Chapter 9 #2
Noah couldn’t stand waiting for Kizzy to call and tried her phone number. Perhaps her father had forgotten to give her the message. Yeah, right. He’d thought he’d made a good impression. Maybe the guy was just grin-fucking him.
After an inordinate number of rings, Kizzy finally picked up. “Hello?”
“Kizzy! It’s Noah. Are you all right?”
An audible sigh met his ears. “Yes and no.”
Noah hesitated, but she didn’t elaborate. Finally, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Um…it’s…complicated.”
“Why are you being evasive? If something is wrong, you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone else.”
“I’m sorry, Noah. It’s my father. He really… I shouldn’t share the details. That family situation I told you about? It’s getting worse. I really can’t see you right now.”
“Are you sure? I want to help.”
“You can’t.” Her voice wobbled a bit.
Noah wished he could tell her “Yes, I can.” But how could he reveal his supernatural identity without compromising their relationship? It already seemed tenuous, at best.
“Kizzy, whatever it is, I’m here for you. I really wish you’d let me in.”
“I wish I could. You’ll just have to trust me. It’s the timing. It’s not you.”
Without meaning to, Noah let out a resigned sigh. “Okay. Is it all right if I call once in a while and check on you?”
“Yeah. That would probably be all right. But if I don’t pick up, don’t worry. It’s just…”
“I know. Not a good time.”
“Exactly.”
“Just tell me one thing. Did your father tell you I returned your phone?”
“Huh? No. He didn’t. I found my phone here in his kitchen and thought it was weird. I texted you to say I had an emergency and had to go. I must have dropped it when I thought I hit the send button. I couldn’t find it while Ruth and I were on our way to the hospital.”
“You went to the hospital? Are you all right? Is Ruth okay?”
“Yeah, we’re fine. There was a major car wreck, and they needed me.”
“Shit. I didn’t hear about that.”
“It was on the news.”
“I don’t like to watch the news these days.”
So her father hadn’t mentioned him at all. What the hell was going on? Why would he feel he needed to lie about that—even if it was lying by omission? Maybe this relationship really wasn’t a good idea. His heart broke a little bit as he thought about never seeing her again.
“All right. If things settle down, let me know. Meanwhile, I’ll leave you be.”
“I’m sorry, Noah. I wish things were different. Just know that.”
“Fine. Take care.”
“You too.”
After he hung up, Noah laid his phone down on his kitchen table. He seemed to be on the outs with everyone. He wished he could talk to Dante, but he was busy helping Mallory today. Her gallery show was this evening.
Gabriella had called and invited him to the show—more like twisted his arm.
At the time, he’d said he didn’t know if he would be able to make it.
Now, he really felt like going. He needed his family.
More accurately, he needed to be surrounded by his family’s unconditional love and acceptance.
The sting of rejection was weighing heavily on him.
Maybe it was time to accept Dante’s choice of Mallory.
He really had no business telling his brother who to date.
Someday, she might become his sister-in-law, and he didn’t want any awkward history following them throughout their lifetimes.
His and Dante’s lifetimes would be a heck of a lot longer than Mallory’s.
That helped him put things in perspective.
His father and some of his brothers would deal with the loss of a spouse long before they took their final flight.
A human spouse would face mortality long before a phoenix.
If he ever found his soulmate, chances are he would have to deal with the loss too.
Two of his brothers were lucky in that respect.
They married dragons and would probably be outlived by their wives.
However, the rest of the phoenix family would need one another for support when the time came.
Kizzy might be a doctor and know how to take care of her physical health as she aged, but she couldn’t escape death. It might be best to forget her—while he still could.
He would set up the rest of the lab, then clean up, put on a suit, and go to the gallery for the show. Chances are he wouldn’t buy anything, but he could at least lend emotional support to Dante and his girlfriend. He owed them that.
* * *
Helen Smythe, the gallery owner, sat down with Mallory about an hour before the show opening.
Mallory had confessed how nervous she was, and the woman seemed to understand.
The funny thing was, she’d said Mallory appeared better adjusted than some artists she’d worked with.
Mallory almost burst out laughing at that. Instead, she just said, “Oh dear.”
Now, the day had arrived and they were actually doing this. Dante leaned against the doorjamb, listening quietly.
