Page 163 of Forgotten Comeback
My head thunks the back of the booth.
This is my fantasy, with my fantasy girl I didn’t even know I needed.
As promised, we both see stars.
Together.
Epilogue
Taylor
Effie follows me around the studio as I give it a final once-over.
“Hors d’oeuvres, champagne, and sparkling water in the back.” Effie points out, and I smile politely at one of Inferno’s club employees behind the table. We walk to the front of the gallery, with another employee working security. “The guest book and your artist statement as soon as guests enter.”
My artist statement is painted in red, the letters dripping down the wall like blood.
Taylor McKenna casts dark, thought-provoking narratives. Her paintings invite the viewer into her nightmarish landscapes, with subjects ranging from the tangible problem of affordable healthcare to the intangible darkness of mental health challenges. Violent. Jarring. Seductive. Welcome to Crazy, Reimagined.
“Thank you again for helping me with my opening.” I didn’t take Lily’s suggestion of asking Valentina Parisi for her party planning services. I’m not sure where everyone stands in that fucked up family dynamic, and my opening wasn’t the time to find out.
“My pleasure. I’ll be milling about this evening, ready to ring up any sales.”
I blow out a nervous breath. “As long as I make at least one sale, I’ll be happy.”
“Nonsense. You will sell out; mark my words.”
Effie excuses herself, and Gavin appears with a hammer in hand.
“Need anything else adjusted?” Pretty sure it’s the hammer Mike used in his ringside entrance, but there are some things I don’t need to know.
I shake my head. “No.” If I make one adjustment, then I’ll have to make ten more.
“I’m only loaning out my art collection,” Gavin warns. “Anyone tries to take my paintings, they’ll be picking up their teeth.”
My muse has his own wall, punctuated with the Round signs.
Madness’s Muse.Still one of my favorites.
The Spider.My sketch of the spider with gold rings for eyes. And yes, I did finish it with my mouth open, ready to devour him.
Abstract Expressionism Meets Jealousy.Cum and green paint explode from the mythological creature’s mouth.
The Champ.And my latest painting for Gavin, a bloody fighter in the ring. He’s wearing the championship belt while he slams shut the door to ghosts of the past.
“That’s what those red dot stickers on the painting titles mean. They’re not for sale.” I wrap my arms around his neck,smacking my lips against his. Pulling back, I examine my handiwork. “You have red on your lips.”
“Mmm, my favorite color,” Gavin agrees.
“Like the monkey suit, but where’s your bowtie?” I ask.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He wags his eyebrows.
My eyes land on his crotch, and he chuckles, pulling the bowtie out of his pocket. “Good luck, baby.”
The doors open, and I get a little teary-eyed at so many people here to support me and my art.
I spend hours chatting about my pieces with various collectors, enthusiasts, and a few fellow artists. “Such an interesting medium. What is it?” someone asks aboutMadness’s Muse.
