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“Meelee, are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here. Joshua Lars?” I repeated as a streak of anticipation rocked through me. “Where? When?”
“Sheecago. It will be his first exhibit in five years, Meelee. Is this not the best news I could give you? I want his art, Meelee. You will go for me and purchase them. Yes?”
“Of course,” I replied absently. “An open exhibit? When? Do you know the date?”
“I have all the information you need. That is why I called.” He all but purred in my ear.
“Why haven’t I heard anything about this?” A flash of irritation ignited within.
“It is private. Joshua is only giving this treat to his special customers. And I, of course, am his special customer.”
“Indeed, you are, Abbas. How do I get an invitation?”
“I will see that it is arranged for you. Now, listen carefully. You must buy it all for me, Meelee.”
I choked back a snort. “Surely, you realize they won’t let me purchase everything, your Majesty. I don’t know yet how many pieces he’ll have up for sale.”
“There are many pieces, Meelee. I have sources that tell me this. Joshua has….how do you say? Ah…hibernating since the death of his wife and daughter.” Abbas spoke softly, as if honoring the artist’s loss.
“Which gallery in Chicago? And when?” Yanking open the drawer of my nightstand, I shoved my over-worked vibrator aside and snatched out a pad of paper and a pen.
“Christian Joyce Gallery. Thursday. Next Thursday, Meelee. At seven o’clock,” he informed.
Christian, you little son of a bitch! That prick hadn’t breathed a word of this to me. Oh, his frilly little princess ass was all mine!
“Thank you, Abbas. I actually know him. I’ll call him when the gallery opens and make sure I’m put on his guest list. Unbelievable,” I whispered, trying to wrap my head around the unprecedented news. “I’ll start making arrangements right away. Is there a monetary ceiling you’d like me to stay under?”
“Oh, Meelee. Money is insignificant.” For Abbas, it was. The man had more money than he could spend in ten lifetimes, and wouldn’t that just suck? “No limit. Abbas will pay any price.”
“I understand.”
“My heart thanks you, Meelee.”
“You’re welcome, Abbas. I’ll call you from the gallery with a total.”
“No need. I took the pleasure and wired money to your account so you can purchase many treasures for me, Meelee. You will keep the rest. It is to show you many thanks.”
I almost choked in astonishment. “Thank you, Abbas. That is overly generous of you.”
“That will make me pleased. Now, one last question. When will you come to me and be one of my wives?”
I snorted. “We would fight day and night, Abbas. I don’t like being told what to do. Besides, I’m lousy when it comes to sharing my man with others.”
“But I would make you feel like my one and only, Meelee. You have a special place in my heart. It would be an honor to own you.” His voice teemed with seduction.
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. Being part of a harem held as much appeal as a sardine milkshake. “Good night, Abbas. I’m going back to bed.”
“Dream of me, Meelee.”
“You know I will.” I chuckled and hung up.
Wow! Joshua Lars is out of seclusion. I shook my head. This was going to knock the art world flat on its ass.
Climbing out of bed, I padded to the bathroom before making my way to my office to boot up my computer. Four hours and two pots of coffee later, I called Christian. With a saccharine sweet chastising, I busted his gay little balls for not informing me of Joshua’s comeback. Christian was contrite in a whining-groveling sort of way. After vowing he’d never leave me in the lurch again, along with a promise to overnight an invitation, I accepted his apology and hung up.
Five minutes later, I had my airline ticket booked; however, finding a room proved more of a challenge than I’d expected. Every metro Chicago hotel was booked for some stupid festival. Squandering another two hours perusing design articles online, I finally picked up the phone.
