are mostly as lost to me as the names of the artists who created them, but they’re beautiful to look at and I’ve learned a little in the time I’ve known Gary.
“It’s just a white square on top of a black square,” I said to Gary once.
He chuckled over my shoulder and explained, “That’s minimalism—oil on canvas—and I just sold this piece for one hundred thousand dollars yesterday morning.”
Gary sends art to Hush since I won’t give him my home address. I have a closet at the apartment full of paintings collectors would love to own, mostly from up-and-coming artists. I’ve asked him many times to give the work to someone who’ll genuinely appreciate it. He insists they’re mine and if I want to get rid of the art, I’m to do it myself.
When I’d see a new painting in Inez’s office with a letter from Gary explaining who the artist is with an art description, I thought he was doing it to culture his whore. Over time, I’ve come to accept that he’s a lonely gentleman without family and friends to share his love of art free and clear of motive. He gives paintings to me because I think they’re wonderful, not because I’m interested in stockpiling coveted pieces.
“I thought you were going to be late,” Gary says when I emerge from the women’s restroom.
He waits for me in front of a contemporary art piece that’s painful to look at, not only because I simply don’t understand the appeal, but because the colors cast across the canvas look how I feel inside: messy.
Gary must have been gorgeous when he was younger, because he’s a good-looking older man with snow-white hair and gray eyebrows. There’s not a person on this planet with better posture than him, and every movement he makes and word he speaks is deliberate.
He doesn’t expect a response from me, so I remain quiet until he instructs me where to go and what to do. We’re often alone during our appointments, so worrying about an employee watching too carefully isn’t a concern. Sporadically, a newly hired intern will look busy by making phone calls or following leads online. They never last long, unable to handle Gary’s general disinterest in people and his particular work ethic.
Unless you’re here to suck his cock.
“Wait in my office, please.” He presents a set of keys from his front pocket and goes to the gallery entrance to lock the door.
Admiring art isn’t on the agenda today. The colors are vague, the patterns make my head spin, and the taste of whisky resurfaces on my tongue tinged with mint. Heaviness settles in my joints, and the tight ponytail isn’t enough to keep me from looking like the walking dead. When I see the black mat Gary likes me to kneel on in the center of his office and my stomach heaves, I know this was a mistake.
My shoes pat on the marble floor as I cut across the space, dropping my purse in its designated spot before taking my place on the mat. My knees immediately protest, and I play with the idea of lying flat against the cold marble when Gary arrives.
He walks in circles around me with his hands clasped behind his back. Just as cold as the floor, his facial expression doesn’t give a hint about his mood. Anticipation, disapproval, and indifference look the same on him. The only time I’ve seen him smile is when a piece of art catches my interest and we discuss his interpretation of it.
Our time together never differs. I arrive, kneel on this mat in his office, and take him into my mouth before he fucks me doggy style. His routine is easy to respect given that before Talent, mine was just as stringent.
“I like your hair down.”
While Gary inspects my appearance, I wonder if Talent feels as badly as I do. Is he sitting in a meeting with regret for the previous night like I am? The universe does have a disgusting sense of humor. It wouldn’t shock me if he woke up after a few hours of sleep in tip-top shape, while actual liquor seeps from my pores.
“Cara, if you’re sick, you should have rescheduled.” To my surprise, Gary’s tone is sympathetic, and this might be my last chance to talk my way out of our appointment without ruffling any feathers. No harm done if I allege food poisoning and return in a day or two when I’m back to myself.
The glimmer