Mafia Desire (Erotica)

Theron and Margaret both found my thought process surrounding the pricing of my work for the show to be hysterically funny. Every time I would jot down a price on the list, Theron would come behind me and scratch through it, writing in absurdly ridiculous amounts instead.

“Oh, fuck off Theron! No one is ever going to pay 18, 000 quid for that. I painted it in three hours.. I practically pissed on the canvas!” I exclaimed, trying to write the price back in at two thousand. Honestly, I still felt I was ripping people off asking two thousand for it.

“This isn’t those piss ant little college shows you used to do. This is a real show at a serious gallery. They don’t know you did that in three hours. And so what if you did? Eighteen thousand is a bargain for that painting. I think you should price it at twenty five thousand quid, myself!” Theron barked back at me.

“You have got to be kidding me. I don’t know if you’ve been drinking the salt water out there or what, but you are out of your goddamned mind.” I shook my head at him in frustration. Margaret just cackled at our bickering.

“I should be taping this.” She remarked at one point, earning looks of exasperation from both of us.

They finally bullied me into agreeing to their pricing plan, arguing that they had years of experience in the art world and that I didn’t understand the value of my work. By the time it was all said and done, I had set a total value of my paintings to be featured in the show at a little over 340, 000 Euro. I found that number staggering to contemplate.

The three of us flew to London together the week of the show and they were both further amused by my excitement about seeing England for the first time. They had both grown up there, and found the place to be rather dull.

The night of the opening, I was dressed in a suit and tie. It was not my idea, but Margaret had insisted. The gallery was packed with people and I was slightly thrilled to see the degree of interest in my work. Theron introduced me to a couple of other very well known artists that were friends of his and I felt I did a fairly good job of hiding my sense of awe at meeting some of them. I was surprised to find that a couple of them shared my generally cynical view of the art world. But what really unnerved me was the realization that some of the art critics that attended the opening were looking over my work and taking notes.

I don’t think it had hit me until that moment that my work would be viewed by serious, world renowned art critics this evening. Theron was off working the crowd, greeting some fans, and so on. Margaret noticed the look on my face and brought me a glass of wine. She assured me that it was going well so far and that I didn’t need to be concerned about the critics. I drained the wine in about thirty seconds and a server handed me a replacement.

An older British woman approached us and claimed to be a fan of my work. I tried to be gracious about it, but was again very uncomfortable with the idea that I actually had fans. It turned out that this woman had purchased one of my paintings at a previous show in Athens and had actually come to this show to see my work, not Theron’s. Margaret flashed me a huge smile when she overheard that and nodded at me as if to say she had told me so. The woman gave me an email address and asked that I send her photos of any new pieces I would consider selling that were not currently on display. I assured her that I would and she went on her way. I didn’t find out until later that it was considered extremely rude by most serious artists and galleries for a buyer to request to see work that was not currently on display. I didn’t see a problem with it, myself.

About an hour after the show started, I was able to ignore the critics milling about and began to get bored. Truthfully, I was surprised I lasted that long. I normally lost patience with these things in the first twenty minutes. I sipped a glass of wine, wishing it was a beer, and was chatting with Margaret when I heard a soft voice behind me that made my heart seize up.

“Your new work is beautiful, Adam.”

I turned and saw Amy standing before me, a shy and hesitant smile on her face. Her eyes were tired but warm and beautiful. She was dressed in a tight, dark blue dress that ended a few inches above her knees with matching heels. The sapphire necklace that I had given her for Christmas years before dangled from her gorgeous neck. Her hair, now longer, was hanging loosely over one shoulder, exposing her neck fully on one side. She didn’t look a day older than when I’d last saw her, over three years before. She took my goddamned breath away.

I opened my mouth to speak, and words wouldn’t form. I just stared at her for a long moment, just as she stared at me. My mind started racing through thoughts so quickly that I could hardly form them into words. Part of my mind was screaming at myself at the top of it’s lungs to speak, while another was racing through questions. Did she resent me? She would have every right to. I left her behind. I fucking left her behind. Why the fuck did I do that? Did she still want me? Need me like I needed her? Speak, goddamn you! She’s right here. Fucking speak! Has she moved on? Is she over me? She’s here. She can’t hate me. Right? Make your mouth work. Hug her. Hold her. Don’t. You. Fucking. Cry.

