Page 86 of Silver-Tongued Devil
He didn’t make any kind of beeline for her. He wandered around, looking at various pieces, like an art gallery was exactly where an ex-quarterback tycoon with a banged-up knee wanted to be on Monday morning, and worked his way closer to where she stood. A man on a mission, if a sneaky one.
The male half of the couple talking to Elizabeth said, “I like this, honey.” He was looking at her frilled orchid. Fuchsia, with a nub of yellow in the middle of the pink.
“A flower?” his wife, a well-preserved woman in silk trousers and a platinum bob, asked doubtfully. “Are you sure? Flowers are so… decorative.”
A certain quarterback was standing near the couple now, asking, “Anybody know who’s in charge here? I can’t find anybody with a name tag.”
Elizabeth said, “I’m the owner. We don’t wear name tags here.”
“Huh,” Blake said, scratching at his stubbled cheek and looking doubtful. “Excuse my saying it, but how does anybody know who the clerks are, then? When you go to Home Depot, they’ve got an apron on, so you can spot ’em.” He asked the older man, “Know what I mean?”
“You’re right about that,” the man said. “Come to think of it.”
“May I help you with something?” Elizabeth asked, her tone icier by the moment.
“Yes, ma’am,” Blake said. “I was wondering if this bird’s for sale.” He pointed to the eagle. The one he’d already bought. “That’s right nice. Saw it all the way across the room.”
“I’m in the process of deciding on this piece,” Elizabeth said. “If you’d like to leave your name…” She looked at his jeans and the dark stubble on his jaw, and then she looked at his jacket, as if she weren’t sure which to believe.
“Now, that’s just inefficient, if you’ll pardon my saying so.” Blake reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his leather-bound checkbook. “Here I am, here it is, and I’m a busy man. I need something to hang up in my living room, and this looks good to me. I’m ready to buy it off of somebody.”
“Actually,’ Dakota said, “I’m the artist. I’d be happy to sell it to you.”
Elizabeth’s expression cracked just a fraction. Her mouth opened, then closed.
“That so?” Blake asked. “Well, this is my lucky day, darlin’. What’s the damage?”
He lifted a dark brow at her as if he were telling her,Don’t move the number down. I can hear you doing it.“Three thousand dollars,” she said, and about fainted dead away saying it.
“Hmm,” he said. “On the other hand, you’re not payin’ any overhead here, are you, if this lady isn’t getting her cut? You could call it wholesale.”
“Or you could call it the price,” she said sweetly, and saw the gleam in his eye, the twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Thewholesaleprice. If you wait until it’s hung in a gallery, you’ll have to pay the markup. If you get it at all. My pieces are all one of a kind.”
“Guess I’d better buy it, then, else I’ll be stuck with a hummingbird.”
“I don’t do hummingbirds.”
“Wait a minute.” That was the male half of the couple, who were still standing around listening. “Aren’t you Blake Orbison?”
“Afraid so,” Blake said.
“The Devils quarterback,” the man told his wife.
“Ex-quarterback,” Blake said. “How you doin’. Now, this thing here…” He took a couple more awkward steps over to the iris. “Usually, I’m not much of a flower guy, if you know what I mean,” he told his new fan. “Doesn’t quite send the image you’re going for when you invite a lady over, if you catch my drift. But this thing here… yeah, I think I’m going to need to buy this one, too. And… whoa, Nellie.” He was looking at the orchid, then at Dakota. “Darlin’, I think you took some liberties. I know what that’s a picture of, and it’s not a flower. I need one of these for sure. Hang that sucker right in the bedroom, and I just got luckier.”
“I was interested in this piece myself,” the man said.
“That so? Did you buy it?”
“Not yet, no. I was about to make an offer, though.”
Blake shook his head. “Now, see, that’s where you went wrong. Got to make your move. You stand in the pocket too long, you’re just asking to take the sack. How about this one?” he asked Dakota.
“Two thousand,” she said. “For each of the flowers.”
He sighed. “You drive a hard bargain, darlin’. Tell you what. I’m just going to go wild and buy the bird and that… what’s the other flower there?”
“That’s an iris,” Dakota said.
