I expect he’s starving now, considering I haven’t been there to fill the fridge.
I’m such a bitch sometimes.
“And you’re only noticing now,” he answers with a pout.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Yeah, so I see.” His eyes flick to the sucking bite on my neck.
I thought I’d covered it with concealer.Dammit, Raif. I am so going to give you a payback hickey when I see you next.
I wonder if he’d be into that. Biting, I mean. I rouse myself from that thought. Time for a change of topic.
“Did she buy anything?”
“Vinny?” Tod’s body does this thing, which is the equivalent of slapping himself on the head. “Ah, yeah. She bought the diptych hanging on the little wall in the back room.”
“Pieces in a Petrie Dish?”
He nods. “I have the address for delivery. She’s an interior designer for a property developer.”
“Oh cool.”
“She’s also going to think about buyingArt, Ethos, and Easter Eggs.”
“Yours, right?” The piece that looks like a totem pole made from ugly egg cups, I think.
Another nod. “Yeah. Exciting, right?”
“Absolutely is.”
“Is it me, or is business really picking up?”
“It’s not you.” But it is strange. We’ve had a steady flow of foot traffic this week, and the website hits have tripled. Also, over the past two days, we’ve had some really decent sales. Via some unusual buyers. People who seem to be more interested in buying by price rather than appeal.
Art isn’t exactly flying off the shelves, but we’re doing all right.
“It’s probably the sunshine,” I say. “It makes everyone happy.”
“Happy people buy art?”
“Who knows,” I say with a small shrug. “But we’re happy when people buy art, right? Because it keeps the wolves from the doors. And Whit off my back. “If it keeps going well, you’ll be able to pay rent soon.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your fifty percent.” He gets fifty and the gallery gets fifty, which is pretty standard for in-house sales.
“No, I get ten percent commission if I’m the salesperson.”
Which is why he directs customers to his stuff first.
“It’s five percent. You know it is,” I add when he looks as though he might argue. “Anyway, if your exhibition goes well next week, you might be on the way to getting your own place.”
“You mean I can’t stay with you?” He looks like a toddler whose ice cream just fell off the cone.
“I think Raif might not be so keen on that idea of you as a roommate.”
“No, your place, I mean. Where I live now.”
