I say.
He hears me. I see him react subtly, but he doesn’t look at me right away. Across the room, the group of ladies laugh loudly at something Adrian says.
Finally, the man kicks from the wall and turns. “You’re with Kovacs, yeah?”
“That’s right,” I say. “I’m Ava Ward. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure?”
“Ruthless bastard, your boss,” he replies. “I’m Hank, if you can believe it. People never think a man like me would have a name like Hank. But there it is. Hank Mayweather. Like the boxer. Except I can’t fight.”
He offers me his hand.
“Oh, I’m sure you can fight,” I say, sounding inane even to myself.
He holds my hand for a beat too long. I don’t like it, but unfortunately, it’s part of the job. “Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know. Stupid. I’m stupid.”
I amnotstupid, but I’m saying it anyway.
Get it together.
He lets go of my hand. “Do you know who I am?”
I almost say,Hank?But then I quickly stop myself. I think fast. His tone implies that I should know. Maybe that’s why Adrian didn’t tell me; he assumed I did too.
“How could I not know one of the most prestigious collectors in the city?” I say.
Hank grins, but there’s a look in his eyes, knowing.
I take a leap. “Though I know you like to keep a low profile.”
He nods slowly. “But it seems my reputation precedes me.”
“And you’re telling me that’s entirely unintentional?” I say, offering a smile.
