Page 80 of Soul Mates: Hercules Valentine and I
An Hour Later
I step out of the cab, gazing up at the venue with amazement. The mirror-glass building is tall and brand-spanking-new. Not only that, but even during a cold evening with snow on the ground, a line forms down the wide set of stairs and up the long sidewalk. I held no expectations of what I would face upon arrival, but I sure didn’t anticipate this. I even find signage that verifies that all of those people are waiting to see LC’s show.
I check my watch. I’m on time, but Lake will never know that if I stand in line. Plus, I’m still exhausted. I won’t be staying long. If I enter later, I’ll just have time to say hello and congratulations and then leave. Unfortunately, that’s the most I can give Lake tonight.
Shoulders heavy, I decide to head to the back of the line and wait my turn like everybody else.I mean, is she really this popular?
“Lark Davenport?” a woman calls as soon I start toward the end of the line. “Lark Davenport? Is that you?”
I whip around to see who possesses the frantic voice. A small woman in black khakis and a coat with the hood over her head waves at me as she hugs a clipboard.
“It’s me,” I say, waving back.
“This way!”
What a relief.I pick up my pace and get to her as fast as I can. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a black SUV with tinted windows stop at the valet station. Then the rear door opens. Against my will, my feet come to a halt as Hercules Valentine emerges from the back seat.
What’s he doing here?
I can’t believeI stopped and stared at him that way. He’s looking at me. To rid myself of this embarrassing shock, I start walking again. I must make it inside before he does.
The girl with clipboard talks fast as she hands me a badge that says Special Guest. “Inside, make the first right. Pass the first set of elevators to your left. You’ll see a second set with a red rope. Give your name, and you’ll be given access.”
I get my feet moving before I finish saying thank you. I must not run into Hercules. I haven’t yet finished deciding how I feel about him being here.
Tonight was supposed to be stress-free. I sigh.Not anymore.
Once I’m inside, I catch a glimpse of him and Mason with clipboard girl. She’s all laughs and smiles. Good—at least she’s holding them up, giving me more time to escape.
Is that why he’s here—as Mason’s plus-one?
Finally, I’m alone in the elevator, riding up. I try to study my reflection in the glass, which has a nature scene behind it that makes it feel as if I’m in the woods. It’s a great effect but makes it hard to check out my appearance. I bet I look flustered.
“Damn it,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut, trying to forget how I stopped and stared at him like an idiot. Hercules probably thinks I’m a basket case with a schoolgirl crush on him. Lilith would never have done that.
The doors slide open. I slap a hand over my mouth and gasp into my palm. Displayed high on the wall at the front of the room is our painting from last night.
My steps are slow as I take in the painting while moving toward it. The closer I get, the more it appears as if Lake has changed it somehow. I keep my focus on the piece as I pass people. The space is large and so damn crowded.Seriously, is she the only star of this show? If so, I don’t get it. Why would she work for VTI if she’s this popular in the art world?
I stop behind a group of people viewing the artwork. This is as close as I can get. I can now see that some portions have a barrage of tiny1s and0s on them. The characters are meant to be electronic bytes, and they look as if they’re shifting with my body movements. I’m in awe as I take in the entire piece. What she has done is so interesting. She actually traced over the paint with a substance that looks like ashes. Even without the bytes, I can recognize which parts are my work and which belong to her.
“Wow,” I whisper.
“Hey,” Lake says in my ear.
I jump and turn toward her. “Oh gosh, you have to stop doing that,” I say as we hug. As soon as we let off each other, I point to the painting. “What in the world, L…?”
“Betty,” she says, cutting me off as she taps her nametag.
She’s wearing the same black suit that all the staff people are wearing.
“Betty?”
“Yes.” The crowd parts for us as she takes my hand and guides me to the painting. “Isn’t that LC talented?” she asks loudly. “For every show, he or she does a self-portrait with a friend or two, and people try to guess which one is him or her.”
“I think LC’s a man,” a woman says, thumbing at a guy next to her. “But he says he’s ashe.”
Lake lifts her eyebrows. “Or athey. And what about the friend?”