“I wasn’t sure I should come.” She finally spoke, her lower lip trembling with uncertainty.

“I’m so glad you did.” I replied, taking my first breath of air in what I thought may have been nearly a minute. In my mind, my words sounded distant, like I was on autopilot for a moment. I wasn’t prepared for to see her. I had so much to say. I tried desperately to get my thoughts in order. Fuck! She was really here! I ached to hold her in my arms.

“So it’s okay that I’m here?” Her voice cracked a little, still hesitant. A storm of emotions was clearly visible in her beautiful blue eyes. I could only imagine the same could be seen in mine, assuming I didn’t look as afraid as I felt. Afraid of her. Afraid of myself. Afraid she’d leave. Afraid of… everything.

“It’s more than okay. I just can’t believe that I’m seeing you.” I stepped forward and hugged her, no longer able to control my impulse. The hell with my fears, I had to hold her. At least once.

Her arms wrapped around me in a tight embrace and she started shaking. Her wonderful, familiar scent filled my lungs. My body had missed her on a cellular level, as I felt rocked to my very core by the warm softness of her small frame encased in mine. Every fiber of my being was focused on holding her in my arms again. I felt a tightness deep in my chest, a feeling I had possessed for so long that I no longer remembered it was not a part of me, slowly begin to uncoil.Property © 2024 N0(v)elDrama.Org.

We didn’t speak for a few long moments, neither of us willing to release our grip on the other. We both seemed to physically vibrate with the power of the moment we were sharing.

“You were so fucking hard to find.” She nearly whispered, her voice choking the words out. I could feel her tears dampening my shoulder.

“I’ve missed you so much.” I breathed in her ear, my voice cracking around the knot in my throat. I tightened my arms around her in a squeeze for a moment but couldn’t will myself to let go of her yet. A tear of my own slid down my face, despite my efforts to contain it.

Finally, she pulled away from me a few inches, her hands sliding down my arms to take both of my hands in hers. She smiled at me as warmly as ever, relief and elation written all over her face despite the tears that caused her mascara to bleed tiny black lines. Many of my questions fell away from my mind in that moment, no longer relevant as I looked in her eyes. They still shone with her love for me. As blue as the water back home.

I heard someone clear their throat suggestively nearby and glanced up to see Theron standing a few feet away with his arm around Margaret. They both had huge expectant grins painted on their faces. Hell, Margaret looked like she may start bouncing at any moment. Margaret wordlessly held a tissue out to Amy, who took accepted it and held it to each of her eyes.

Theron mouthed the word “Amy?” to me, although he looked certain that he already knew the answer. I nodded slightly, suddenly remembering where I was and that we were in a room full of people.

“You must be Amy.” Theron said. Amy glanced at me with a puzzled expression, but nodded to him.

“This is Theron Cain and his wife, Margaret. This is Theron’s show.” I explained.

Theron extended his hand and Amy shook it politely, her other hand still holding mine.

Margaret leaned over and planted a kiss on Amy’s cheek, motioning to me. “I can’t tell you how important you are to this man. I’m so very glad to get the chance to meet you.”

Amy didn’t seem to mind Margaret’s well meaning affection, despite her being a stranger and hugged herself to my arm, which was still trapped fiercely in her grip.

“He’s everythi-” She started to speak and buried her face in my shoulder instead, shaking against me. I pulled my free arm up around her and held her close.

People were moving through the gallery, blissfully unaware of us and the tremendous importance of our reunion. We weren’t being stared at, but I wanted to be alone with Amy all the same. I didn’t care about the show at all anymore. My little sister was back in my arms and that was the only thing that mattered to me right now. I looked up at Theron, who nodded at me as if reading my mind.

“Get out of here, man. I’ll call you in the morning and tell you how the rest of the show went. You’ve got more important things to take care of.” He smiled at me, and put his arm around Margaret again.

Margaret’s eyes were shimmering like she was going to start crying at any moment as she smiled more widely than I would have guessed she was capable of.

“Thanks.” I acknowledged, and led Amy out of the gallery to the street. Her arm was still wrapped around me as we walked. I wasn’t going to complain.

I started to hail a cab, but decided to walk for a while instead.