Page 44 of Pretend for Me

I’d elbowed a customer, and not just any customer, but Marcus Lenore, of Lenore Galleries. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Instead I outstretched my hand and wheezed out, “That’s me.” Fighting the urge to have a panic attack, I smiled.

“Nice to meet you, young lady,” Marcus greeted. “I was wondering if you’d like to meet with me later on at my newest gallery to discuss some opportunities. Maybe a potential showcase. Bring me everything you’ve got, the bigger the better.”

I chuckled nervously. “Yes, yes of course!” I managed to get out. This must be a practical joke. Good things don’t happen to me.

He handed me his business card. “Come by at noon. Ciao, darling,” Marcus commented and took a sip from his mimosa. “Tell Bridget to put it on my tab.”

I nodded even though he couldn’t see me as he was already striding out of the restaurant. Soon I was alone, standing in the middle of the dining room.

Wow. This might be my first big break. I ran to find Audrey and ask Bridget if I could get the rest of the day off.

Maneuveringthrough hordes of people in the subway terminal, I carried two huge canvases and had my crossbody bag thrown over my shoulder. It felt like it weighed more than I did. Wearing the black pumps didn’t help my movements be graceful either. I wanted to look dignified, but I hated heels. They only served as a reminder of when I was forced to pretend in front of high society people.

“Ouch.” I cringed as I stumbled and tried to bob out of an old lady’s way. Instead of steering clear of her, I whacked her with one of the canvases as I turned. I was already running behind for my interview at Marcus’s gallery, so I had no time to delay for the sake of being polite.

The old lady had given me the stink eye before huffing away, mumbling about how young people had no respect.

My phone began to ring as I walked down the street. I groaned.It must be Audrey calling to bitch about her lack of tips from the bridal shower.

“What!” I spat into the phone, mad at myself for being late.

“Well hello to you too.” Aiden chuckled on the other end of the phone.

Fuck!

I had been dodging Aiden’s calls in an effort to not have to have a very uncomfortable conversation over the phone.

“Sorry, I thought you were Audrey!” I rolled my eyes, hoping I could end this conversation quickly. The block was approaching, and I needed to mentally prepare for my interview.

“I haven’t heard from you in a while. I’ve missed you if I’m being honest. Are you free anytime soon for lunch or dinner?” Aiden offered.

I squeezed my eyes shut, cursing myself for answering the phone. “Ah, Aiden, I just can’t right now. I’m not in a good place to be dating. It wouldn’t be fair of me to involve you in my shit. My life right now is complicated,” I admitted, figuring I might as well confess this to someone. “My ex came back into my life recently.” I gulped. “And ifI’mbeing honest, I gave away my heart when I was four years old and I never got it back.” Silent tears streamed down my face. I really shouldn’t have done this over the phone.

Aiden’s loud breathing was all that could be heard for a few moments.

“Oh. Well this is awkward, so I’m going to go. I really do wish you the best, Cassie,” Aiden said, hurriedly. The line went dead before I could respond.

“Great. Just fucking great.” My colorful language earned some judgmental looks from an older man exiting a store.

“These are really something,Cassie. Your depiction of childhood and the loss of innocence teetering on such a fine line. It’s hard to capture that sort of range while still keeping realistic features. Impressive,” Marcus remarked, his smile not quite meeting his eyes. Marcus Lenore was an eccentric force to be reckoned with right down to his baggy pants and spiked hairdo. He had the perfect balance of sophistication and avant-garde madness. What a juxtaposition.

He was also quite a serious gentleman, so the small smile was rather telling of his feelings toward my art.

“I think it would be a fine addition to the showcase.”

I exhaled the breath I was unaware I had been holding since entering the gallery. “Wow,” I muttered softly before gathering my bearings to say, “Thank you so much! I’m so pleased you wanted to see my work.” I outstretched my hand to shake his, figuring it was the professional move to make. I beamed, proud that I had secured a spot in an art show. And one that was run by such a prestigious man.

“Now the opening is in a week. And while these pieces are swell, we are sticking with a theme of ’magic.’ It’s open to interpretation of course. Before you leave, check out some of the items we’ve curated thus far. Ta ta.” Marcus quickly kissed the air and walked away, heading off to tend to his other duties.

I shook my head, holding in a laugh at his outlandish behavior. I twirled and my heels got caught, making my knees wobble. Thankfully I balanced myself before falling flat on my face. What an impression that would give.

There were quite a few paintings, pencil sketches, and some even just done with a simple Sharpie. There was beauty and meaning in each unique piece. Art was subjective—there could be a million different meanings in the one piece. The differing explanations was one of the many aspects of art I appreciated.

Looking at these special contributions artists had created for the show, I knew which one of my works of art fit the theme best. It was hanging in Bridget's restaurant and symbolized the epitome of magic. Now I just had to go and get it back.

24

MATTHEW

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