Page 25 of Tempt Our Fate

The guy sitting at the table looks like he hasn’t even graduated high school yet. Or if he has, it wasn’t too long ago. He’s got brown hair that’s buzzed to the scalp, and he watches me with brown eyes almost the same color as his hair. “Did you bring a friend or something today?” the kid asks, his voice confirming my first thought that he may not even be out of high school yet.

“Or something,” Pippa begins, pulling me closer to the table so I stand right next to her. “Tommy, I’d like for you to meet Camden Hunter.”

His chair falls backward and hits the gym floor with a loud thump. He wipes his hands on the front of his paint-stained jeans. “Camden Hunter,” he rushes out, his words jumbling together making my full name sound like one long name. “LiketheCamden Hunter?” His tone goes up an octave as he repeatedly wipes his hands on his clothes.

“I don’t know how many Camden Hunters there are, but it is my name.” I hold out my hand to shake his, but he just stares at my waiting hand in awe.

I freeze, not knowing what I’m supposed to do in this situation. Do I stop the handshake? Wait for this kid to get it together and just look awkward while doing it?

Lucky for me, the kid finally puts his hand in mine and shakes it. “I can’t believe I’m meeting Camden Hunter,” he breathes.

“I promise you he’s not that cool,” Pippa pipes up.

Tommy looks at her in disbelief. As if she’d just told him men never walked on the moon or that George Clooney had just retired from acting. “Not that cool?” He looks from Pippa to me. “You’re a legend.” His eyes bounce around the art displayed around him. “And your eyeballs have landed on my art. Holy shit.”

I follow his gaze, looking at the pieces hanging in the booth. “Are these yours?”

“Yes,” he squeaks.

“Can I get closer?” I ask, already taking a step around the table to walk behind it.

“You can do anything you want,” the kid—Tommy—answers, backing away as if I need that much space to get behind the table.

“Tommy graduated two years ago, and he’s been selling his art at shows and conventions and things like that. He even did the mural for me in the shop that leads to the back.”

“Are you in school at all?” I let my eyes roam over his different pieces. They’re vastly different, but you can still see his style shining through each piece. They are all landscapes. There are mountains, beaches, forests. They seem very traditional, but also, he brings a modern twist to each one. They’re very eye-catching. The longer you look at them, the more things you notice. Like how he changes his brushstrokes halfway into painting the beach to make each side look different. Normally such a difference of strokes would make things seem off-balance, but he makes it work.

“He can’t see you shaking your head,” Pippa says from the other side of the table.

“Right,” Tommy states. “No, I’m not in school at all. I’m hoping if I sell enough art that maybe I’ll be able to save enough money to go.”

I circle the back of the booth, inspecting all of the pieces he has on display. He’s got a lot of talent for someone who seems to have no technical training.

“What’s your pricing?” I focus on a landscape of a forest. It’s at night, but it still feels warm and inviting. Like everything is asleep around you, and you get to be at peace for once in the calmness of the night.

“That one is one hundred.”

“Thousand?”

Pippa sputters behind me. Or maybe it’s Tommy because when I look at him, his face is bright red. “No,” he whispers, his voice scratchy. “Just one hundred dollars.”

I frown. “You’reseverelyundercharging for your art.”

“I am?”

“Definitely. I already have people in mind who would pay thousands upon thousands of dollars for these pieces.”

“What…” The redness from his face is gone. Now he’s white as a ghost. “I’ve never even dreamed about that much money.”

Pulling my wallet from my slacks, I fish out my business card. I hold it between my pointer and middle finger as I hand it to him. “I’m going back to Manhattan tomorrow, but here’s my card. Email me, and we’ll get your art in my gallery. You’ll find out what at least half a mil looks like by the end of the month.”

“Half a what?” the kid asks. His eyes are so wide with shock that he looks like he’s straight out of a cartoon.

“Million,” I finish, confident his pieces will sell. The kid will be in for a real treat when he finds out what people will pay if he does custom work for them. I know ten people off the top of my head who’d want a custom piece done for sentimental reasons.

Pippa looks as shocked as Tommy when I finally look at her. Her mouth hangs open, and I hate that the first thing that pops into my mind is how fun it would be to shove my cock in it. Her tongue is a perfect shade of pink. It’d look hot as fuck licking cum from my shaft.

The thought is so abrupt that I almost trip over my own feet. The only reason I don’t face-plant is because I’m able to reach out and steady myself on the corner of the table. Luckily, Pippa and Tommy seem to be so swept up in the amount people are willing to pay for art that they don’t notice my slip-up.

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