The Perfect Marriage(32)

“Okay, thanks for telling me,” Owen said. Then he scooped a spoonful of sugary cereal.



James still wasn’t sure that he had convinced Owen that everything between him and Allison was on the up-and-up when his phone rang. Speak of the devil—it was Allison.

He looked at Owen, still eating his Cap’n Crunch.

“You’re going to really love me now,” Allison said.

James mouthed to Owen, “Work.” Then he began making his way into the kitchen for some privacy. “Why am I really going to love you now, Allison?” he said into the phone.

“Because I’ve got the perfect buyer for the Pollocks. The guy’s been my client for about ten years. When I told him that I could get him some original Pollock sketches with paint splatter, he said, and I quote, ‘I don’t care about the price.’ And get this, I told him that you’re asking a million per, and that still didn’t spook him. When we meet, I’ll counter at eight hundred grand, and then we’ll shake hands at nine.”

That was the way the art world worked. It was the Wild West. Every broker was out for him-or herself, and the clients had no clue. It wasn’t like your broker was your lawyer, with a fiduciary duty to represent your best interests. It was more akin to a real estate transaction. There might be brokers on both sides, but they were loyal only to the deal.

Allison got paid a percentage of the purchase price from the buyer, and James took a percentage from the seller. Or in his case, half of Reid’s percentage. The higher the price, the more found its way to them.

Given that incentive structure, brokers never cared about fairness. Their first duty was to close the deal. Their second duty was to do it at the highest price possible. There was no third duty.

“He wants to meet today,” she said. “Just tell me when and where.”

“How about four at my office?”

“Perfect. I actually think we can run the table with this guy. The remaining three in one deal. I’ll tell him that the more he owns, the more each piece is worth. Kind of like how having a monopoly increases the value of each property.”

James thought the analogy fitting. Who wouldn’t be convinced to buy millions of dollars of art based on the logic of a board game?



Reid arrived at James’s office at a quarter to four. Despite the fact that he was about to be a million dollars richer, he was hopping mad.

“When did you and Allison arrange to sell my Pollocks?”

James smiled at the implicit accusation.

The reaction made Reid angrier by confirming that he was on the right track. James was screwing him over.

“Last night. We had dinner, and she told me she might have this other buyer. She called me this morning and said her guy wants all three of them today, and is willing to pay nine hundred per. The first thing I did after hearing that was to call you. So, unless you have an objection to making some serious money, I don’t see the problem.”

“The problem is you don’t fucking meet with her behind my back to discuss my deal—a deal that you’re only in because of my good graces. That’s the fucking problem, James.”

“I’m sorry. She wanted to see me alone.”

“Oh, she wanted to. Makes it easier to fuck her, I assume.”

“Let’s keep our eye on the ball, shall we? I thought you were in this to make some money. Not to get laid. And not to keep tabs on my love life. So stop worrying about whether I’m fucking Allison, and start thinking about how you’re going to spend the money we’re going to earn on this deal.”

“I don’t care who you fuck. I care if the two of you are going to fuck me.”

That’s when the buzzer sounded. Allison was there.

“Take a deep breath, Reid. No one is fucking you. But if you want to turn away three million dollars because you’re jealous, just say the word and I’ll send them away.”

Reid wasn’t one to cut off his nose to spite his face. Especially when money was on the line. A lot of money.

Still, he didn’t like the way this was going.

And then things only got worse when Allison arrived. She was alone.

“My client couldn’t get out of DC,” she said. “His instructions are for me to look at the merchandise. If I give the okay, he wants me to deliver them to him in DC this evening. As soon as I get there, he’ll make payment in cash to me.”

“No fucking way,” Reid said. “You think I’m going to trust you with three Pollocks? Not to mention nearly three million dollars in cash after you sell them?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But I wasn’t proposing doing it alone. James can come. In fact, I want him there.”

“No. They’re mine. I brought James into this. I’ll go with you.”

“No offense, Reid, but I’m not doing that. I trust James, and I don’t know you. I’m not going to be alone with some guy I don’t know with a suitcase filled with cash. I’m sorry, I just don’t feel safe doing that.”

Reid did not like this. Not one bit.

He was getting that hinky feeling again. In spades.



“Jesus, James, really? Why can’t Reid go?” Jessica said.

“I suggested that. She said she knows me, not Reid. I’d rather not go either. But remember why I’m going, okay? If all goes well, I’ll be coming back with enough money to pay for the rest of Owen’s treatment.”