Page 39 of Love Is an Art
Zeke
“Didyouliketheart show? I’m Zeke,” I say to that guy Tessa talked to. He’s definitely bad news. He gave me a weird “salesman” vibe when he stopped me at that last opening. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in business, it’s how to spot the sales guy who’s hawking empty promises. I doubt he can help Tessa with her career. And I don’t want to see her taken advantage of by some unscrupulous con artist.
“Jurgen,” he says as he loads up a plate from the paltry, picked-over leftovers at the small cheese and bread appetizer table. I didn’t even see this spread earlier.
“I like the show very much.” He looks at me, holding his full plate. “Your girlfriend did well. It looks like both her pieces sold.” He gestures expansively to a wall where three paintings that didn’t sell still hang, not having been removed to be packed up.
Did Tessa say she wasmy girlfriend?
It doesn’t seem like he knows that I’m the one who bought them. I shift the Fresh Direct bag on my shoulder that holds our two bubble-wrapped paintings.
“There was even a bidding war,” I say.
“Was there?” He cocks his head, like an animal that’s caught scent of prey.
I shouldn’t have said that. But if he is influential, then I want to support Tessa.
“She heard you have quite a few connections in the art world. Do you?” I ask.
“You’re very direct.” He crosses his arms.
And he doesn’t answer the question.
“I find being direct is best in business,” I say.
All of a sudden, Tessa pops up and says, “Hi.”
I was so focused on Jurgen, I didn’t even see her walking over.
Uh oh. It doesn’t look good that I’m talking to this guy because I don’t want her to think I’m questioning her judgment (even if I am) or presuming I know better how she should handle her own art career. Paisley used to complain for hours about Arthur mansplaining some concept to her.
Tessa looks at both of us, her head tilted, as if to figure out why we are together.
How can I explain why I’m talking to Jurgen?
“I know most everyone. I’ve been doing this for many years.” Jurgen smiles. Sort of. It’s kind of a condescending curve of his lips. “I’ve never seen you before, so maybe you’re the one who’s new to the scene? Like in the business world, connections help. You should trust what your girlfriend says.”
I do trust Tessa. I don’t trust you.
“I’m not his girlfriend, actually,” Tessa says. “We’re on a date.”
I reach out to hold Tessa’s hand and pull her gently to stand next to me.
“He seems very protective of you,” Jurgen says.
At least he got that message.
Tessa glances at me, her brow wrinkled. The hard clack-clack of the volunteers stacking the chairs sounds behind us.
“But you’re no longer making your own art?” I ask. “Don’t you want to use those connections for yourself?”
“If I could, I would have. But sometimes you have to realize you don’t have enough talent. Better to find that out sooner, right?” he asks. “But I still love art, and my talent is finding other people who are going to make it.”
He sounds persuasive. I’ll give him that. Maybe I’m being overly paranoid again. Thanks, Paisley.
“Like Tessa here.” He smiles at her.
Nope. I don’t trust him. Tessa beams at him.
