‘Fifty-five million!’ I spat. ‘For that? Did you see it? I could have painted it!’
Russo crossed his arms defensively. ‘Well, actually, what you’ve failed to acknowledge is what a fine example it is of quintessential late-cubist deconstructionism. It’s a visual manifestation of the emotional dissonance that the world of the time was suffering from. It’s not a painting of a woman, it’s a painting of the actual experience of looking at a woman through the lens of acute existential dread.’
‘Uh . . .’ was all I could manage.
‘Yeah, I didn’t see it, but when I do, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,’ Cam said rather facetiously.
Russo scowled. ‘You’re all the same, no taste or appreciation for art.’ His sudden outburst caught me by surprise, but the other people around us didn’t look surprised at all. In fact, a few of them were rolling their eyes, and some were even smiling. Russo glared at McKinley. ‘And don’t think I didn’t hear what you said on the phone earlier. Becauseno, your niece couldnothave painted it, unless she has a PhD in symbolist semiotics and a deep, melancholic case of despair, which is something I have right now.’ Then he turned and strode out of the room.
McKinley turned back to us with a smile. ‘Don’t mind him. He’s just very passionate about his work. And apparently we’re all “philistines”.’ He gestured air quotes.
‘Utter barbarians too,’ someone else added with a chuckle.
I looked around the room again, and that was when something began to dawn on me. ‘So wait. That means that . . . everything’s over?’
‘Yep. Everything’s over,’ McKinley said.
‘You mean, there’s nothing left for us to do?’
‘Nothing left,’ he confirmed. ‘You’ve done what needed to be done.’
‘So we just wake up and what?’ Cam asked. ‘It’s all neatly wrapped up?’
‘With a big bow on it. You can relax now and go back tonotpretending you’re engaged and in love – stroke of genius, by the way.’
‘To . . . huh?’ I shook my head in confusion.
‘Your fake relationship,’ McKinley said. ‘Good undercover work. If you ever want a place at theFBI, our door is open.’ He smiled and turned away.
‘Wait,’ I called after him. ‘It’s seriously all over? Done?’
He nodded. ‘Just kick back and relax now. Look where you are. We can debrief when you’re back in South Africa, but for now, enjoy the island.’ And with that, he was gone, followed by the rest of the suits.
Cam and I looked at each other. ‘We have nothing left to do here,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘It feels wrong. Like we should be doing something, right?’
‘We should. So what now?’
‘You heard the man. Relax.’
‘Yes, and stop pretending we’re engaged and . . .’ I paused. I wasn’t sure I could say the next words out loud. Something about them felt odd.
‘In love?’ Cam asked, a brow raised in my direction.
I looked at him and nodded slowly. Something was vaguely penetrating my brain, a thought that was far away right now but seemed to be creeping nearer.
‘Well,’ I said eventually.
‘Well,’ Cam echoed. ‘So that’s it then, all over?’
‘Guess so,’ I said.
‘So now that we’re not pretending to be married, are you going to kick me out of the marital bed and send me back to my boat?’
‘Yeah, I suppose I am. I mean, I should, right?’
He shrugged. ‘That’s up to you.’
