Chapter 4 #5
“Emma,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye. Then he repeated, “Which piece is your favourite, Emma?” And the way he said my name made my body turn to molten lava.
I took a deep breath, glancing around the room, trying to formulate my thoughts into a response that wouldn’t make me sound as uneducated as I felt. From the corner of my eye, I could see him regarding me with fascination and curiosity.
“I think all the art here has a lot of merit. Some pieces are truly stunning. I particularly like the modernist approach of some of them. The reflection on today’s society and how we see ourselves, like a window to our souls.”
He grinned knowingly as he shook his head. “You don’t have to give me the generic newspaper spiel. I want your honest opinion. An answer that comes from the heart. Just tell me, Emma, which one stands out to you? What piece of art makes you feel something?”
The waiter reappeared with a tray containing Alex’s whisky, and he took it, sipping thoughtfully, then he tilted his glass towards me and asked, “If money was no object, which one would you buy?”
I could feel sweat gathering on my upper lip as he looked at me, waiting for a response.
The little black dress I wore suddenly felt too tight, too restrictive.
I was worried about saying the wrong thing and making myself sound stupid.
Stalling for time, I cleared my throat, as I felt every pair of eyes boring into me.
Then I glanced at the others, the room around us now back in focus and blaring loudly, making me feel self-conscious.
Our circle had stopped talking and they were watching us, waiting for me to speak.
And just like that, my tongue felt too big for my mouth.
“Don’t worry about them,” Alex said, moving to stand right in front of me, blocking the others out. “Falstead wouldn’t know good art if it jumped up and slapped him round the face. He still has the Athena Tennis Girl poster framed on his wall at home.”
“Oi,” Tobey chimed in. “Everyone loves that poster. They always talk about it when they walk through my front door.”
“It’s certainly a talking point,” Alex mused. Then he turned to me and said, “There is no right or wrong answer, Emma. Honestly. Just pick one. I’m interested to know what you really think.”
“The heart,” I blurted out. “Although I would love to see what other art Tobey has in his collection,” I added cheekily and they all laughed.
I turned to face the wall with the S.K.A.M. graffiti art on it.
“That one speaks to me the most. Follow your heart,” I reiterated.
“Because how can you follow your heart if it’s in pieces?
Which part do you follow? Because it all matters.
Everything attached to each fractured part.
And I think, maybe, the artist is trying to explain that we all feel torn in life, between duty, family, work, friends, caring for the environment, being the best person we can be, but always feeling as if we’re failing, because we can’t follow every part.
We can’t be all things to all people. And everything is so splintered, broken and shattered sometimes. How do you fix it?”
“You can’t,” he replied softly, moving closer to me. “It’s impossible to fix a world like ours. But if we can be the best possible version of ourselves, to be something to someone, doesn’t that make everything worthwhile?”
I nodded, unable to form words after he’d just given me such a perfect answer.
We stood for a moment in silence, and then he glanced to the side, where a podium with a gorgeous flower arrangement stood. He reached out and took one of the pale pink peonies from it and handed it to me.
“Here’s to being somebody’s someone,” he said, and feeling dumbstruck, I took the flower, glancing at it before peering back up at him.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to take these,” I said, my eyes wide, like a child caught stealing cookies from the cookie jar.
He leaned closer. “Who’s going to stop me?” He winked, and the flutters I’d felt exploded like fireworks inside me when I felt the hint of power and dominance he was radiating in that moment.
He held my gaze, a slow almost predatory smile spreading across his handsome face.
Then he turned to Lloyd, and gestured to the ‘Follow You Heart’ piece.
“I’ll take that one,” he announced. “Have the papers sent to my assistant and arrange for it to be delivered to my Wintshire home.”
Just like that, he was buying it.
The art that I chose.
Because of me.
“Of course,” Lloyd replied, unable to hide the satisfaction of what his commission would look like after selling that piece so easily.
Alex turned to face me. “Will you be watching the live performance?”
“I’m not sure.” I twisted the stem of the peony in my fingers and looked across to Lloyd.
“She’s here to write a piece for the newspaper,” Lloyd stated. “Of course she’s going to see our star performer.”
“Then I can’t wait to read your article,” Alex said, ignoring Lloyd and focusing on me. And then I felt the brush of his hand against mine as he moved closer, and the whispered stroke of a finger as he smiled. “I know it’ll be amazing.”