When I rise from the prayer session, I’m more unsettled than soothed. I curl up on the couch and pick up my tablet, trying not to have expectations despite what Dorian told me about checking my shop.
First, I open my email.
Slowly, I press my fingers over my mouth.
Oh my god.
My inbox is filled with transactions. And there are two other emails—one to gauge my interest about participating in an upcoming art show, and another inviting me to a dinner where I can meet even more of the folks involved in Charleston’s art scene.
I squeal against my fingers, and Screwtape bounds upright onthe couch, glaring as if to say,You’re not going to start with those noises outherenow, are you?
I’ve got to get more packing supplies. I’m going to be wildly busy boxing up all the art for my new patrons. With this money, I’ll be able to give the studio a much-needed facelift, pay my taxes, some of the insurance—
Whoever said money doesn’t buy happiness was lying. Becausenot having to worryabout money is one of the happiest damn feelings in the world.
This is it. My big break. Whether I paint Dorian or not, the introductions have already happened, and so have the sales. Things can only go up from here, right?
With trembling fingers, I find Dorian’s name in my contacts and press the symbol to put him on speaker.
“Hey there.” His low, masculine voice adds another layer to my excitement.
“You were right. My shop has almost sold out!”
“I thought so.” I can hear the smile in his tone. “They loved you.”
“But I’m so weird,” I say, breathless. “And my stuff is weird. I have all these dark, morbid ideas.”
“They’re fresh and interesting. And I don’t know if you do this intentionally, but there are layers to these paintings, Baz. I’m not talking about paint—layers of meaning. They make me want to stand in front of them and stare, and when I look away, they stay with me. I’m a little different after seeing them. That’s the true power of art, isn’t it? To alter the soul?”
I wince as he veers close to the sensitive topic between us. “I suppose it is.” I gnaw the edge of my thumbnail. “I’m going to be very busy tomorrow and the next day, buying supplies and then prepping and packing the new orders. I won’t be able tohang out.”
“I’ll hire some people to do that for you. Make a list of everything you need, and leave instructions for how you want the things packed.”
“I like to do it myself, to make sure the quality is right and the art is safe.”
“I’ll make sure the helpers are experienced and well paid,” says Dorian. “I won’t relinquish any precious days out of my two weeks with you.”
Precious days…he’s only saying that because of the portrait.
“I can’t thank you enough for this, Dorian.”
“Sure you can,” he says smoothly.
“Right.” I hesitate, biting my lips.
“We won’t talk about that yet,” he says. “Go on and make your list. I’ll come by with some people around eleven tomorrow.”
“Okay. See you then.” After ending the call, I leap off the couch and run into my spare room, taking stock of the wrapping, string, boxes, and sealing wax I’ve got on hand. It’s not nearly enough.
I’m going to need more of everything.
13
Dorian
When my call with Baz ends, I realize I’m smiling. Grinning broadly from the sheer pleasure of hearing her enthusiasm, her joy.
I immediately send off a text to Lloyd-Henry.It’s working. I think Baz is going to paint me after all.
