Page 24 of The Devil Wears Orange
“Hmmm. I hope you didn’t detect the pathetic loneliness of a single man because that most certainly isn’t me. Though, the strange truth is I was at my loneliest during my marriage.”
The sincerity of his tone sparks a memory of my last relationship.
“Surely, I’ll do better with wife number five.”
My eyes dart to him.
Laughing, he says, “There’s one ex-wife, I swear. “And what about you?” he changes the subject casually.
I want to press, but suspect it isn’t what he wants.
What about me?I recall the time I visited Los Angeles and had Turkish coffee, to which they added pistachio grains. The owner of the cafe, an old woman, made me leave behind the thick layer of sludgy sediment, where it settled at the bottom then turned it upside-down and studied the grounds. Her skin was hard and wrinkled and she simpered when she muttered her prediction. “It’s bad. You must work hard for love.”
“Single, thirty-three, and living in New York City.” I notice Jack’s steps tend to slow, shortening the gap between us. “And yes, my parents are very proud.” Jack tilts his head back towards me, and I discern a slight smile.
“What will you do when you return home? Look for another job in fashion? I admit I haven’t a clue what your line of work entails.”
“Some people say I persuaded women to buy expensive bags as a long-term investment.”
“You cad,” he slips out in a light-hearted tone. “And what do you say?”
“I say too bad for them if that’s all they see. Fashion can be a powerful tool for self-expression and representation, to show the world who you are because you’ve found that item that syncs your internal with your external. Billy Porter said he felt the most masculine in heels. Heels don’t make men any lessmasculine just like pants don’t make women any less feminine. Oscar de la Renta once said his clothes are love letters to those who wore them. My work is a love letter to my readers. They mean a great deal to me.”
My enthusiasm rises and I bring it down a notch. “Besides, we also sell women on being financially independent with stocks and bonds and real estate. We cover stories on voter suppression, the growing inequities in our healthcare system, and remind our readers that women’s rights still aren’t recognized in our Constitution. ButCatwalkdidn’t used to cover all this. I had to convince them it was important.” I exhale. “Sorry, I’m babbling.”
“It’s alright. I asked.”
At the end of the path, the land opens to a small patch designated for farm animals. Jack holds a gate ajar for me to step through, then closes it behind him. Chickens chatter among us, seemingly annoyed by the disturbance. A fat rooster sits under the shade of a large, wooden shed. I tiptoe my way through, careful not to step on any animal droppings.
Jack’s phone rings and he pulls it from his pocket. Glancing at it, his demeanor changes, and he stares at the ground for a moment as though contemplating the call.
I say, “Do you need to answer that?”
Jack looks up at me, smiles, and slides the phone back into his pocket. “Telemarketer. Let’s continue the tour, shall we?”
We walk in silence, and I’m unable to keep my mind from running wild. I revisit the last twenty-four hours. “How valuable is this painting they stole?”
“Very. Some of Foligari’s paintings were destroyed in a massive fire in Copenhagen, where his work was housed. The museum should have taken better care ofMistress.”
“Yes, the lack of security does seem careless.”
“It happens often. Once, a painting was stolen out of a university in America, and it took weeks before anyone noticed. That was a hard case to crack because so much time had passed, and the FBI couldn’t narrow down when it was stolen. Eventually, the thieves were caught trying to sell it.”
“Is that what these thieves will do?”
“I suspect so. It could even be in New York by now,” he says.
“Why New York, and won’t it be recognized?”
“The smart ones get it out of their possession as quickly as possible. There are many hubs around the world perfect for reselling stolen art at auction. New York is one of them. Besides, customs officials aren’t trained to recognize stolen art and antiquities.”
“So, the auction houses and buyers are duped into buying stolen art?”
“Not necessarily. The auction house can do its due diligence – scan the Art Loss Register and both the FBI’s and Interpol’s websites noting stolen artwork. Many choose not to, though this is a high-profile case.”
I stop. There is too much to wrap my mind around. I should start with the basics. “It starts with the thief.”
Staring, Jack moves towards me. He has broad shoulders perfect to wrap my arms around. Honestly, I can’t understand why I find him sexy all of a sudden. All this clean, open-air living is having an impact on my libido. I get a whiff of Jack’s cologne and visualize his hands on my breasts.Damn it.
