Chapter 15
Dawn walked across the gallery toward her assistant, Kevin, while quickly scanning her messages on her iPhone.
“Just arrived in SC,” Stephanie’s message read. She had sent it to all her sisters more than an hour ago. “Staying @ shitty no-tell motel. Detective is a real ass! Will update you later.”
Dawn shook her head and laughed at her sister. Well, at least she got safely to South Carolina, Dawn thought, though she also wondered what had happened to make Stephanie want to jump the detective’s bones a few days ago, and now call him a “real ass.” She was sure she’d get the details when Stephanie returned from her trip.
Dawn glanced up at Kevin expectantly and tucked her phone into the pocket of her flared skirt. “So how’s everything going? Better I hope.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Kevin muttered before turning to face her, “but I think everything is under control.”
Dawn patted him on his shoulder. “Thank God!”
They had to put out a few fires—one, literally—before tonight’s exhibition opening. In addition to a painting falling off the wall, a brief power outage thanks to a blown circuit breaker, and tonight’s featured artist getting stranded in traffic, one of the placards had caught fire on the candlelit buffet table where they were serving wine and cheese. A fast-thinking waiter had managed to grab an ice pitcher and put out the blaze before the entire tablecloth caught aflame.
Thank goodness, no one was the wiser of those little catastrophes . . . well, no one except a few patrons who wrinkled their noses at the lingering burnt smell near the buffet table.
Hopefully, they’ll just think it’s the Limburger cheese, Dawn thought flippantly.
Now people were milling about the gallery, admiring the Japanese anime-inspired artwork on display. The gallery had even made a few sales so far.
“Everyone’s in awe, Dawn,” Percy said as he strolled toward her and Kevin. “You did a wonderful job, darling.”
“Thanks, but I can’t take the credit. Kevin handled most of the logistics tonight,” she said proudly, patting her assistant on the shoulder again. “And the artist painted the artwork. I’m just standing back and enjoying everything tonight.”
“Nevertheless, you’ve all done well.” Percy wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Darling, can I speak with you privately for a second? You don’t mind, do you, Kevin?”
Dawn’s smile disappeared. Oh, hell, what now?
Kevin hesitated then nodded. “Umm, sure . . . yeah. No problem. I’ll let you know if anything comes up, Dawn.”
“Thanks, Kev,” Dawn mumbled.
She and Percy then began to walk across the room. Percy gave a polite nod in greeting to a couple he passed before returning his attention to Dawn.
“So how was your trip to New York a few days ago?” Percy asked, squeezing her shoulder.
“Good. Good,” Dawn answered breezily.
She knew he was fishing. He had been raving about Razor’s work since he saw that article in the Times almost two weeks ago. He was probably eager to hear about whether she had won over Razor and gotten him to agree to show his pieces in Templeton Gallery. She was surprised Percy hadn’t asked sooner.
“So you met you know who?” Percy asked.
“Yes, I did,” she replied.
“And you asked him you know what?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And what did he say?”
“Not much,” she answered honestly, sipping from her glass. “He didn’t say yes. He didn’t say no. I told him before he turned down my offer to think about it for awhile.”
“Awhile?” Percy exclaimed, dropping his arm from around her shoulder. He stared at her, aghast. “Darling, ‘awhile’ could be a very long time! I’d like to have him in my gallery before the next decade! Why on earth didn’t you give him a more concrete time period to respond?”
Dawn shook her head. “Percy, I couldn’t exactly play hardball with him. You read yourself how every gallery in New York wants to show his work. He’s the belle of the ball, and we’re one of plenty standing around trying to get a dance with him. But don’t worry. He’ll get back to us before the next decade. Trust me. We’ll hear from him soon.”
“How . . . How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m a woman who knows when a guy is going to call, and when he isn’t? I’m not an optimist. I’m a realist. And Razor is going to call.”
Percy continued to regard her with an incredulous gaze. “Well, I hope for the gallery’s sake . . . for your sake, you’re right, Dawn. I’d hate to be disappointed.”
He then turned and scanned the room. His face brightened when he noticed someone. “Charles, hello! I didn’t expect to see you here tonight!” he shouted before abruptly walking off.
When he disappeared from view, Dawn sipped from her glass and sucked her teeth.
She really wished Percy would leave her alone and let her do her work. She didn’t need him hanging over her like this. She did a damn good job in running this gallery, and even if the great and wonderful Razor decided to show his art somewhere else, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.
After she finished the last of her wine, she set it aside on a nearby table. She then turned to survey the room and raised her eyebrows in surprise when she spotted a familiar handsome face in the crowd.
Well, speak of the devil! He responded sooner than I thought. Take that, Sasha and Percy!
