Page 22 of Taking Turns

It’s called Backstage. And when we are done with the installation, the entire gallery will look like the backstage of a ballet theatre. There are seventeen life-size bronze sculptures of ballerinas. Eight women, four men, and five children. Plus life-size sculptures of the stage hands and everything else that goes on behind the scenes.

This Thursday night will be one of the biggest nights this gallery has ever seen. And it’s going to run for three months, so actually, the Charles Benton gallery might never be the same after Matisse leaves his mark on Denver.

We are going to sell every single piece. I know it. I’ve had my eye on two of the children for months. They are laughing, their expressions frozen in happy excitement.

I’m going to put them out on my back courtyard.

Matisse leaves around ten PM, convinced that we know what we are doing, and then says he’ll be back in the morning to help with installation. He has seven crews coming in tomorrow morning to get things set up. Charles always handles the actual installations, which is why I have these two days off each week. But maybe I could just pop by?

It would be better than sitting around at home, at least.

It’s well after midnight when we get the final crate down into the pre-stage area. My shoes disappeared hours ago. I don’t even know where they are at the moment. My assistant, Michell, left around seven, but Kathryn is still here. We both slump onto a couch in the employee lounge, beat.

“I want to sleep right here,” Kathryn says, pulling her feet up and leaning into the tufted sidearm of the couch. She pulls her hands under her cheek and closes her eyes.

“Me too. You can come in late tomorrow,” I say.

“Fuck that.” She laughs softly, eyes still closed. “I’m not missing a moment of this.”

I smile. “Yeah, I was thinking of coming in tomorrow too. It’s kind of a big deal, right?”

“So big,” she mumbles.

“Hey,” I say, slapping her leg. “You have a ride home? I don’t think you should drive when you’re so tired.”

Her phone buzzes just as the words come out. “That’s my chariot now. Jason is picking me up.” She reluctantly pulls herself into a sitting position and then stands, her hands on her lower back as she stretches, then beams a smile down at me. “It was a great day, Chella. We’re gonna rock this shit on Friday.”

“Yeah.” I laugh, watching her gather up her things and head towards the back door. “We just might do that.”

When she’s gone, I sit there for a few more minutes, thinking about how life has changed in the past two days.

I got fucked by Quin Foster. Smith Baldwin drove me home last night. And I had more than a dozen work-related conversations with Matisse today.

I go looking for my shoes, which are on the stairs leading up to my lift office in the gallery, and I’m just putting them on when I startle from a knock at the front door.

There are two men out there. My heart skips a beat, wondering if they will try to break in, but when I look closer, I realize it’s Matisse and Smith. “What the hell?” I find my keys in my jacket pocket as I walk over to the door, then unlock it and open it up. “What are you guys doing?”

“Would you like to have dinner with us?” Matisse asks. “I don’t think you ate, did you?”

“No,” I say, hesitantly. “I was just about to go home. I don’t think anything is open right now.”

“I know a place,” Smith says.

I stare at him, knowing what he means, but not quite understanding what he’s after.

“Come on,” Matisse says. “We’ve got a car right over there.” He points across the mall to the dead-end street corner where vehicular traffic is allowed. “And we’ve got a table. They’re expecting three.”

“I’ve got my car,” I say, stunned at the midnight offer.

“We’ll bring you back to your car,” Smith says. “When we’re done.”

“I’ve got to lock up,” I say.

“We’ll wait out here,” Matisse says, motioning to the steps leading up to the front door.

I think about it for a second. It’s not exactly what Rochelle planned. Or what I agreed to. But it’s damn close. “OK,” I say. “Give me five minutes to shut things down and I’ll be right back.”

They both smile. They smile like wolves.