People started to arrive then, and we were swept away in different directions. Me to greet the select group of invite-only guests. Nicky’s circles smelled like money, both old and new. Some were actually very nice people. Some were fake as hell. Regardless, I was the proper show pony. When people asked me about my work, I tried to put it back on them, “What do you see? What does it make you think of?” I’d found that most people preferred talking about their own interpretation anyway, so it wasn’t too hard.
I kept glancing toward the door, hoping to see Andre stride through in his T-shirt and jeans, but every time, my gaze came back empty. I checked my phone—no texts or missed calls. I thought about texting him, but I didn’t want to guilt him into coming and maybe he was at work anyway.
About two hours into it, things started to wind down. The bulk of the guests had been properly schmoozed and even Melissa’s smile had dimmed somewhat. Nicky slapped me on the back and congratulated me on a job well done.
“I’m going to make a shit-ton of money off you, kid,” he said gleefully, not bothering to hide his bottom line. I smiled politely and remembered Van Laar’s crooked witch finger pointing at me.
“I didn’t see Van Laar here tonight.”
“No, he doesn’t do this sort of thing, but he has requested a private showing. Would you like to come?”
“I don’t know.” That dude made me nervous as hell. “I’ll get back to you.”
“Perhaps you can bring your muse.” Nicky looked up. “Ah, here he is now.”
Andre. I turned and my eyes found him. He wore the suit from our visit to Van Laar’s house, which fit him exceptionally well. I’d returned it to him, along with some of his other clothes. He glanced around at the dwindling crowd and said, “Sorry I’m late. Work.”
“I’m so glad you came.” I gave him our usual hug-that-was-more-than-a-hug.
“As am I,” Nicky said with an enterprising grin.
“Are you closing up?” Andre asked.
“No, take as long as you want,” I said. “You want a drink?”
“Yeah, okay.” He gave me his drink order, and I took my time ordering it from the bar. I didn’t know if he wanted me at his side while he looked at the paintings, or if he preferred to do it privately. I was also worried about his reaction. It was never easy seeing yourself on display, interpreted through another person’s lens. Like a carnival mirror, it was a myopic view of oneself.
I joined him in front of the cactus painting. He had a huge smile on his face. “Is it big enough?” I asked.
“Just about.” His smile grew, and he hid his face, embarrassed.
“I know it’s not every day you get to see your junk on display.” And then in a more serious tone, I said, “I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“No, it’s cool. Just… wow.” He spread his hands wide like he was bracing up something large. “I love it. I love all of them. There’re so cool, Martin. You’re so talented. Incredible.” He made his way over to the last one in the series, my self-portrait, which Nicky had mounted in an entryway, so that you could see right though it into the other room.
“Oh,” he said. His brow furrowed, and he placed his thumb to his chin.
“It’s a little dramatic.” I didn’t want him to feel bad or anything.
“No, I get it.” His eyebrows lifted. “It’s just, seeing it….” He swallowed. “I didn’t realize….”
“You don’t have to say anything.” In fact, I’d prefer if he didn’t. It was too personal. I felt too exposed, even in front of him.
“Yeah. Okay,” he said gently. “Can you give me a minute?”
“Yeah, sure.” I went back to the bar and finished my drink there. The last of the stragglers left. Melissa said her good-byes and Nicky too, saying Vivie would lock up when we were ready to go. Ten minutes passed, and Andre was still studying the painting. I went to the bathroom and when I came back, he was gone.
“Fuck,” I said out loud.
“He told me to tell you he’d be waiting outside,” Vivie said without looking up from her device.
“Thanks.”
I ran outdoors and found him leaned against the building, in the shadows, smoking a joint. He offered it to me and I took a hit, feeling dizzy and breathless.
“I shouldn’t have run off,” he said after a minute. It took me a second to realize he meant earlier that summer and not just then. “I’m sorry if I hurt you.”
“I forgave you a long time ago.”