She strolled across the gallery toward Razor. The young artist stood in front of one of the floor-to-ceiling canvases with a wineglass in his hand. From the bored expression on his face, she guessed he wasn’t very impressed with the art piece.
Though everyone else was smartly dressed for tonight’s opening, Razor had shown up in a stained T-shirt, jeans, leather jacket, and scuffed black combat boots, like he had wandered into the gallery from a nearby construction site. A lit cigarette hung limply from his mouth, drawing stares from annoyed gallery patrons.
“You know, you aren’t supposed to smoke in here,” she said when she drew close to him, making him turn to face her.
He grinned sheepishly and yanked the cigarette out of his mouth. “Yeah, I saw the sign. Just thought I could sneak one in before anyone noticed.”
She glanced at a couple who glared at Razor. They gawked in horror as they watched him drop the cigarette and extinguish it under the heel of his boot on the glossy hardwood floors.
“Oh, trust me. They noticed,” Dawn said. “So to what do I owe the honor of this visit, Razor? Did you decide to take an impromptu trip to DC to check out the Smithsonian, or did you come here to tell me that you’re taking me up on my offer?”
He gulped down the rest of his white wine. She expected him to toss the glass to the floor. Thankfully, he set it aside on a Lucite tray. “I’m still thinking about your offer actually. I was hoping you could help me make up my mind.”
“Really? Now how could I do that?”
“Well, for example . . .” he said, taking several steps toward her. They stood so close that she could smell cigarette smoke, his shampoo, and the lingering smell of another woman’s perfume on his clothes. “You haven’t told me what you’re offering me, babe.”
She didn’t like the sound of that or the look he was giving her. And if he continued to call her “babe,” she may have to punch him.
“You mean what the gallery is offering as far as promotion, or how much commission we plan to take from each sale?” Dawn asked, playing stupid. Maybe if she steered the conversation back to business, he’d stop leering at her. “I can assure you we’ll have ads placed in every major newspaper and arts magazine in the DC region. We’ll even run them in the New York market. I’ve got good connections in the press too and a strong contact list. As so far as commission, traditionally we take 50 percent from retail sales, but we’re willing to negotiate if you don’t find that equitable.”
“No, babe, I told you I don’t care about any of that shit.” His grin widened as he looped an arm around her waist. He drew her toward him. “I mean what are you offering me? Not what the gallery is offering.”
Why does it always have to come to this?
She swore men had one-track minds. It wasn’t enough that she was willing to offer him better contract terms than she had offered any other artist who had their work appear at Templeton Gallery. It wasn’t enough that she had trekked to Brooklyn, shown up at the hipster equivalent of a frat party, and wooed him personally. No, he felt he had to get into her pants too!
And she wasn’t going to sleep with him. No way, no how! Razor was an artist she’d have to work with, and she never blurred the lines between work and sex. It was an old family rule.
You don’t eat where you sleep.
“You mean ‘Don’t poop where you eat,’ ” Lauren’s voice corrected in her head.
But Dawn felt like she was in between a rock and a hard place, and she didn’t know how to get out of it. Her mother had taught her well how to seduce men. Unfortunately, Yolanda Gibbons hadn’t done quite as good of a job showing her daughters how to fend men off.
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, Razor,” Dawn said flatly, removing his arm from around her waist. “What exactly are you asking me?”
“Look, there’s this awesome Moroccan restaurant that I go to in Brooklyn . . . on Leonard Street. Why don’t you come back up to New York next week and we can have dinner there together?” His eyes dipped to the swell of her breasts that peeked over her V-neck top. “Then I could tell you exactly what I’m asking for.”
Dawn pursed her lips, summoning up all her patience. “Look, Razor, I can’t—”
“She’d love to!” Percy shouted.
Dawn turned in surprise to find her boss standing behind her.
Where the hell did he come from?
“She’d love to go to dinner with you!” Percy extended his hand to Razor. “Percy Templeton . . . I’m the owner of this gallery, and it’s a pleasure to meet you, Razor! I adore your work!”
Razor frowned down at Percy’s hand before taking it and giving it a half-hearted shake. “Thanks, dude.”
“I’m sure Dawn would be willing to clear her schedule this week to meet you,” Percy assured before turning to her. “I believe she’s even open tomorrow night! Aren’t you, darling?”
She opened her mouth to say, no, in fact she was busy tomorrow night. She had important things to do like laundry and, uh . . . closets to clean. But she could tell from the expression on Percy’s face that it would be a poor decision to disagree with him.
“Sure, I’m free,” she said through clenched teeth.
Percy clapped his hands. “It’s settled then! You and Razor will enjoy a lovely dinner and iron out the details of his work appearing in our gallery. I’m sure you’ll both have a wonderful time!”
Dawn turned back to Razor who was smiling again. The lusty look was back in his eyes.
“Oh, I’m sure,” she said dryly.