Page 4 of For the Love of Art

Lianne cocked an eyebrow at me. I knew she was worried. She had been since the day I told her Don and I were separating. I did my best to give her a smile that conveyed I was okay, but we both knew the truth.

“And done!” Lianne said as she hung up her apron.

“Thank God,” I responded, turning off the light in the display case.

Lianne held out my purse, and I grabbed it on my way out the door. I waited patiently as she locked up the shop before we began down the busy sidewalk.

“I hate crowds,” Lianne complained as she twisted her body to avoid walking into someone.

“You live in the wrong place, then.”

I grabbed Lianne, pulling her closer to me as a kid whizzed by on a skateboard, nearly taking her out.

She groaned, and I chuckled.

Lianne straightened herself out, and I shoved my hands in the pockets of my jeans. The rain from the night before had cleared in the early morning hours, and the sun beat down, making art with the shadows of buildings and people alike.

“I have the latest copy of New York Art Life,” a voice to my right startled me.

I smiled when I saw Herb, an almost seventy-year-old man who sold magazines from a stand, beaming at Lianne and me. He began to stand, but I shook my head, helping him back into his seat.

“It’s okay, I’ll grab it,” I told him.

I took the magazine from its spot while Lianne scanned the gossip columns she read religiously. My smile turned down when I saw who they featured this month.

“Nathan Manning,” I mumbled.

“Who’s Nathan Manning?” Lianne asked, leaning over my shoulder.

I opened the magazine to his spread, which contained far too many photos of him, in my opinion.

“He’s an up and coming gallery owner. He owns a really fancy one over on the west side.”

My eyes scanned the article quickly.

“He’s hot!”

I scoffed. “Really? Rich white guy does it for you?”

“Look at him,” Lianne pointed her long finger at his picture.

I mumbled a few annoyed words in Spanish.

Lianne clicked her tongue and continued, “Even you can’t deny that his chiseled jaw and the muscle lines coming out of that tightly buttoned shirt aren’t hot as fuck.”

Lianne bit her lip as her eyes continued to look over the spread.

“He’s a notorious playboy,” I informed her. “In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t run into him in your little gossip magazines.”

“I only read about the A-list celebrities. Also, if he’s a playboy, then boy, come play with me.”

I closed the magazine, then reached into my purse and pulled out some single bills for Herb. “Here you go.”

Herb took the money with a smile. “Thanks, Isla. See you next month?”

“You know it.” I smiled at the older man before continuing down the street, Lianne following closely behind.

“You love art,” Lianne said when she finally met my pace. “Why not see if you could hook up with him?”