Page 47 of Blown

“What’s not a good idea?” Rafe asked as he slipped the blowpipe into the furnace to gather glass.

Jake glanced back to Hélène, who had gone to view the collection of their English countryside work again. His back bristled as she picked up a small vase and turned it over.

“How about making something else for her?” he asked, turning back to Rafe. “You’re brilliant at Venetian-style goblets. Why not make one of those for her?”

Just as he’d feared, anger immediately clouded Rafe’s expression. “No one on Hélène Rénard’s level was ever impressed by just a goblet.”

“I know,” Jake said, shifting from foot to foot, “but something isn’t right here.”

Rafe pulled his gather out of the furnace and moved to the marver, Jake following. “I’ve just been handed the chance of a lifetime, we’ve been handed it. One of Europe’s most renownedglass artists is here, in our hot shop, interested in our process, and you think this is a bad thing?”

The tension pulling Jake’s insides apart melted a little. “Our” hot shop. “Our” process. The idea of being a team with Rafe was everything Jake wanted and then some. But with his instincts pinging like a smoke detector that needed its battery replaced, that beautiful vision seemed just out of reach.

“I want this to be your big break, too,” he whispered, watching as Rafe moved back to gather more glass. “But one liar recognizes another liar.”

Rafe twisted to glare at him as he slipped the pipe back into the fire. “Are you accusing Hélène Rénard of being a liar?” he hissed in return, sending the woman a quick glance past Jake’s shoulder.

Jake grimaced. Yes, he was, but he had no idea how to explain his feeling. It was all gut and no evidence.

“We ran into her last night in London and less than twelve hours later, she shows up here at Hawthorne House,” he whispered. “Don’t you find that at all suspicious?”

“She wanted to come see the arts center and our work,” Rafe argued, quiet and tight. “Maybe she had another engagement this afternoon and is returning to Paris soon, so this is the only time she could fit in a visit.”

Jake let out a breath, half admitting defeat. That could be true. But every instinct he possessed said it was something more. He had to be on his guard.

“Please,” he said as Rafe moved to the marver to work and smooth the glass again. “Just make something else, a sculpture, a vase, anything.”

“No,” Rafe said. “Grab the rods.”

Jake sighed and moved away to set out the green glass rods for another English countryside piece. He didn’t want todemonstrate their technique to Hélène a second time. It felt like they were inviting trouble.

“Have you shown anyone this work yet?” Hélène asked halfway through Rafe’s efforts to make a bowl.

“Yes,” Jake lied, his heart pounding furiously against his ribs. “We still have friends in Corning. I sent them pics and had an entire conversation with the director there about the technique.”

“When was this?” Rafe demanded. Jake could practically see his anger rising again, like watching the mercury in an old thermometer.

“Um, last week,” Jake said, his stomach sinking all over again. He wasn’t supposed to be lying. The health of his relationship with Rafe depended on him being completely truthful at all times. But this particular lie felt like a matter of life and death.

“When last week?” Rafe asked, angrier still.

“It was…you were…I think….”

Shit. For once in his life, he couldn’t come up with a plausible lie. His conscience was too much in the way and Rafe was glaring at him like he’d never forgive him if he bent the truth now. It was one of those rare, frustrating occasions when the truth was the thing that would make someone like him and a lie would tangle things to the point where he wouldn’t be able to fix it.

“I meant to send pics and call Karol and tell her about it, but maybe I got distracted,” he said.

Hélène nodded, and for a brief moment, a sly smile touched her lips. “So nobody else knows about this brilliant work of yours yet.” It wasn’t a question.

Jake wanted to scream with paradoxical victory. It was suddenly as clear as day what she was up to. Even the biggest names in the art world weren’t above stealing ideas from relative unknowns. They were about to be fucked royally, and Rafe wasso eager to please and make a name for himself that he couldn’t see it.

When Rafe needed him, Jake slipped into place to work the glass with him. For a few agonizing seconds, Jake thought about messing up the piece on purpose. It would throw Hélène off the scent, but it would also reek of all the things he’d done in Corning to upstage Rafe and ruin his chances with Hero Yoshito. He couldn’t do that again, not if he wanted to have any chance at a future with Rafe.

He could only stand there, helping when Rafe needed help, and letting Hélène watch every step of their technique. He just knew she was taking notes in her head. His only hope at that point was that she’d forget a step or two in the process and be unable to replicate it in her own studio. As far as he could tell, she wasn’t writing notes and she didn’t have her phone up to record and document the process.

They were just about done with the bowl when Janice stepped into the hot shop, looking fresh and happy.

“Yoo hoo,” she said, looking straight at Hélène. “I’ve come to see how everything is going and to tell you Robert and I have prepared a picnic for you in the rose garden.”

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