pleased, but instead she felt slightly uncomfortable. When it came to art, uncomfortable was good. Wasn’t that what she told her students? That an artist couldn’t run from the things that made them squirm if they wanted to grow.
She clicked through a few more photos until her finger paused on one in particular.
The photo had been taken at a wedding. The little flower girl dress made that clear, just as it was clear that Mike had not been aware that anyone was taking a picture of the moment. The caption below read, Our videographer saves the day when Abigail suddenly decides she doesn’t want to take part in the wedding. Whatever he said, it worked. The picture itself was shot of Mike sitting on the floor in a dark suit next to a six year-old girl in a pink satin dress. The girl had clearly been crying, but had the hint of a shy smile as she looked at a single white rose in Mike’s hand.
Rori wanted to sculpt it. True, the piece would be nothing new under the sun, but as an artist, she needed to know that she was capable of capturing such an intimate and authentic moment of connection.
Connection.
Wasn’t that what brought life to anything? To everything? Few things were so fundamentally simple while simultaneously remaining elusive.
Connection. She could definitely build an exhibit around that.
Without hesitation Rori sent the update to her agent.
Chapter 30
“Knock, knock,” Fredrik’s coy voice called out as he poked his head in Rori’s front door. “I heard an anti-social artist lives here?”
Rori sent him a smile and motioned him in. “You’ll thank me when it comes time for the exhibit and I have actual pieces to show.”
He stepped into her flat, his professional clothes exchanged for the rockabilly fashion he preferred. “There is that. But, my dear, it is the weekend. Time to unwind. To let loose. To imbibe with the natives. Surely your worldly travels have taught you at least that much.”
Rori taped another photo to the wall. “As fun as that sounds, I need to work on my theme.”
“Nuh-huh,” he drawled, coming closer. “Is that why the wall looks like I sublet this apartment to a teenage girl going through a hormonal phase?”
Rori narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’d be wise to think twice before poking fun at a hormonal girl.”
“Preaching to the choir, girl,” Fredrik said, taking a closer look at the wall and honing in on the picture of Mike, Luke, and Kris that Rori had printed off. He pulled it from the wall. “Yummy. Anyone you know?”
“Yes. The guys are all straight, though, sorry to say.”
Fredrik wiggled his eyebrows. “Everyone says that… until they don’t.”
“Uh-uh,” Rori said, snatching the picture away and putting it back on the wall. “We straight girls have to keep a few of the hotties for ourselves. Besides,” she pointed to Luke and Kris. “These two are getting married.”
“And the other?” He pantomimed a gasp. “No, don’t tell me this is the boy who has you twitchy!”
The question caught her off guard, and Rori’s hesitation to answer became her answer.
“Mmmm. It is. Sexy!”
“He is that,” she conceded. It would be beyond futile for her not to acknowledge Mike’s looks to a gay man. “And he’s coming to the exhibit. I was going to talk to you about that, actually. He’s a videographer and he wants to film the event so he can turn it into a working vacation of sorts.”
Fredrik looked back at the photo. “And if I say ‘no’ he won’t come?”
“No. He only comes to work—and I want him to come because I want to sculpt him.”
He let out a little hmmph. “Well, tie my hands why, don’t you? Normally I would quash that idea real quick, but,” his bottom lip puckered out. “He’s so cute.”
“Your call,” Rori said. “It hadn’t occurred to me that it might be an issue, but if it is, I’ll let him know the offer is off the table.”
Fredrik arched an eyebrow at her, his look coy. “Not going to fight for him, hmm? Well, that’s interesting. But don’t worry. No fight required. I already decided to green light him. He and his fine ass are in. And you’re going out tonight. I won tonight’s wager in the gallery by betting that the artist and his mother-in-law had a thing on the side. I’ve got money to burn, and I want to burn it on you, my little minx.”