AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Gemma introduced him as the curator of the museum. “Simon has been my mentor for many years.”
He waved his hands in disagreement. “I’ve done nothing for Gemma besides give her a job. The talent this young woman possesses is far beyond anything I could have taught her.” He switched his attention to me. “She is very special, as I’m sure you are aware.”
“Yes. Very special.” I nodded, and Simon smiled, seemingly pacified, before holding his elbow out to Gemma. “The mayor’s here. She brought Congressman Carey with her this time.”
She glanced back at me, gesturing with her head to follow, and we ended up with a small group of attendees. Witnessing Gemma hold court with the two government officials and fellow artists, I felt a little intimidated but mostly overwhelmingly proud. She spoke passionately about her work with the children, the importance of creative outlets available to them, and the need to keep art in schools. Simon invited the congressmen to meet the few art students who were present and volunteered Gemma to give him a tour of the museum.
She squeezed my fingers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think I’d be—”
“Do your thing. I’ll be fine.”
She kissed my cheek before escorting the congressman and mayor to the other end of the room, eventually lost in a sea of people. Grabbing a glass of water, I strolled around the exhibit, studying a clay bust, a few abstract paintings, and one very unusual piece of metal work. It was titled “A Mother’s Gift,” but it only looked like misshapen pieces of bronze metal to me. I rotated my head almost upside down. Maybe I was at the wrong angle. “Nope, still don’t get it.”
“What’re you doing?”
I stood upright at the sound of Cole’s voice. The kid from Gemma’s art class stood next to me in a suit and tie, and we fist-bumped. “Hey, buddy. Nice to see you here.”
“Yeah. I came over so people don’t think you’re weird, talking to yourself.”
“Good looking out, man.”
“Do you want to see my picture?”
“Of course. That’s why I’m here.” The little boy showed me to a wall with student work and pointed to a picture of a tree-lined street. It was no van Gogh, yet still pretty impressive for a ten-year-old. “Amazing. Did you do that with Miss Gem?”
“Yeah. It’s watercolor.” Cole proceeded to explain the process of painting it, and I found myself shadowing him as he spouted off about art class and Miss Gem. I saw myself in Cole, in the way he didn’t bother to breathe when going off on a tangent about a subject he loved, and how he bounced on his toes to reach for a high five. Just like I used to do with my dad.
Cole’s mother eventually collected him, leaving me to continue through the exhibit alone, searching for Gemma’s piece. Since she’d refused to show it to me, I had to rely on the plaques to find it, having no idea what she’d created. I located her name printed below a large charcoal drawing. I stood back, marveling at it.
She had depicted a portrait of young love. A man, looking suspiciously familiar, sprawled beneath a tree with a book in hand, his long legs crossed at the ankle. His head, covered with a mop of hair, was tilted up against the trunk, his eyes above him, focused on a woman, lying on a branch jutting out from the side of the tree. Her hair cascaded down her back in long waves, and one hand rested under her cheek, while the other dangled a feather above her lover’s head. Their faces expressed total adoration and contentment.
I pressed my hand to my heart, awestruck by the beauty of it. I had, of course, seen many of Gemma’s scrawling designs around her apartment, and I’d sat patiently while she sketched my eyes or hands, but the scene in front of me was truly magnificent in its simplicity of romance in black-and-white.
“You like it?”
Wrenched from my thoughts, I angled myself to the man next to me who I thought I might have met before. He wore a dark suit, and I was suddenly very aware that I’d forgone the suit jacket tonight. The man held his drink aloft in greeting.
“I do,” I said in reply to his question.
“Me too. I’ve gotten to know the artist a little, and I think this is one of her best pieces. Gemma Turney has a real interesting perspective. You know her?”
I eyed him. “I do. How do you know her?”
“I was introduced to Gemma last year. We went out on a few dates, but she ghosted me. Broke my heart.” He muffled a laugh, his eyes shining in a way that told me maybe he was still interested. That idea had me grinding my molars, especially when he said, “She’s quite a woman.”
It was then I remembered who this man was. “You’re the news guy. Colin Mann.”
“Yes.” Colin Mann, the local news anchor, had a head full of brown hair, perfectly straight, white teeth, a Hollywood tan, and a deep voice meant for broadcasting. “Nice to meet you.”
“Jason Mitchell,” I said, accepting Colin’s hand. “Gem’s boyfriend.”
We automatically sized each other up, standing a little taller, puffing out our chests. Colin was the first to break free. “You know her well then, huh?” He smirked and pointed to Gemma’s art. “Are you planning on bidding?”
“Of course.” I wanted nothing more than to smack Colin’s smarmy grin off his face. What a douchebag this guy was.
“Well, I hope you brought your wallet because you got yourself some competition for this one.”
The double meaning was not lost on me, and I excused myself to find Gemma. When I caught up with her, I latched on to her waist, kissing the skin behind her ear. The whole Bridget situation made itself perfectly clear. I’d been sympathetic to Gemma’s jealousy before, but I’d never fully understood it until now.
