Mismatch - By Nana Malone Page 0,28
Once she sees my work, and that I’m sellable, I’ll tell her. We'll tell her.” He amended quickly. “I’ll have had a chance to prove my work is good. She'll see that I’m more than just a flash in the pan performance artist, and I’m someone to take seriously.”
Eli ground his teeth. The idea of Jessica and Sam working together in close quarters didn’t exactly fill him with the warm and fuzzies. “No, Sam.”
Sam mimicked him. “Yes, Eli. Come on, she's perfect and you know it. You vetted her yourself. You've been talking about me getting my second chance for two years. I finally have that chance. I can’t do anything to fuck it up. And that includes telling her we switched places. It'll piss her off, and I think we both know what she looks like pissed off. I fuck up, and I lose my chance for God knows how long. She's got a big name in the industry and can trash me anywhere.”
Shit. This was the last thing either of them needed. Certainly the last thing that Eli needed, but Sam had a point. If Jessica found out before Sam could prove his bankability, she'd drop him. “Fine, but I want you to keep your fucking hands off of her.” As much as he loved his brother, Sam was like an alley cat when it came to women.
Sam winced. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”
Eli sighed and nodded as he picked up his magnifying glass again. Trying to diffuse the tension, he asked, “Did you need me for anything else?”
Sam studied him for a long moment before shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it on a dining room chair. “I can’t just come over and see my brother?” His stomach grumbled as if in an attempt to belie his sincerity.
Eli raised an eyebrow. Sam never just popped by. He always came over to use Eli’s laundry or raid his fridge. It was one of the reasons Eli didn’t keep any booze in the house. “You make enough money to stock the studio with food, so why don’t you? Not to mention, I even hired someone to do the grocery shopping for you since I know you forget when you’re painting.”
Sam shrugged. “I have food. Just none of it is cooked.”
Eli rolled his eyes. “You know where everything is. There’s fettuccini, broccoli and chicken in the fridge. I made it last night. Try not to make a mess.”
Sam didn't wait to be told twice. “God, you know how to make an artist sing, don’t you?” As he grabbed a plate and got to work, he nodded at the dining room table. “What are you working on anyway?”
“Just this case.” Eli rubbed his jaw as he stared at each painting.
“Yeah, I gathered that. What's that case?”
Eli hesitated. Given Sam’s past this wasn’t the kind of thing he really wanted to discuss with him. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Oh c’mon. Maybe you need a different perspective.”
Eli debated what to tell him. “This case of forgeries across the country. These millionaires will acquire priceless artwork and have it authenticated and insured, only to come back from an extended vacation and realize it's a forgery. Sometimes they don’t figure it out for months, if ever.”
Sam tapped his fork on the black granite countertop as he waited for the microwave. “What kind of art?”
“That's the thing, no rhyme or reason. We’ve got some classics with a Picasso or two. We’ve got some modern pieces. We've also got some pop art pieces. Hell, we even have some sculpture and jewelry.”
“How are they switching the pieces?”
Eli narrowed his eyes. “Don’t know.”
“How many forgers are you dealing with?”
He crossed arms wondering where Sam was going with his questioning. “Why all the questions, Sam?”
Sam shrugged. “I’m trying to help. You see me work all the time. I never get to see what you do.”
Eli answered cautiously. “Again, don’t know, but given the skill level, I’d say one. From what we’ve seen of the paintings, these guys are good. They’re aging the canvases expertly; the technique is near perfect; there’s nothing out of place. To the untrained eye, there would be no way to know. I mean they faked a Picasso twice.”
The microwave beeped, and Sam dragged out a heaping plate of steaming fettuccini. Around a hot mouthful, he asked, “What’s the signature?”
Eli frowned. “I just told you there isn’t one.”
“Check again. I know I couldn’t help myself. I had to sign my work. Mark it somehow.”
Eli worked his