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her face a neutral mask. This wasn’t her first time sitting down
to an awkward interview or getting asked a rude question.
Actually, she expected it. For the past ten years, she’d been
asked that question, even if it was directed at her silently by a
curious stare covered by a fringe of lowered lashes. Others
asked it outright, boldly, judging her with every look they gave
her. Only the very brave ever questioned the authenticity of
her relationship to her face. The rest were cowards, hiding
behind a computer screen and a few lines of text.
“So, you’re telling me that all couples who have an age gap
are in insincere relationships?”
Amanda didn’t so much as blink. “I’m not saying that, no.
I’m asking you specifically. You met at your first show. It
featured shots of urban decay and graffiti from around the city.
Not hard to come by in Los Angeles.”
“It was more than that.” Adalynn’s voice was carefully
glacial, shot through with hard steel.
“Oh, yes, that whole thing about the plight of the homeless.
Trying to double up, be a journalist and a photographer.”
“No.”
Amanda shrugged. “Anyway, you were a no one with no
name to speak of. You knew someone who knew someone
who had gallery space for rent for a song. You weren’t chosen.
Your work wasn’t special.”
“Pierre would have disagreed.” And he would have. He also
would have had a great time tearing down this caustic
journalist with his own special brand of kindness. He had a
gift, a way of disarming even the most hostile people. Even
when he wasn’t trying to be kind, he was. Adalynn knew she
possessed no such talent.
