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“Up and coming?” Macom replies tightly. “Not many people call me up and coming.”
“Ah well, they will, I’m sure. Hang in there. You’ll be a Chris Merit in no time—who is a big fan of Faith’s, by the way.”
Macom’s lips tighten. “So I hear.”
“On another topic,” Nick continues, “I should say thank you. Aside from the fact that you lost Faith, which led her to me, I love chocolate. Faith and I ate that shit up.” He glances at me. “Didn’t we, sweetheart?”
Considering Macom looked at me like he wanted to lift my skirt, clearly baiting Nick, I don’t so much as miss a beat. I look from Nick to Macom. “Yes, thank you. The chocolate and the flowers were lovely. And it was unexpected, considering our last communication.”
Macom’s lips twist wryly. “That was interesting, but something tells me this night will be as well.” He glances at Josh. “I need you at the stage in forty-five minutes.” And on that note, he leaves.
Josh exhales. “Holy hell. Let that be it. Awkward, fucked up, but done.” He pins me in a look. “Head to the second level. That entire floor is the party. At eight o’clock, there will be a ceremony, at which time they will announce the top new artists of the year. And I’d tell you that might be you, but I won’t see your work until I walk up those stairs.”
“It’s displayed tonight?” I ask, suddenly anxious.
“Some of it. Each year, the show’s top two executives pick the top three pieces for each artist. No one is allowed to see those picks in advance.”
“Isn’t Macom a part of the board in some way?” Nick asks.
“He is,” Josh says, “but his role is more public show than anything. He didn’t get a vote on entries, and he didn’t get a vote on the winner that will be announced tonight. He does most likely know the winner, as he’s presenting the award. Which, unfortunately, means it’s not Faith. If it were, he’d have told me.”
I didn’t even know about the award. I didn’t hope to win, but that announcement still cuts.
“Well, as far as I’m concerned, her accepting that award from him would be poetic justice for the way he put himself above her.”
Josh declines to comment, which isn’t a surprise, since Macom is his biggest client. “You’re already a winner tonight,” he says to me. “I need to handle a few things. Go upstairs. Drink. Eat. Revel in this night. In half an hour, I’m going to find you, and you will come with me. We will meet some powerful people you need to know.” He leaves.
Nick turns me toward the lobby, his arm around my shoulder. “You okay?”
“You loved the chocolate?”
“I’d love it better melted and on you, so I could lick it off. Let’s decide that’s going to happen sometime this weekend.”
I laugh. “You’re so damn bad, Nick Rogers.”
“In case you didn’t get the memo, I’m not a nice guy. You think Macom noticed?”
I laugh, and we’re about to head up a winding set of stairs when a couple in their late fifties to early sixties, and in casual wear, steps in front of us. “Nick Rogers,” the man says. “Holy hell. It is you.”
“David,” Nick says, shaking his hand before looking at the woman. “Elizabeth.” His hand returns to my back. “This is Faith.”
“Nice to meet you, Faith,” they both murmur.
“What brings you to L.A.?” the man asks. “Playing shark, or what is it, Tiger?”
“Actually, Faith is a gifted artist who’s in the L.A. Art Forum.” Pride fills his voice and warms my heart. This man supports me. He loves me. Life is good, and Macom is a blip on the screen.
“Oh my,” Elizabeth says. “You’re an artist, Faith? That’s why we’re here. We’re going to the public event tomorrow. I can’t wait to see your work. We love to discover new artists.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I’d love to have you view my work.”
“And with that,” Nick says, “we have a party to celebrate her art tonight.”
“Understood,” David says. “But as a quick side note, we’re actually considering taking our company public. We’d like to have you on board.”
“That’s a conversation for Monday. This weekend is about Faith.”
“Of course it is,” Elizabeth says. “We will see you tomorrow, Faith.” She touches my arm. “Good luck.”
