Page 95 of Judging Duke

“Duke,” I yelled. Where the hell was he?

It was several weeks after the funeral, and we’d been working hard on getting the gallery ready for the grand opening. Choosing just the right image for the show was a nightmare, and I’d spent many sleepless nights picking one, only to discard it the following day.

Duke had been invaluable, not only by helping me select the photos, but he had also taken over the renovation of the old building I’d found.

It was in the perfect location, close to the Albert docks and the Tate Museum. Hopefully, it’d draw some customers in. I’d sent invitations to everyone I could think of and had placed an advert in a local art magazine. Fingers crossed it attracted some clientele.

“What do you need?” Duke walked over to me, placing a kiss on my forehead. “Have you changed your mind again?”

How did he know me so well after such a short amount of time?

“Which one is best?” I placed two photographs in front of him: one of a child on a scooter, the other of a woman riding a bike, her legs outstretched, hair flying behind her.

They were both different in their own way, but I couldn’t make my mind up.

“Hmm.” He stood with his arms folded, a finger to his lip, concentrating. “This one.”

He tapped his finger on the one of the child. “The composition is right. The lighting on this is a little dark. I’m not sure I like it.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.” I threw my arms around him and squeezed. Stress was eating at me, making me doubt my decisions.

“What about the erotic section? Do you have everything for that?” he asked, shuffling the remaining photos on my desk.

I nodded. “That was the first section I sorted.”

With permission, I’d put together a collection of erotic art. Men, mainly, but there were a few women in the mix. Unsure how well it’d go down, I’d placed that selection of pictures upstairs. Duke had said it’d be the most popular genre, but we’d see.

The centre point of that exhibition was a photo I’d taken of Duke after an afternoon of lovemaking.

It’d been one of those occasions where we’d taken our time, where he’d once again made me feel loved and cherished. He’d been lying on the bed, a sheet barely covering him, looking completely satisfied and spent. The light through the window illuminated him and the room perfectly.

“Don’t move. Let me grab my camera,” I’d said, hopping off the bed.

I’d snapped several shots from different angles, telling him not to move. They’d turned out perfectly, and he’d agreed I could use them in the show on the understanding they weren’t for sale.

“No matter how much anyone offers me, I’m not selling it, but at least everyone will see how beautiful you are. How fucking perfect your body is and how I’m the luckiest person alive because you’re with me now.”

Once the gallery opening was done, I planned on hanging it in my bedroom as a constant reminder of him.

Two days until we opened, that was all we had. Dex was flying in from LA, and Cyril had agreed to come visit too. Robbie and Carlos were coming. I wasn’t sure about my parents.

But what if no one liked my pictures? This had been a dream of mine for so long. I couldn’t afford to fail.

“Hey.” Duke lifted my chin with his finger. “These are stunning. Every single one of these shots is amazing. You’ll sell every one, I guarantee. Now get cracking. One of us has to go pick up Dex from the airport, and it’s not going to be me.”

He went back upstairs, leaving me downstairs to continue the difficult decision of choosing more pictures.

Finally, the night arrived, and I was a bag of nerves. I’d picked out suits for me and Duke. Dex was there, Cyril had turned up and looked better than the last time we’d seen him.

Robbie was there with Carlos, and I wasn’t surprised to see them holding hands as they moved around the gallery viewing the pictures.

Mum and Dad hadn’t made an appearance, but after talking to Robbie, he’d admitted they were still uncomfortable with my relationship with Duke. Well, Dad was when he was lucid enough to remember.

I blew out a breath, watching as the assistant I’d hired chatted with the guests, putting SOLD stickers on most of the pictures.

“Fuck, Duke. They’re actually buying them.”

“I told you they were good. Why are you so surprised?”

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