She introduced me to the guest she’d been chatting with, an early-thirties male with a man-bun and one of those lumbersexual beards. I did a quick check of the condition of his shoes and fingernails. These days, it was getting harder to tell who the potential buyers were.
The hipster excused himself to look at a piece, and Josephine leaned into me, furtively. “I assume you got your package.”
“I did. Thank you.”
“He wanted to surprise you. You have no idea how difficult itwas to not mention it all this time. And the look of disappointment on your face when you realized it was sold…”
That Saturday night in July, at theSmoke; and Mirrorsopening, I’d noticed a mark on our master list indicating the piece had been purchased. When I asked Josephine who the buyer was, she threw out some name I’d never heard.
“… I so wanted to tell you then.”
“I’m glad you didn’t.”
“So,” she said, sipping her Pellegrino, “I guess this means theAccess Hollywoodthing is true? I mean, you don’t have to say anything. But he’shere. And that piece was fourteen thousand dollars.”
“I know how much it was. Thank you.”
“And then that video in the Hamptons…”
I froze then. “What video?”
“TMZ. It’s not… It wasn’t a big deal. Just footage of him in an SUV with his bodyguard. And you’re in the back. You’re turned away from the camera. It’s fuzzy, and you can’t see your face, but it’s your hair, and I recognized your dress. The white one with all the little buttons up the back. I love that dress.”
I stood there for a moment, unable to speak. The idea that we, that I, had been caught. We weren’t even doing anything. And I felt guilty.
“No one’s mentioned it,” Josephine said eventually.
I nodded, slow. “I appreciate your discretion. Get the guy with a bun a drink. He may buy something.”
They had not moved very far. Although the number of guests who had gravitated to Hayes’s general vicinity had appeared to multiply, the girls were still surrounding him. They had positioned themselves strategically beforeSexWax, Joanna’s nod to Warhol’sCampbell’s Soup Cans. The canvas featured a brazen image of the popular surf wax with its iconic logo. “Mr. Zogs Sex Wax,” it said. “Quick Humps, The Best for Your Stick.” Lovely.
As I neared them I could see Rose tossing off a joke with herattitudinal stance, and Hayes laughing, and I feared where their conversation had turned.
“May I borrow him for a second?” My voice sounded off to me, the side effect of my worlds colliding. The revelation of TMZ. I just needed to get through the night.
“Hayes, I need to introduce you to someone. Ladies, I’ll bring him right back. Promise.”
Hayes excused himself graciously and followed me through the crowd.
“Sorry about the girls.”
“Oh, it’s fine. They’re very sweet. She’s very sweet, your daughter.”
“Yes,” I said. And then: “I hope you’ll remember that when we’re breaking her heart.”
“Oh bollocks!” he said, which actually made me smile. “Very much looking forward to that. All right, so to whom am I being introduced?”
“No one. I just wanted you to myself for a little bit.”
“Ooo, that sounds naughty.”
We made our way into Gallery 2, which was marginally less crowded. I could see the artist, Joanna, across the way, radiant and ebullient, a vision in a black minidress. She was laughing loudly, the crowd in her hand.
“Okay.” My attention returned to the boy a half step behind me. “Just look very serious and act like we’re talking about art.”
“Can we talk about this dress?” He smiled.
“No.”
