While I definitely wasn’t nervous about the event, I still didn’t really want to be there. I actually had entertained the idea of skipping the exhibit altogether. A couple hours after arriving I almost wished I had. I was entirely unimpressed with the process of having to mingle with a bunch of rich dicks and keeping up with pretentious conversations about what they thought the art around them was supposed to mean instead of enjoying it for what it was.
No matter their medium, artists were always a conundrum to people. Brooding talents full of anguish and love and a thousand other things all at once. These assholes could chat for hours about the texture of my brushstrokes and my use of colors and never understand what went through my mind as I created.
It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the opportunity, I would have been an idiot not to. Grayson Contemporary was one of the most well respected art galleries in the city. They’d housed and sold the work of some of the greatest contemporary artists in the country and I knew my piece was going to sell for a pretty penny tonight. Both the cash out and the exposure would do nothing but good things for me. Still, every time I had to stuff myself into some uncomfortable suit and chat with some walking checkbook about the merits of Basquiat’s early work, I felt like a sellout.
Rosie, of course, handled the entire affair beautifully. She mingled, keeping her small talk to generalized topics, charming everyone with her beauty and charisma. She was a fucking force to be reckoned with, just like I knew she would be.
“So that’s her, huh?” I grinned as I heard my best friend’s voice behind me. “She’s hot.”
Turning around to give him hug and a flick on the head. “Watch yourself you fucking prick!”
Cam laughed before stuffing his hands into his pants pockets as we both watched Rosie chat with a curly-haired woman across the room. I couldn’t help but laugh at how uncomfortable he looked in his suit. Cam, like myself, had always been more of a jeans and t-shit kind of guy. He hated it when I made him don a “monkey suit for one of my events.
“C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”
Practically dragging Rosie away from her conversation, I gestured towards Cam. “Rosie, this is Cameron, my idiot, piece of shit, best friend. Cam, this is Rosie, my angel of a girlfriend.”
Rosie looked over at me shocked, her eyes almost comically wide before Cam knocked her out of her stupor by enveloping her into a hug, lifting her slightly off of the ground, causing her to laugh.
“It’s nice to meet you too, Cameron.”
“I’ve got to say, Rosie. You’re definitely the prettiest out of all Dex’s girlfriends.”
She looked over at me, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised and her arms crossing across her chest. “Oh, really?”
Her face, while seemingly angry, was still playful, those big brown eyes were full of mirth. I played along.
“Absolutely.” I nodded my head enthusiastically. “You’re the prettiest one in my roster, by far.”
Rosie let out a bark of laughter, drawing the attention of some of the patrons standing near us before throwing her hand over her mouth and reaching out to punch me in the shoulder.
“Ow!”
“Oh, shut it.”
Our antics were interrupted by the gallery owner, Carrie, approaching us. The large smile on her face clued me into exactly what she was about to tell me.
“You’re not going to believe how much it sold for, Dex!” She could barely contain her excitement enough to acknowledge the two people standing next to me.
I let Carrie drag me off to chat with the buyer and finalize some paperwork, leaving Cam and Rosie to talk amongst themselves. I could only imagine the type of shit he would be telling her about me.
The buyer was a nice, middle-aged woman with fiery red hair, a fat wallet, and a penchant for spoiling herself with fine art. She was perfectly pleasant, content to compliment me on my work and get straight to business.
After paying the gallery their commission I ended up pocketing about 15 grand. As much as I hated to admit it, it always felt good to be acknowledged for my work. Especially when that acknowledgment came in the form of a big check.
I played the role of the starving artist for years, working shitty job after shitty job, barely being able to afford enough paint to fill a canvas; I more than deserved this.
In that moment, the only thing I wanted more than to cash my check, was to take my girl out to dinner.
Rosie and Cam were laughing and stealing leftovers from the snack table when I made my way back to them.
I grabbed her up, taking her mouth in a victory kiss. That gorgeous mouth tasted heavily of the red wine she had been sipping on all night.
“Come on, baby. Say goodbye to Cam. We’re going out to celebrate.”
She didn’t protest as I practically dragged her back towards the Porsche, the grin never straying from my face.
14