“How are you feeling?”
“Scared. Unprepared. Like an imposter.”
Helen laughed. “At least you’re honest. That’s why I asked you to come early. A lot of artists blunder or bluster their way through a gallery show—even those who’ve had several. Because this is your first, I thought I’d prepare you a bit in advance if you’re open to it.”
Mallory sat up straighter. “Yes, please! I want to know what to expect and anything else you want to tell me.”
“Good. Every art show or exhibition opening marks a milestone in your career as an artist. This is your premier and a critical window of opportunity. It may only last a few hours, but think of it as taking a shot at changing your destiny. Why? Because anything can happen—and it often does—which means you’ve got to be ‘on’ and be ready. ”
“Oh crap.”
Helen laughed again. “Don’t worry. You look gorgeous, and your art is fantastic. Of course, it’s my job to make sure it shows as well as it possibly can at your opening.”
“And thank you for that! It doesn’t show nearly as nicely in my unfinished basement.” She cracked a smile, and Helen seemed to know she was joking—sort of.
“Well, there’s a reason that we make it look pristine and perfect. Everyone wants favorable reactions, healthy sales, and great reviews. But the most important ingredient is you, and the more aware you are of the art lovers, the better the chances to upwardly alter the course of your success.”
“I was nervous before. Now, I’m terrified.”
She patted Mallory’s hand. “You’ll be fine.
Do you want to know how I know that? Because you care.
I’m amazed at the number of artists who have cavalier attitudes toward their openings or, worse yet, see them as inconveniences or distractions they’d rather not bother with.
This makes no sense. They spend weeks, months, or years creating the art but not ten minutes reflecting on how they’ll present themselves at its public debut.
They show up, stand around, smile, chitchat, schmooze with friends, sip wine, shake hands, endure the imposition, go home, and forget about it. You can do better than that.”
“But how? That’s all I was planning to do. Smile and chitchat.”
“Oh, there’s plenty of that. Plus I’ll introduce you to some influential people. It’s tempting to hang back in the shadows or fall back on your friends and people you know. But it’s important to push yourself out of your comfort zone.”
“Oh no. I’m not good at that.”
“Relax. You’ve already accomplished your two most important jobs for the night.”
“Really? Like what?”
“You got the artwork done and delivered on time. That’s number one. And second, you’re here, you’re presentable, and you’re prepared to stay the entire time.” She narrowed her eyes. “Wait… You are prepared to stay the entire time, aren’t you?”
Shit. Her deer in the headlights look must have given her away. “Of course! I wouldn’t leave unless…well, unless there’s an emergency.” Like a monkey crashing the show.
“If for any reason you need to leave, even for a bathroom break and a cigarette, find me first and let me know how long you’ll be.
That way, if someone wants to speak to the artist, I can tell them when you’ll be back.
Giving a vague answer is inconsiderate of their time.
And remember, anyone can show up at any time with any agenda.
Your duty is to be available or accounted for the entire time.
Remember, this is a commitment. And it only lasts hours, not days or weeks. ”
“It sounds like you’re thinking I could be discovered and become the next Peter Max or somebody famous.”
She shrugged. “Things like that can happen. That’s why you must make yourself available to the people you don’t know. You can see your friends anytime. And if some old gasbag wants to monopolize you, be discreet, but excuse yourself and mingle.”
She giggled. “How do I do that?”
“Just say something like, ‘Oh, I must say hello to a friend I haven’t seen in a while.’ You may have seen her yesterday, but saying ‘a while’ is truthful enough to sound convincing.”
Mallory nodded but still felt like she had no business being here.
Suddenly, another horrible thought occurred to her.
What if she was talking to someone she didn’t know and then was discovered talking to herself!
It hadn’t happened lately, but what if it did?
Oh God. She wanted to drop her head in her hands and cry.
“Basically,” Helen continued, “keep the traffic moving, keep conversations basic and answers short. That way, you maximize introductory opportunities as well as the potential to add to your fan base. Always speak in everyday language anyone can understand, especially when you’re talking to someone you’ve never talked to before. Don’t try to sound highbrow.”
Mallory laughed. “There’s little chance of that. I’m your garden-variety average American girl who happens to have a bachelor’s degree in fine art.”