Another tedium-loaded sigh. “It means it’s not enough to create an effect in the viewer. It has to reflect, consciously, upon the art—” She stopped abruptly. She leaned toward Magdalena in an intimate, confidential way. “Actually, do you mind if I ask you something? What’s your relationship—how do you know your friend Dr. Lewis? Somebody was saying he’s a prominent psychiatrist… pornography addiction or something?”
Magdalena didn’t know what to say. She was his girlfriend? They were just friends? She worked for him? At this moment, it didn’t matter. The main thing was, she was directly in the line of vision of the Russian, Sergei Korolyov. Should he suspend his interest in his own tablemates long enough to look at her, she wanted him to see a young woman who was happy… to the point of merriment… engaged in a confidential conversation at her table, obviously a part of her crowd, whoever they were, perfectly comfortable in the mental atmosphere of VIP lounges… and the inner circles of the Art Basels of the world—in short, a beautiful creature who belongs, who is at home where things happen.
“Oh, I work for him,” she told A.A. “I’m a psychiatric nurse.” Sounded better than plain nurse.
“And so he just invited you to Miami Basel for the VIP opening?” said A.A. “Nice boss.” She looked into Magdalena’s eyes with an insincere, insinuating smile.
::::::Bitch! What do I say to that?!:::::: Her brain digigoogled for an answer and simultaneously wondered if she looked as flustered as she felt. After too long a pause: “I think Mr. Fleischmann got the VIP passes. He’s so-o-o-o generous!”
“Yes, he is,” said A.A. “So anyway, Dr. Lewis—”
“And he really trusts your judgment,” said Magdalena.
“Who does?”
“Mr. Fleischmann. Anybody could tell that!” Magdalena was willing to try anything to steer the conversation away from Norman. And thankgod! flattery brought a sincere smile to this woman’s English-bobbed face.
“I hope so!” said A.A. “You know, he really did very well today.”
“I wish I knew half as much as you know about art, Marilynn. A tenth as much. A hundredth as much. I have to admit, I’d never heard of Jed Doggs before today.”
“Jeb,” said A.A.
“Jeb?”
“You said ‘Jed.’ It’s Jeb Doggs. He’s beyond ‘emerging artist’ now, and I think he’s beyond ‘rising star,’ too. He’s made it. He has real traction. I’m very happy for Maurice… and he’s going to be very happy when he sees what an upward trajectory Jeb Doggs is on.”
::::::I’ve done it! I’ve pushed this vain bitch off of me ’n’ Norman and onto herself.::::::
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Korolyov turning away from the others at his table to look ::::::not at me:::::: at something over there. As he turned back, his head stopped in mid-arc. ::::::He’s staring straight at me… he’s still staring… still staring!::::::
Magdalena couldn’t play it cool any longer. She broke eye contact with A.A., even though AA’s lips were still moving. She looked straight at him. A.A. was looking straight at her. ::::::But I have to take the chance!:::::: She put on a smile that was meant to say, “Yes, this is me, the girl whose hand you held too long!… and yes, you are welcome to do it again!”
Korolyov smiled back in a way that said to Magdalena, “Oh, don’t worry. I will.” And he kept that smile on his face for several beats too long. Magdalena compressed her lips in a way meant to say, “I’m bursting with emotion and anticipation! Please hurry!”
Korolyov turned back to his tablemates… and A.A. said, “Friend of yours? Sergei Korolyov? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t think of any other nurse who knows so many heavy hitters. I’m not implying anything, but I notice you and Fleischmann are Magdalena and Maurice”… another insinuating smile.
::::::I’m so stupid! Why did I have to tell her I was Norman’s nurse? Why did I even have to say “nurse” at all? Why didn’t I just say, “Oh, we’re friends”… and let her take that any way she wanted? Now I’m going to have to say, “Well, I do work for Norman—but we also date.” Date! These days date is a euphemism for fuck. Stupid! Stupid! But that’s the only way out! A.A. has her face stuck right into mine. Now she’s got this—this poisonous look on her face, and she’s arching her eyebrows in a way that says, “Okay, why are you taking so long? I asked you a simple question. What are you trying to