Grounded (Up in the Air #3)(84)

Stephan and Javier ended up taking the furlough as well, thanks to the rare opportunity they were getting to open their own bar in one of the strip’s hottest casinos. They had plenty of work ahead of them, but not many people got the funding they did, no questions asked. We were all grateful to James for doing something so life-changing for them.

We went to L.A. the night before the gallery showing, staying at the Cavendish Resort property there, which was conveniently located next door to the Cavendish Gallery.

I got a preview of the gallery that night, and I was floored by the wonders Danika had worked. My paintings were shown at their best, the frames exquisite, the lighting in every room just perfect, the paintings grouped together by color, displayed to complement each other in the best way possible.

Danika gave us a tour of the gallery, every room displaying my paintings. I felt the need to hug the woman when we finished, grateful and in awe of what she’d done with my work.

I felt nervous anxiety course through me at even the thought of the event, but it turned out to be a pleasant evening. I had already determined that I wouldn’t read any of the negative reviews about my work. No one was more critical of my work than I was, and I knew it would just wreak havoc on my creativity to obsess about the negative, so I enjoyed the event for what it was; an evening of meeting new people, and a chance to see some friendly faces.

I wore a dark gray halter dress that I felt flattered my figure, and James wore a matching tux with a light blue tie.

James stayed on my arm for the entire evening, the perfect, attentive escort. And of course, the most expensive arm candy on the face of the earth.

I even sold some paintings, which I’d thought was highly unlikely when I saw how they’d been priced. Some of the larger ones had gone for over fifty thousand dollars. It surprised me so much that I was a little in shock when Danika gave me the news. She catalogued every single painting sold for me, telling me who had purchased what and for how much.

She hugged me, beaming. She had become the biggest cheerleader for my work, and I was so grateful for that. She was a steady kind of woman, and so obviously one of substance, with clout in the art world. Having someone like that back my work with such sincerity was a confidence booster that I needed in a very fundamental way at this stage in my career. James and Stephan were fans of my work, but having a professional supporting my work, someone who wasn’t my best friend or my boyfriend, was a boon that I wouldn’t soon forget.

Some of the much smaller paintings sold for around the ten thousand dollar mark. Danika informed us of this with a disclaimer, “This is only because this is your first show. At the next one your work will earn bigger price tags; I guarantee it. You’ll see numbers at least double or triple what we’re seeing tonight.” This floored me. I had thought that the prices were over the top for this one…

Frankie was there. She had Tristan, and her girlfriend, Estella, in tow, as threatened. I recalled Tristan’s description of Estella as a little Latin fireball, and I knew within moments of meeting Estella that it was apt. She had thick, wavy black hair that fell nearly to her waist, an hourglass body that wouldn’t quit, and a sassy attitude that was fun, flirtatious, and over the top. She and Frankie had visible chemistry, sharing telling looks and comments that could have made even James blush.

Tristan, Frankie, and Estella hit it off with Stephan and Javier, and the five of them spent a lot of the evening talking and laughing, making the entire event more fun.

We observed one of those volatile moments when Danika and Tristan shared the same air, just in passing, and it was as intense as the first time we’d seen it. James and I shared a look when Danika took her stiff, polite leave of him. As much as Danika may have wanted it to be different, there were still strong feelings between those two. But baggage could be a powerful thing, and feelings weren’t always enough.

I had invited my half-brother, Sven and his girlfriend, Adele, and I was flattered and pleased that they were able to make it.

Adele looked like a model, with the right height and build, but not the over the top beautiful kind. She was no Lana. She had the sort of nondescript good looks that probably got her a lot of work, since it made her more versatile. Her hair was light brown, hanging straight to her shoulders, her eyes a nice, soft brown.

She had a sweet smile, and she was very present, like she was happy to be just where she was. I liked her. When Sven had said he was dating a model, I had pictured the vacant-eyed, narcissistic type, and Adele far exceeded my expectations, unfair as they may have been.

Blake and company weren’t shadowing my every step, since the guest list was very exclusive, and they were guarding the entrances and exits doggedly. I thought it was nice to be able to go to the bathroom without having a shadow, although James did close to the same thing, walking me down the hallway to the gallery’s restroom, and waiting for me diligently in the nearest showing room.

I was finishing when the bathroom door opened and closed, then opened again.

“Now you’re following me?” an agitated female voice asked.

I recognized it instantly as Danika.

“If that’s the only way you’ll talk to me, then yes,” a man answered.

I recognized that deep, gravelly voice, as well. It was Tristan.

“We have nothing to talk abo—“ Danika began.

“I still think about you every single day,” Tristan interrupted harshly. “Let’s talk about that.”