It is likely I had never seen Lulit’s eyes as wide as when I walked into the gallery with Swagger Spice. I had not warned her or the others. It was the day before our July opening, and I knew they’d be swamped with detailing the show. I did not want to give her something else to think about until he was already there.
Her jaw dropped and she moved to fix her hair, which was in a perfectly messy topknot. She was in jeans and no makeup and she was still flawless. Her enviable brown skin that would not age.
“You’ve brought …company.”
“I have.” I smiled, wide. A whole conversation transpired between us then without a word spoken. “Hayes, this is my partner, Lulit Raphel. Lulit, Hayes.”
“So this is the famous Lulit. It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard plenty about you.” Hayes’s voice sounded particularly deep in the cavernous space. Gravelly. As if he’d been up eating pussy until four in the morning. Which, indeed, he had.
“Lovely to meet you, Hayes.”
“God, this space is brilliant.” He began walking around, admiring the layout, the art. The juxtaposition of Cho’s atmospheric images and James’s emotional landscapes. Both abstract, more metaphoric than literal. Smoke and mirrors.
“You want a guided tour, or you want to wander on your own?”
“I want to wander first.”
“Okay, I’ll be in the office. It’s toward the back, off to the right.”
Mattpopped his head out from his office in the rear, and Josephine exited the kitchen as I was approaching.
“Who is that?” Matt raised a wily eyebrow. “Client? This early?” It was not quite ten.
“Potentially,” I said.
Josephine headed out toward the reception desk, sipping from her mug of green tea, and then very quickly turned around and headed back to us. “Holy shit, is that Hayes Campbell? Is he a client now?” Josephine was twenty-four.
“Who’s Hayes Campbell?”
“Only like the hottest guy in the hottest band. In theworld. Where have you been?”
“In my thirties, clearly.” Matt smirked. “What band, now?”
“August Moon,” Josephine whispered. “Holy shit.”
“The boy band? Those adorable posh boys from Eton…”
“Only one went to Eton,” Josephine said matter-of-factly.
“Who went to Eton?” I asked.
“Liam.”
“He did?” This was news to me.
“Yes. And the others all went to a posh school in London. Except for Rory, he’s the bad boy.”
“You know all their names?” Matt asked.
“All whose names?” Lulit joined us in the kitchen and made a beeline to the espresso machine.
“August Moon. Our newest client is from August Moon.”
Lulit threw me a seemingly casual look, and I shrugged in response. She understood: she was not to say a word.
“Well, I’m going to offer our boy band visitor some Pellegrino,” Matt said, grabbing a small bottle from the fridge. “We’re being rude here.”
“Forget it, you’re not his type.” Josephine swiped the bottle from him.
