Page 3 of Mercury Rising
Mercury panned the camera over to the black structure. “He’s even brought his own tunnel of focus,” Mercury continued. “I wonder if you get one per purchase or if you have to collect the set.”
He switched the camera toward himself.
“Also, how shit is the art if you need to see it in a darkened room? Stay tuned—Mercury is doing this so you don’t have to.”
Mercury chuckled to himself as he finished recording and posted it onto his socials.
“You’re mean,” Lotty said. “You haven’t even seen it yet.”
“Call it a premonition.” Mercury put his phone in his back pocket.
“Come on, we’re meeting Bobby in an hour. It’s all go today.”
Mercury slung his arm over her shoulder. “The life of an influencer, eh? I think I might need another drink before we do this.”
“You’ve recovered well from last night.”
Mercury winked at her. “I always do. You know that.”
Luckily, a handsome waiter stood behind a table full of wine. Mercury drained his glass and approached.
“Red or white?” the waiter asked.
“Oh, red, I think,” Mercury replied. He placed his glass on a nearby table. “Lotty?”
“White for me. I only drink red in the winter,” Lotty said.
Mercury took a glass from the waiter. “Here’s to crap art.”
They wandered over to the entrance to the tunnel. Mercury nodded at a few people he had seen before. He’d grown up as the son of one of the country’s leading film stars—a lot of people made the effort to get to know him.
Some happy individual had decorated the entrance to the tunnel with black leaves. A young man with greasy black hair and a scowl stared at his phone. A sweating woman with a clipboard stood next to him.
“Mercury Morrison and Lotty Hampton.”
As the woman checked her list, the man stared up. “Are you the dickhead who thinks my art is shit?”
Mercury took a step away. “I don’t think I said that. I presume you’re Grim.”
“Fucking right I am.”
He appeared fit to burst.
“I haven’t even seen it yet,” Mercury said. “Calm yourself.”
“Fucking rich kids. You think you’re so superior, don’t you?”
Mercury burst into laughter. It echoed around the room, causing people to stare.
“Take a look around you, Grim. This is the Tate Modern, for fuck’s sake. Everyone is rich.”
The clipboard woman ushered them in.
“What a dick,” Mercury said.
“Let’s do a quick circuit and go,” Lotty replied. “He must be constantly checking his own name on insta. You only just posted it, for goodness’ sake.”
Mercury shrugged. “Imagine being so touchy you’re vanity scrolling instead of enjoying the big moment. Weird.”
