Page 22 of Zenith
I didn’t want my likeness hanging in a gallery for all to see, but there was nothing I could do about it now, not without revealing more than I wanted to. So, I held my tongue and said nothing.
“Rivers, darling!” A female voice echoed through the gallery, and I glanced over my shoulder to see a tall, elegant woman approaching us.
Her heels clicked on the polished concrete flooring as she walked toward us, her black dress hugging her silhouette, her blonde hair pulled back into a severe ponytail, and her lips painted a deep crimson, making the pallor of her skin appear flawless. I studied her closely, watching how she embraced Rivers close. Her arms remained stiff, her back held straight, and even though she kissed him on the cheek, it was cold and abrupt. There was no love between them, only business.
Rivers gestured to me, his gaze leaving the woman’s to focus on me. “Jane, this is the curator of Space Gallery, Anastasia Clemens.”
“Oh, this is your muse?” She took my hands and turned me, her gaze studying my person as if I were a prop in a stage production. “Yes, I see the likeness. Beautiful! You must be very proud.”
I wasn’t sure to whom she was talking, so I smiled hesitantly and glanced at Rivers.
“She is also very shy,” he said. “I’m afraid I did not inform Miss Doe about her portrait being hung.”
“You mustn’t be displeased,” Anastasia exclaimed. “It is magnificent! You, darling, will be the talk of the art world by tomorrow morning?.” ????????
I swallowed my anxiety and nodded. They did not seem to notice my apprehension and chattered between themselves, my presence fading into the background.
“Rivers, you must get Jane a glass of champagne to celebrate your combined success.”
“Of course, how remiss of me.” He turned and informed me he would be back momentarily, and the two departed, leaving me to stare up at my likeness.
All at once, I felt a chill pass through me, the ghosts of my past rearing their ugly heads to torment me. Jane Doe was not formidable. She was so afraid of the world she could not follow her own convictions. She was self-righteous, and look where it had gotten her!She was even afraid of being a millionaire.
Glancing around the gallery, I felt terribly alone. Was I only invited to attend so I could be shown off to prospective buyers? I was a figurehead for a collection I knew nothing about, and I was painted for a portrait that I did not know would be hung so publicly. I assumed the image had appeared in the catalog the gallery had produced, so there was no way of knowing who had seen it and how far it had been spread.Had Edward seen it? Would he come tonight?
I was trapped. Would I remain once the doors opened and allow myself to be used as a tool to sell Rivers’s work? Or would I run once more?
I could not. Not without doing the same thing I had done to Edward. Not without proving myself right and being the coward once more.
I stood in the center of the gallery, watching the caterers as they made their final preparations for the evening. I was a fish out of water, my presence completely out of place in this alien landscape.
I’d run from one hopeless situation and fallen into another.What had I done?
