Page 44 of Captive Ruin

I bite at my lip while she keeps me on hold, wondering if I’m asking too much of her. But she’s back in less than the minute she said.

“There’s a handgun dealer on West 20th with an indoor range, just down from your gallery. Wednesday at two? And I’m going to want explanations.”

Two days. “It’s a date.”

Plenty of time to figure out what to tell her.

Eleven

Amelia

My gallery is in the Hudson end of Chelsea, a good-sized independent unit. My inheritance makes it affordable. Barely. To pay the mortgage, I still need to shift a reasonable amount of art each month.

My name is in a clear, crisp font above the door: Anderson. It’s partly in honor of my parents, who made this possible, and it gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling every time I walk in.

I have a small office at the back, and I fire up my computer and start working through my emails. We’re holding an exhibition a week from Wednesday, and there’s still a lot of work to do. That will be my big seller for this month, hopefully making up for last month’s not-so-good revenue.

Sierra walks in just before nine. She’s both my assistant and my best friend, her admin skills making up for what she doesn’t know about art. She’s also bringing me a latte from my favorite coffee shop.

“Perfect, just what I needed.” I take a sip, sighing in pleasure as I lean back in my chair.

“You’re in early.”

“Yeah, I… couldn’t sleep.” So to speak.

“Worried about the exhibition?”

“No, not really.” I wasn’t, until she said that. “Should I be?”

“Just a lot riding on it.” She gives me one of her sympathetic looks to let me know she’s here for me, while slowly adding to my panic.

“We’ve got it all in hand, right?”

“Oh, yes.” She sets her coffee down on the edge of my desk and ticks off on her fingers. “Three pieces of Michael Amiento’s work with six more to come. Jeanne Quek’s stuff is arriving early next week, and I’m really excited to see them.”

I smile. That was a bit of a win, if I do say so myself. She’s an unknown name, but what she does with metal is genius. “I know they’ll be popular.”

“That’s fifteen, and we have seven from our collection.”

“And the invite list?”

“Ninety-two confirmed so far.” Sierra looks smug. “We’ve got Jordan Fletcher coming from Time Out.”

“No way! That’s great news!” A good review could really help my fledgling gallery find its feet.

“It is, isn’t it? The wine and canapes are booked. So that’s everything, right?”

“Good.” I relax back into my chair, breathing more easily. “I’m going to be out this Wednesday. I’m meeting my sister, but I’ll be in the area if you need me.”

“Oh, wonderful. It’s all in hand here. You deserve a break.”

“So spill it,” Lucy says as I walk up, two days later.

She’s leaning against the wall near the gun range, arms folded, dressed in her usual work skirt suit. Her inheritance hasn’t changed her at all; the money’s in the bank. Partly why Serranto was so interested in her, the bastard.

“Nice to see you too.” I come in for a hug, careful not to wrinkle her.

She returns it warmly then pulls away, narrowing her eyes at me. “I’m waiting.”