Page 64 of A Royal Disaster
Liam cleared his throat. “So, you’re the artist here. What do you think we’re supposed to be seeing?” he asked, gesturing toward the deflated pink animal.
Lena turned her attention back to the statue. “Honestly? I’m having trouble with this one. It feels like a bit of a knockoff,” she admitted, hating that she sounded so judgmental. Art was personal and entirely subjective, but yeah, she wasn’t feeling this piece. “There’s another artist, Jeff Koons, who has an amazing series of metallic balloon animals that symbolize optimism, and I’m sure this is meant to inspire the opposite reaction, but I have to be honest, for me, this just feels like a cheap imitation.”
Liam smirked. “They say imitation is the best form of flattery.”
“Not in this case.” Lena frowned. “It lacks originality.”
“Excuse me.”
They turned in unison to find a young man in a fitted black pantsuit. Either the guy had soft-soled shoes or he moved like a ninja, because she hadn’t heard him approach.
“My name is Marcus Gillroy and I’m the curator here at The Verve.” He reached into his pocket and offered Lena his card, although his eyes kept sliding to Liam. “I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. You’re an artist?”
“Yes. Elena Murphy,” she said, extending her hand to the curator, who gave it the briefest shake in return. “I own a studio in the East Village where I work and teach.”
Gillroy nodded. “I see. And what is your preferred medium?”
“Primarily paint, but I do some sculpture and mixed-media work as well.”
What was with all the questions? She seriously doubted the dude paid this much attention to every artist who rolled through the door. On a normal day she’d have been lucky he gave her the time of day.
“Your assessment of this exhibit was…astute,” he said, cutting his eyes at the statue behind her. Lena started to apologize, but he waved her off. “My assistant curated this exhibit.” He lowered his voice, though there was no one else in the gallery. “Trust me, it’s a mistake I won’t be repeating.”
“I see,” Lena said, unsure how to respond.
Gillroy straightened his spine, pulling himself up to his full height, which was only a few inches taller than her. “You have a sharp eye. I’d love to review your portfolio to see how it’s reflected in your work.”
Lena’s bullshit radar spiked. She’d submitted her work to The Verve twice and both times they’d politely declined. Rejection was the name of the game in the art world. You couldn’t take it personally or the soul crushing despair would devour your creativity and your will to live.
Harsh, but true.
So why was he so hot on seeing her work? It probably had something to do with the way his eyes kept returning to Liam. Was it possible the curator wasn’t as clueless about their identities as he pretended to be? If he knew who Liam was, he was probably only asking about her work because he figured their combined names would draw a crowd, not because he was impressed with her assessment of the sad pink dog.
Indignation burned like a hot coal in her chest. She wasn’t a freaking charity case, and she wasn’t about to use Liam to get ahead in her own career. If it took another twenty years to land a gallery showing, so be it. At least she’d do it on the merit of her work.
“We’re always accepting submissions for new exhibits.” Gillroy grinned like a Canal Street vendor hawking luxury handbags. “You can find the themes for group shows on our website, but if your portfolio is substantial enough, we also exhibit solo collections.”
“I appreciate your interest, Mr. Gillroy—”
“Please, call me Marcus,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm like they were old friends.
“All right, Marcus,” she said with an overly saccharine smile. “The truth is, I’ve submitted my work for review in the past and The Verve has declined to show it.”
Marcus flinched almost imperceptibly, but he rebounded quickly. “As you know, tastes are always changing. New seasons, new trends. What was in is out and what was out is in.” He paused. “Give us another opportunity to review your portfolio. Maybe you even have some new pieces that we haven’t seen?”
She did have some new pieces, but that didn’t mean she wanted to submit them to Marcus. “I appreciate the invitation. I’ll think it over and let you know.”
No way was she going to let him strong-arm her into committing on the spot.
Looking as deflated as the pink dog, Marcus bid them good afternoon and returned to his office at the back of the gallery.
“Are you feeling all right?” Liam asked, concern lining his face as he turned to study her. “Because it sure sounded like you have no intention of submitting your portfolio.”
“That’s because I don’t.”
…
“What do you mean you have no intention of submitting?” It made no bloody sense. Where was the enthusiasm? This was exactly the kind of opportunity she needed. Once people saw how fantastic her work was, they’d love it as much as he did.
