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“Thanks, Sabrina, I really appreciate you telling me.”
“Sure,” I say. “Is Ethan still coming today?” Ethan has been a tad distant over the past month. Granted it’s his brother’s not his gig but Ethan was the one bent on getting things moving at breakneck speed right after the Century Gallery exhibition, so his recent withdrawal is surprising.
“Not today, he's not. He sends his apologies. Swamped with work. Ethan’s sure you’ve got this in the bag though.”
“I suppose he’s a busy man. And to be fair, he’s put everything in place so I can't complain. What about...” I hesitate. “Jordan? Will he be attending tomorrow?” I hold my breath, hoping for a miracle. Perhaps a natural disaster affecting just him.
“Oh, he’ll definitely be here."
The universe does do me any favors anyway.
"I’m not supposed to say because they’re anonymous," Grant lowers his voice, "Jordan is donating a few of his art— drawings and sketches mostly. I expect the pieces will get a lot of attention because he's very talented.”
“Really!” Jordan draws? “Which ones?" Some of the art for display tonight had been sourced by Ethan for donation to charity and I asked Dalia to have a look through and select the pieces that best fit tonight's theme. So apart from Grant's work, I haven't had more than a passing glance over the other pieces.
“I can’t say.” He makes a zipping motion across his lips.
“Oh come on Grant! You can't leave me hanging after telling me something like that. Besides, I should know. I'm hosting the event!"
He shakes his head, smiling. "Jordan wants to remain anonymous"
"Okay, fine. How does he sign them? Surely you can tell me that."
He considers it. “I can't. But I'll give you a hint. Now I’m not sure which ones exactly were donated or how many, but Jordan tends to mar his work. He creates a mark of imperfection on everything he does.”
“Wow.” I’m floored. “Okay. That’s so...deep.” I fight the sudden insane urge to run to the room where we’ve kept all the artwork and tear through all the carefully wrapped pieces to scour for the ones that inspire ‘Perfect Imperfection’.
Jordan. I remember how unhealthily obsessed I was with everything about him. His looks, his body, his hands, his smell, his voice, his intelligence and eloquence, his self-assurance, his kindness. For four months, all of my existence was centered on one single thing. Jordan Farrington.
Well, I’m glad that obsession is behind me now.
Grant continues to watch as Dalia talks with the guy. They’re laughing now.
“Would you excuse me, Sabrina?”
I smile. "Of course", I thought you’d never ask.
Grant leaves me and makes a beeline for Dalia. I watch the duo with giddy excitement out of the corner of my eyes while I speak to other people. You could cut the chemistry with a knife. They’re talking and there's eye contact. Lots of it. After about fifteen minutes he leaves. I suppose he needs to let her work. Her eyes find mine across the room and she returns my questioning look with an ‘I have no clue’ shrug.
Well, I do girl. I think our man here decided to pull a finger out and grab what’s right in front of him.
When everyone has arrived, we begin setting the pieces in their final places. It takes a few hours but by midnight, our exhibition hall is finally ready. Dalia and I are the last to leave, wanting to observe the pieces and see how they interact in real life, mounted and lighted, and to go through how to best present each piece of art.
I know the real reason I stayed back. Even after Dalia leaves, I stare at those sketches with tears in my eyes, loving them so much I know there’s no way in hell anyone else but I will be presenting Jordan’s artwork.
Chapter 9
Sabrina
I step into Empire for the second time in twenty-four hours and despite having seen this exact setup only a few hours ago, I’m enthralled by the cozy and expensive-looking atmosphere.
We’ve maintained the dim lighting evident in the nightclub, but all the pieces are backlit in a way that draws the audience into the soul of the art.
I can't help being drawn again to the centerpiece, a large sketch of a woman sitting on a bench. Her dark hair is gathered to one side and pulled over her shoulder, exposing her naked back. Her head is tilted so only her ear is visible in profile and it is impossible to say if she’s turning to you or away from you. The top of her head is intentionally, messily blurred out and so is her buttock area. But the parts in between are incredibly detailed. She has a tattoo on her exposed shoulder that reads ‘regret nothing’.
I wonder if she was just a model or if she had an affair with Jordan. It's certainly an intimate sketch.
“It’s breathtaking isn't it?” I’m startled by Dalia’s voice behind me and whirl to face her.
