Page 215 of King of Pain
I feel Ant squeeze my hand, and when I glance at him, he’s smirking too.
“God, I love your brain,” he mutters.
“Wait until you see level two,” I tease.
Just then, I spot Liz weaving through the crowd, heading straight for us in a pristine white pantsuit that screams elegance with a side ofbadass. Her hair is twisted up in a French knot, and as she gets closer, I spot something glinting on her lapel.
A gold pin.
No—wait.
I squint.
Is that a…?
“Oh my God. Is that a Rubik’s Cube?” I say as she steps up.
She opens her arms and pulls me into a hug, pressing the side of her face against mine.
“I’m so fucking proud of you,” she murmurs into my ear. “Murph is pissed he couldn’t be here.”
I laugh and lean back, keeping my hands on her elbows. “Thank you, Liz. Seriously. For everything. This whole thing kind of fell in my lap, and I appreciate how rare that is. Especially in this world.”
She smiles, her eyes sharp but warm. “Maybe so, but if you didn’t have the talent, I wouldn’t have put my gallery or my name on the line. Believe that.”
I drop my gaze, a little bashful now, but her words hit hard and settle deep. She believes in me. That matters more than I ever expected it to.
Then she turns to Ant.
“Ah,” she says, voice dropping an octave into a kind of reverence. “The muse.”
She wraps him in a hug, and Ant hugs her back, eyes a little wide.
When they break apart, she looks around, gesturing to the space. “It’s stunning, isn’t it?”
Ant nods and works his throat like he’s trying to find the right words. Finally, he says, “It’s one thing to see them all stacked in a spare room,” then he sweeps his hand around the room, “but tosee them properly displayed, up on a wall with perfect lighting, is another thing entirely.”
Liz gives a knowing smile. “Yes. Yes, it is.”
She turns to me again, businesslike now. “I wish I could stay with you boys for the whole walkthrough, but duty calls. I’ve got collectors to charm and critics to avoid.”
I pull her in for another quick hug. “Thank you again. For everything. Truly.”
She squeezes my arm. “You’re welcome. I’ll grab you later when it’s time to say a few words.”
I nod, and just like that, she’s off—swept into the crowd.
Acrowd.
I stand there a moment, watching the pulse of people moving through the space—gathered around pieces I painted. For a second, it’s almost too much.
As if he knows, I feel Ant’s hand in mine again, steady and warm.
“Come on,” I say, turning toward the first neon-lit painting. “Let’s go see what level one has in store.”
TRACK SIXTY•FIVE
You Make My Dreams Come True
