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Mya
That was the most erotic thing I had ever done. I wasn’t talking about the sex we had in the dressing room—although that was seriously hot and nothing like I had ever done before. I was talking about the photoshoot.
Having Alex’s hands all over my body—teasing me, tempting me—had driven me wild. That was why I had invited him back to the dressing room. I would have made fun of someone doing that at any other time in my life, but I couldn’t help myself. I wanted the man, and I wanted him bad.
It was fantastic news to hear that Alex had backing now, and we could move ahead with planning this new coming out party. I had a feeling Douglas Wiseman would come forward; he had an eye for artists, and I had worked on another opening that he sponsored.
Rebecca dropped us off at a Mexican restaurant not far from the office, and after we were seated and had ordered, I found Alex staring at me.
“What? Do I have something on my face?”
“Only beauty.”
I laughed at him. “Funny.”
He grinned. “So what happens now? Can you tell me that?”
“Sure, Milt will have a couple more people join our group, and we will plan the show. Douglas will meet with you, see what you have, and discuss what you will display and at what price. Of course, he will get a percentage for being the host, but it’s a small amount, usually only five or six percent. He will give you a featured area in his gallery and display your work for at least a month after the show. It has to remain there, or you become in breach of contract, but Douglas has a fantastic gallery, and it gets a lot of foot traffic.”
“Alright, and then what?”
“Well, if you do well there, he might give you your own wall. Or, at the very least, offer you a few nails to hang select pieces. Many other gallery owners and private collectors will be present, and you might even get invited to do a show with one of them or hang a piece or two to test the responsiveness with their clientele.”
He shook his head. “You know, my old manager kept telling me that I wasn’t ready for a show. He said he kept trying to get me in places, but no one would take me.”
I didn’t want to say anything that would upset him, but he had brought it up. “Do you think that he was possibly using you?”
“I do not doubt that he was,” he said as he sat back in his seat. “He was always asking me to invest more into myself, and he would take the money, but I never saw a return. He helped me sell a few pieces, but they weren’t much.”
He tapped his thumb for a second as he glanced around the restaurant. “To be honest, I have no clue what my artwork is worth.”
“You don’t?” I was surprised. “What did your other pieces sell for, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The most I made on a piece was about four grand.”
“Four grand?” My jaw dropped. “Are you serious?”
He frowned. “Why? Do you think that is too much?”
I laughed, “Holy crap, Alex! No! That’s way too little! That asshat that was managing you sucked—plain and simple. Some of those pieces that I saw in your portfolio should go for at least twenty to twenty-five thousand.”
“What?” He stared at me like I was crazy.
“Alex,” I reached over the table and put my hand over his. “Your work is excellent. It’s incredible, and people will pay good money to buy one, or even commission you to do a special portrait for them. God, if you did that, you could charge fifty thousand or more.”
His brows jumped almost to his hairline. “Fifty thousand?”
“Yes. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Yes.” He pulled his hand away from mine. “I’m not worth that kind of money. Nothing I paint could be worth that.”
Oh, Alex, who made you feel that you were not worthy? Was that your ex-wife? Your manager? A parent?
“You might not believe it coming from me, but ask Douglas his opinion when you meet with him,” I countered.
“Yeah, I think you are a little off. I’ll make sure to ask him.”
“You do that,” I replied, as our food arrived.
