They made a funny pair. The top of her head barely reached his chest, and she was clearly unimpressed that he towered over her and weighed at least twice as much as she did.
Tristan finished his cigarette like it was the last one on earth, enjoying it to the last drag. He and Frankie headed back inside together, but James held me back from following them.
He cupped my face, smiling down at me. "Since I have you alone, I wanted to tell you something; I'm really proud of you. You already know that I'm your biggest fan, but I just wanted you to know that tonight was a huge accomplishment. I know you have yourself convinced that I did all of this for you, but it's just not true. I set up the meeting. That was all. The second Danika saw your work she was smitten, and you would have had this showing with or without a connection to me. Those paintings sold because people wanted them, and found value in them. You have a talent that brings me to my knees. Thank you for sharing it with the world."
"Thank you," I told him simply, feeling my eyes get just a touch moist. The damned man made me so emotional. And he had a way with words that got me every time. "I love you to distraction, James."
His eyes smiled into mine. "Yes. I love you like that. The world went from black and white and into color when I laid eyes on you, my love. There'll be no going back."
It was such a perfect moment that I had to beat back those evil doubts in my mind that told me something this perfect just had to come to a short, bad end. Life can just be good, I told myself. This bad feeling is not a premonition. Nothing bad will happen to us. I'd had to tell this to myself a lot lately.
Towards the end of the evening, Tristan bought my largest landscape and a smaller still-life. Frankie bought a painting as well. It was a watercolor of the fat cat from my yard. She said she was going to put it up in her tattoo shop for the world to see. She even harassed James that he should give her the portrait of me that had inspired the tattoo on his back. He took it well, which told me he'd forgiven her for the tattoo on my back.
Sven bought one of my small acrylic paintings of a desert flower.
I insisted repeatedly that he didn't have to buy anything.
"I want to," he told me firmly. "It would mean a lot to me to have something that you made hanging in my home, and I love this picture."
"I'll paint you something for free! You shouldn't have to pay thirteen grand just for a reminder. It's not too late to change your mind."
He shook his head. "No. This is perfect. Though, if you ever want to paint me something, I certainly won't dissuade you!"
It warmed me and embarrassed me a little that everyone was being so supportive.
As the night grew to a close, I felt giddy with the realization that I'd actually enjoyed myself. The evening had far exceeded my expectations. My nerves hadn't allowed me to look forward to the launch of my new career, but I loved that I could look back on my debut with relief and pleasure. It was over, and it had actually been a success.
There was a small blemish on the evening, as we took our leave of the gallery.
The gallery was a large three-story building, set up in a trendy area and situated adjacent to the Cavendish L.A. hotel and sharing a back parking lot with that property. We exited out of the front, where we had entered. A small red carpet had been set up outside for photo ops prior to the event. A fairly polite crowd of photographers had snapped shots of us going in. A larger crowd had gathered by the time we left, very late into the evening. I was surprised they'd waited so long. And even stranger to me was the crowd of bystanders gathered behind them, just watching for our departure.
James maneuvered himself closer to the crowd, though there was a barricade that separated them. He threw an arm around my shoulders, his opposite hand moving to the diamond hoop attached to my choker.
We had made it maybe six steps when there was a collective gasp from the crowd, and I turned just in time to see Blake jump a few inches into the air and catch a large plastic cup in her hand mid-air. The lid of the thing flew off, and dark soda and ice went flying in every direction, but it was still an impressive catch. It had been aimed at either James, myself, or both, but not even a drop of it reached us. Blake was drenched. She looked unperturbed about her own wet shirt and face. She threw the cup on the ground and scanned the crowd, a very hostile look on her face.
It was as though the drink throwing had opened a floodgate. People began to shout lewd comments in our direction. I couldn't make them all out, but the loudest comments seemed to be coming from women, and aimed at James.
"You are so fucking hot!" a woman shrieked.
"With a dick that huge, you can spank me anytime!" another one shouted.