He notices the tie.
A flirty smile spreads across his lips.
Handing his drink to a waiter, he passes me without saying a word.
Eyes forward, his hand drifts behind him as he walks, beckoning for me to follow.
I watch him disappear through the door.
The invitation couldn’t be any clearer.
Pausing to take a breath, I follow.
the fourth chapter
AMOS
Cameras weave effortlessly between conversations.
Servers glide through the crowd with trays of food and drink that never seem to run dry.
A parade of Brisbane’s elite move through the studio, admiring framed photos of my work.
That was Marco’s idea. I must thank him later.
Guests congratulate me on the launch, raving about how impossible it will be to book an appointment now that my art has been recognised by certain names.
The truth is, I find that part embarrassing.
Sure, I’m proud of myself for everything that has unfolded.
And it’s interesting to meet people from all walks of life.
But the name-dropping makes me want to hide under a table.
I’m not that sort of guy, really.
I couldn’t care less about fame.
I just love the freedom and autonomy of being my own boss.
Creating meaningful art and having the resources to do so.
So I’ll do my best to charm and woo, even though I’m an introvert at heart.
Marco has carried the weight of it.
Every detail tonight has been flawless.
Every guest made to feel welcome.
Every tiny crisis averted.
Someone spilled a drink near the front display? Already handled.
The lighting needed adjusting near the photography wall?
Marco was there before the photographer even set up the next frame.
