I stood there a second, staring through the glass of the closed door, watching her shadow move across the studio as she killed the last of the lights.
I tossed my keys up, caught them on the way down, and headed for my truck.
“Yeah,” I muttered with a smile. “We’re totally friends.”
6
Sage
I pressed back a step, staring at the charcoal drawing. My fingers twitched on their own accord, as if they sensed the imperfections I spotted and wanted to smooth them out before anyone noticed. Not that I was in danger of that happening any time soon. People drifted past, glasses in hand, far more interested in literally every other piece of art in this place.
“Maybe it’s pretentious,” I said, throwing furtive glances this way and that while Ramona gawked straight ahead. “Me standing in front of my own work like this.”
“It’s a fucking masterpiece, so you’d be excused.” She tore her gaze from her own likeness to flash me a wide grin, her perfect, winged eyeliner finishing off thefemme fatalelook she was going for. A look started by the red mini dress, ripped fishnets, and platform boots. “Quit freaking out, and take my word for it. This portrait is gonna get the attention it deserves.”
“You’re pretty invested for someone who’s used to getting her fifteen seconds of fame at least twice a week at Icy Veins gigs.”
Her grin only widened. “There’s no such thing as too much attention. Not in my world. Not ever. This? Someone’s buying it tonight. I can feel it in my left tit.”
“Yeah, right.” I scoffed, daring myself to have one more look at it. I didn’t hate it. But that was neither here nor there.
“Maybe a stinking rich old guy,” Ramona went on as if I’d said nothing. “He’ll hang it in his living room, so all his rich old friends can get jealous whenever they visit. It’ll fast become his most prized, most valuable possession, and he’ll probably leave it to his ungrateful bastard grandson in his will.”
“Did you take something before coming here?”
“But before the estate’s settled, it’ll disappear in some elaborate heist that makes international news. Never to be seen again. So much time will pass that it’ll become this charcoal myth only talked about in hushed tones over vintage single malt whiskey.”
“Please stop.”
But Ramona was on a roll, and I knew there’d be no stopping her until the roll came to a stop by itself.
“Until centuries later,” she said, eyes glinting with childlike marvel. “when my great-great-great-great-great— however many greats-granddaughter, and namesake, stumbles onto it in her aristocrat in-laws’ walk-in safe and balance is once again restored.”
I stared at her, trying not to laugh. “Or nobody buys it, and I have to carry it home on my back in a public walk of shame to confirm that I, in fact, have no artistic talent whatsoever.”
Ramona’s eyes held mine for a beat. “Jesus. We need to drink.”
Before I could argue, she grabbed my wrist, yanking me through the clusters of guests. Conversations collided in our wake, glasses chimed, the floor slick under my heels. I stumbled along, avoiding direct eye contact with anyone, while Ramona—chaos incarnate—led the way to the bar.
“Two of your finest,” she said, and didn’t flinch when the bartender silently pointed to the array of champagne glasses right in front of her. She plucked two from the lot, and handed one of them to me. “Drinks are on me.”
“They’re free.”
“Even better.” She flashed a wink, immediately turning to scan the room from this different angle.
I held onto my glass at the stem, taking a first tentative sip before allowing myself the same privilege. The crowd pressed around us, moving in small loops, voices running over each other. I caught sight of Troy as he got pulled into yet another conversation.
“We’ve been here for an hour, and that asshole hasn’t said ‘hi’ yet.” I motioned in his direction with a not-so-subtle thrust of my chin.
Ramona rolled her eyes. “You know how he gets at these things. Finally having an outlet for all that self-importance. Want me to beat him up?”
“Maybe later.” I shrugged, and took a bigger sip, the bubbles fizzing over my tongue and going straight to my head where it mixed deliciously with the instant regret of having skipped dinner.
“You think you looked pretentious? Check them out.” Ramona nodded toward a pair of impeccably dressed men hovering at the wall of abstract paintings. “So desperate to be part of the in-crowd but all they are is boring. And corrupt. I’m sure they’re those collectors who do shady deals on the black market.”
I stifled a laugh, but was enjoying her imagination way too much to make her stop.
“Tell me more,” I said, trying to ignore the lonely charcoal portrait that hadn’t caused a single other person to stop and stare. “What about him? Over by the watercolor landscape.”
