“Do you paint for someone else?”
“No! I just do prep work. But it’s mostly administrative stuff that keeps me busy. For my boss.”
“You don’t paint anymore? That’s a shame.”
“I will. Eventually. That was always the plan.” I stand up and Daisy immediately sits at my feet, staring up at me. So cute.
“Save money so you have time to paint?”
“Yeah. I mean, I was hoping I’d have time to paint while I was working, but…Sebastian’s got a lot going on, and he depends on me, so…”
“Sebastian, huh?”
“Sebastian Smith. He’s the artist I work for. That’s how I met Dolly, she’s a big supporter of his work.”
“I’ve heard of him.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. I’ve seen his work at MOMA. He had a big sale a few years back.”
“Huge sale. Twenty million at Christies. That was right before I started working for him.”
“That his real last name? Smith?”
“Actually, his last name is Paris, but he figured people would thinkthatwas a fake name.”
“Uh huh. And how long have you been in love with Sebastian Smith?” he asks, without even looking at me. Like fucking Sherlock Holmes.
“What? I’m not in love with him.”
“Those inflections in your voice when you say his name and talk about him tell me otherwise.”
“Oh what—were you trained to read people in law school or something?”
“Yes.”
“Well. You’re lucky you graduated, because you’re not very good at it.”
“I am lucky. And you’re very talented. These are all yours on the walls here?” He gestures at the paintings that line every wall in my living room.
“Yes. Well, that collage is a gift from my friend, and another friend did all the framed photos. And that water color is my mom’s work and the acrylic is my dad. But yeah. The oil paintings are me. Thank you.” I don’t know why it makes me feel so nervous to watch as he studies my work, but it does.
“Your parents are artists too?”
“Yes.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah. It’s a long story that I don’t really want to get into right now.”
“Good. I wasn’t going to ask.”
“Great.”
“I really like the one of yours that’s in Dolly’s guest room.”
“You do? Thank you.”