A Different Blue(141)



” My head shot up, finding the “him” she referred to standing in front of the weeping visage

that welcomed new arrivals to the gallery. Wilson looked pressed and proper in his black tux.

Tall, handsome, his hair slicked back, barely a wave in sight. I wished I could run my fingers

through it and tousle it into floppy curls. I turned away immediately. He had seen Tiffa wave

and had been in the act of raising his hand in response when he saw me at her side. His hand

froze mid-wave.

“And he brought that naff cow with him,” Tiffa moaned. “What is with my little brother? His

taste in women is ghastly. Well, now we know what he did with the other ticket. He's positively

dead from the neck up.” She muttered the last part under her breath. I wasn't sure what she

referred to. Pamela wasn't exactly a cow. Or a dog. Or anything remotely unattractive, as much

as I wished she were.

“I'm leaving now, Tiffa. Have I schmoozed and schlepped enough?” I said brightly, already

pulling away.

“No! Blue! What in the world is going on with you and my silly brother? This is your big night!



“And it's been amazing. But I don't want to talk to Wilson right now. We had a pretty tense

moment right before I came tonight. I am not ready to be anywhere near him.”

“Miss Echohawk!” Mr. Wayne approached from my right, a small Asian man walking beside him.

“Miss Echohawk,” Mr. Wayne extended his hand in introduction, “this is Mr. Yin Chen.” The

little man bowed slightly. “He is intrigued by your work. He begged for an introduction.”

Next to me, Tiffa was practically vibrating. This must be someone important. What was his name?

I suddenly felt like the top of my head was going to pop off and float away like a helium

balloon. Should I bow too? Tiffa did. So I copied her.

“Nice to meet you,” I murmured, clueless.

“Mr. Chen is especially interested in the one you've titled 'Cello,'” Mr. Wayne smiled down at

Mr. Chen indulgently.

[page]Mr. Chen! That was it. Not too hard to remember. From the corner of my eye, I saw Wilson

approaching with Pamela on his arm. I stepped on Tiffa's foot, probably more viciously than was

warranted. Tiffa gasped slightly and moved to engage Mr. Chang(?) in conversation. I turned to

Mr. Wayne, and he dipped his head discreetly and murmured softly in my ear, pulling me aside,

which was fine with me as it moved me away from Wilson.

“Mr. Chen (Chen!) is a Bei Jing mogul – one of the whales we like to take very good care of

whenever he's in town. He fancies himself quite the art oficianado. If he likes your work and

thinks you are the next big thing, he will move heaven and earth to buy up as many pieces as he

can.”

“Will he buy them all?” I asked, trying not to squeak like a child.

“Unfortunately for Mr. Chen, they have all sold.” Mr. Wayne smiled down at me.

“All of them!” I whispered, stunned.

“Yes. All of them.”





Wilson's tuxedo jacket was flung over the railing and his tie was loose, hanging in a tired

curl. His top few buttons were undone, and he was slumped on the stairs, elbows on his knees,

hands clasped in front of him. I watched him through the glass of the front door for a moment,

wondering what he could say that would make me forgive him. He had revealed too much, and I

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