Page 28 of Art of Love
“Again, you wouldn’t have remembered.”
“I remember you coming into the bar and us going to the sofa area to drink.”
Well, at least she remembered that. “What about sitting in my lap?”
She winced and sat back. “No.”
“That was the best part.” It was.
“How nice for you. Anyway, I’m pretty certain I’d remember if you told me something like that, about your grandfather.”
“You didn’t tell me you were an artist either,” I pointed out. It was strange how we both talked about everything except what we loved most.
Maybe it was because everything else was problems. Obstacles that were in our way. The irony in that was, now we both stood in the way of each other.
Same dream, one job.
“I don’t know why I didn’t say anything. I had a lot on my mind.” Her gaze dropped momentarily to the square patterns on the wooden table, then returned back to me.
“Me too. But to answer your question, my grandfather died five months ago, and he made me promise I’d fulfill my dreams. I always did what everyone else wanted me to do, and now I’m not. You? How comes you left?”
She got this rigid look, and a wealth of sadness filled her eyes. “I had some personal issues come up, and I had to leave.”
I held her gaze. She’d spoken about her niece the other night, and I wondered if it was anything to do with her.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She’d said she had to work two jobs to give her niece the opportunity to go to college and that dirt bag Bane stole all her money. He was the main subject of our conversation.
“Anyway, enough about me.”
She hadn’t exactly told me anything for there to be enough, but hey, I’d play. At least we were talking.
I looked her over, running my gaze over the delicate bone structure of her elegant neck and the grace she carried herself with. Very swan like. The way a dancer moved, or an artist who was at one with herself and creativity. In my head she looked like a work of art herself, but she’d probably have my head if I told her that.
I had an idea. One she was going to hate.
“Jia.” I pulled in a deep breath.
“Yes, Hunter.”
“What if you were the exhibit?”
“Me?” She narrowed her eyes at me.
“Yeah. The idea to woo the guests could be ourselves, or an object. We’ve
established that John might prefer us to do something, and we’ve established that just one of us should probably do it for that first hour. I think it should be you.”
“And what would I do, Hunter Kane?” She blinked.
“Be a living work of art. We could do something according to the theme of the shows, or just one of them. Maybe the first show as we’ll only be doing this project for six weeks. Juliana’s show is calledDark Fantasies of Water,and she’s filled it with mythical sea creatures. What better way to upstage a show than with a similar sort of idea?”
She laughed, and it was the daintiest sound. “You want John to have our heads for practically stealing ideas and trying to make them look better than the main attraction?”
“It’s not stealing, and what I’m suggesting is doing something similar, but our style will be different.”
“So, for Juliana’s show you want me to dress like a mermaid or a fish.”
“Something like that.”
