Page 55 of Edge of Ruin
I abruptly became aware of the quality of Jack’s fierce, silent attention. “Um, Rafael, do you suppose we could meet for coffee and talk about this tomorrow? Now is not the best time for?—”
“What better time? We arranged this time in the astral plane, sweetheart! There’s no time to lose. I’m catching a plane tomorrow from Portland. Seize the moment!” Rafael took my arm and led me away from the crowd.
I glanced uncomfortably back at Jack. He followed closely, his face impassive.
“Listen carefully,” Rafael began earnestly. “A sample month in the life of Vivi D’Onofrio, art promoter. One week in San Francisco, eating sushi and going to the opera. The next week in Berkeley, taking in wild experimental theater. A tour of the wine country in between. On to Los Angeles, San Diego, Santa Fe, always a different view. No fleabag motels, no moldy campground showers. You eat in award-winning restaurants, you sleep in five-star hotels, and you deal in outrageously expensive art. It’s fun, stimulating, challenging. What do you say?”
“You know money has never been a big priority for me?—”
“Oh, I know that.” Rafael patted my shoulder. “But just try making lots of money for a while, and see how fast you get used to it, angel girl.”
“The real reason is not the money,” I plodded on. “I’m?—”
“This job is your way back into the high-end art world! Everything that bastard Wilder took from you, you can have again! I’m not suggesting you be a site manager or curator forever. I’m thinking about your long-term artistic career! If you go this road, with the contacts you develop, you can write your own ticket!”
“But my shop is already organized, and I?—”
“A little shop in a little town has its charm, but just think about it for a while. Work with me, and in no time, that scumbag Wilder will be eating your exhaust. Imagine the satisfaction.”
I imagined it. Then I twisted gently out of Rafael’s grip and wrapped my arms across my chest. I was shivering, although the night was warm. The crowd swirled around us, but the music faded to the background as I pondered Rafael’s offer.
The big-time art world. Success, fame, money. The life I’d dreamed of as a struggling young artist. Odd, how it didn’t make my heartbeat quicken anymore.
I lifted my gaze past my friend’s hopeful, expectant face, to where Jack stood, behind him. His stance rigid. Eyes fixed on her.
That life absolutely didn’t include Jack. The finality of that fact sent a stab of nervous panic through me. “Ah ... ah, it’s tempting, but?—”
“And you could play fairy godmother to your artist friends! You’d have the power to bring their stuff to the attention of the high-end buyers! You could change their lives! Wouldn’t that be grand?”
I took a slow breath. “It sounds great, but I found a perfect location for my shop. I’m content with that. I’m staying put.”
I twisted to see if Jack was still listening. He was close behind, but when I tried to meet his eyes, he just looked straight ahead.
Rafael’s gaze shifted, from Vivi to Jack, back again. “Ah. I understand, angel. You just think about it for a while. I won’t push.”
I turned to Jack and reached to take his hand. “The band is starting another song. Let’s go back near the stage, okay?”
Jack’s hand was stiff. “I’m ready to leave,” he said.
Rafael’s smile faded. He looked at Jack fingering the waxed ends of his moustache. “Oh dear,” he said in a low voice. “I hope I haven’t put you in a tight spot, love. But will you think about it, at least?”
“Certainly, I’ll think about it,” I told him. “And thank you. It’s a beautiful offer, and you’re a wonderful friend. I’m so glad to be back in touch.”
Rafael gave me an impulsive hug. “Give me your cell number. Promise me you’ll give it some serious thought. I’ll walk you out to the van.”
I pulled out my phone. “I don’t get much mobile coverage out where I live,” I told him. “I’ll give you the landline number at my shop, and at Jack’s house, too.”
We exchanged numbers as we strolled. Rafael’s eyes grew nostalgic as we stopped at the van. He turned to Jack. “Did Viv tell you that I?—”
“Yeah,” Jack said dourly. “You painted the serpent.”
Rafael’s eyes turned dreamy. “This was my best van painting. I’d be more than willing to paint the other side for you, love. How about a portrait of the two of you? Chain-mail bathing suits, shreds of fur, a flaming sword? You can be hugging his leg. I love it when the girl hugs the guy’s leg.” His gaze flicked to Jack’s muscular thigh.
“Oh, no, no. That’s okay,” I said quickly. “I like just having the one.”
“I had such wild times in that van,” Rafael reminisced. “One night Billy and Ronnie and I got some tequila and limes and salt, and we?—”
“You told me that story,” I interrupted hastily.
