anything about contemporary American art… anything… you have to talk to Marilynn. She’s been a tremendous help today. She saved the day! A.A…. Sergei Korolyov.”
“Oh, I know!” said A.A., standing up and taking Korolyov’s extended hand into both of hers. “This is such an honor! You’ve given us—Miami—our first art destination!”
Korolyov chuckled and said, “Thank you. You’re much too kind.”
“No, I mean it!” said A.A. “I was at the dinner that night at the museum. I hope you know how much you’ve done for art in Miami—those gorgeous, gorgeous Chagalls!” ::::::Gushing all over the man, monopolizing his attention, showing off… Oh, those gorgeous Chagalls!… and I don’t even know what a Chagall is.::::::
A sudden dreadful thought ::::::Maybe it’s A.A. he has come over to meet in the first place. Look at her! She has his hand in hers—both of her hands—and she won’t let go!::::::
Magdalena studies his face for clues. ::::::Thank God! He’s giving A.A. nothing but room-temperature formal politeness.::::::
Meanwhile, Maurice is rigid with impatience, both elbows locking his arms into right angles at waist level… frustrated by this interruption in his obligatory round of introductions. Finally he cuts off A.A.’s gusher by saying in a loud voice, “—and Sergei, this is Dr. Norman Lewis. You’ll remember Norman from the other night at Casa Tua?”
“Oh, yes!” said Korolyov. “Someone at our table said that she had just seen you on television. You were talking about—I’m not sure what she said.”
“Hello again, Mr. Korolyov!” Norman was very cheery. “I’m not sure which show she was talking about, but probably addiction. That’s usually the subject.” ::::::Usually… which show… probably!… Have to get across the fact that you’re always on television, don’t you, Norman!:::::: “I have the hopeless obligation to tell people there’s no such thing as addiction, medically. They don’t want to believe that! They’d much rather believeaahhhHAHAHAHock hock hock hock—believe they’re sickkahHAHock hock hock hock!”
Maurice didn’t want to linger on that subject. He hastened to direct Korolyov’s attention to Magdalena.
“And you’ll remember Magdalena, Sergei.”
“Of course!” said Korolyov. “I remember very well.” He extended his hand; and she hers. He held her hand for far too long without saying another word. He gave the same look he had given her from his table, the same message, except that this time he poured great gouts of it into her eyes… before saying, “It’s very nice to see you again” in a perfectly uninflected, polite way.
Then he turned back to Maurice and reached into an inside jacket pocket. “Please, let me give you my card. I don’t know anything about contemporary American art. I just read about it… Jeb Doggs and so on…” ::::::Does he already know about Maurice’s “triumph” somehow?:::::: “… but I do know a bit about nineteenth-century Russian art, and early twentieth century. So if there’s anything I can possibly help you with… and let’s keep in touch in any case.”
He extended a card toward Maurice, and Maurice took it. He extended one toward A.A. and she took it… Oh, thank you so much gush much gush gush much. Korolyov extended one toward Norman, and Norman chuckled, stopped short of a hock hock hock hock outright laugh, and took it. Then Korolyov extended one toward Magdalena and she reached up, and he slipped the card down past her fingers and placed it upon her palm and pressed it into her hand with his fingertips, anchoring them with his thumb on the back of her hand, and poured gouts and gouts and gouts of himself into her eyes ::::::for far too long!:::::: before turning away.
And that bit with the card ::::::Now I know… That didn’t just happen!:::::: the serotonin was flooding her bloodstream, with no chance of uptake anytime soon. From that moment on she began to plot plot plot plot concoct concoct concoct concoct some way to see him again.
Norman hadn’t noticed anything unusual. But Maurice’s lust antennae must have quivered, because about ten minutes later he said, “Have you met Korolyov before?”
“Only the other night,” she said, straining to keep the tone offhand, “when you introduced me.”
Sergei Korolyov—he was so gorgeous!
11
Ghislaine
Finding a long-sleeved shirt to cover up those famous—they were literally in the news today—those famous Nestor Camacho muscles of his took some doing. But it had to be done. Then he remembered a checked flannel shirt he had stuck away on the shelf in the closet he and Yevgeni shared. Obviously a long-sleeved shirt made of flannel with a dark check design was not not not the ideal choice