“Could be, could be something else. What he’s about is pretty much up to you.”
A glance around told him this wasn’t a modern art exhibit. Grant wasn’t going to say it aloud, but he would never understand the appeal of modern art. Personally, he found the entire movement to be pretentious. Someone made a mess on a canvas and called it art, while everyone else, bent on being seen as cultured and intelligent, eagerly swallowed the whole thing. A bit cynical, but he’d take a landscape any day.
“So we’re supposed to interpret it,” Grant finally said.
“That’s what I’ve been told. I’ve seen some of his work before, and it is beautiful.”
His eyes were drawn to the nearest portrait on the wall, the space in front already crowded with exquisitely dressed people. A dirty sidewalk, littered with trash, and some dark, probably foul liquid in the gutter. From a dark gash in the sidewalk, grew a flower. The plant didn’t look very healthy to Grant’s eye, but it was growing all the same.
“I think I see what you mean,” Grant told her.
Lydia brightened. “Oh, look, Champagne.”
Sure enough, on a long table sitting just by the entrance, several flutes of Champagne waited to be scooped up. Personally, Grant would have preferred a good cold beer over Champagne, but he wasn’t going to turn his nose up at it. They each took a glass, sipping as they silently watched the crowd of people.
“Sparkling wine,” he told her after a drink.
“What?”
“It’s sparkling wine. I’ve had Champagne, this isn’t it.”
“Are you getting snooty on me, Grant?”
He let out a low chuckle. “No, I just know the difference. Plus, I’d be happier with my feet up on my porch and a Heineken in my hand.”
“Salt of the earth, gotta love it,” she teased.
“Aren’t you supposed to be here to look at art?” he asked her wryly.
“I’m here to dress up and feel pretty. And maybe mingle with the high and mighty to feel special.”
Grant raised a brow. “So tell me, how did you get tickets to this?”
“Oh, the director and I go way back.”
“Really?”
Lydia beamed. “She wasn’t always part of the fancy shmancy crowd. She came from a poor little neighborhood, just like me. I went for nursing, but she went for art. Told her it was a bad idea, but look at her now, running one of the best art galleries in the city. She sure showed me.”
“You bet I did,” a new voice said.
Lydia’s eyes widened. “Emily!”
Grant had to give Lydia credit, she kept the sound of her joy to a relatively soft squeal. It still drew attention from the nearby people, but neither she nor Emily seemed to notice. Lydia shoved her glass into Grant’s hand and quickly wrapped her arms around the brunette’s neck.
“Oh, this looks amazing!” Lydia proclaimed.
“Thank you. Heaven knows it felt like it was bordering on a disaster leading up to it,” Emily told her, holding her smile.
“Oh, no. Why is that?”
“Oh, you know, artists. They can be...well, they’re a unique bunch.”
Grant kept his smile hidden by taking a drink from his Champagne flute. He didn’t personally know any artists, but the woman’s words were laced with enough weight and meaning that they probably would have sunk if thrown in the bay.
“Well, it still looks amazing, and everyone seems to love it,” Lydia told her.
“Well, thank you.”
Lydia turned to Grant. “Emily, this is my date for the night. Say hello to Grant.”
Emily’s eyes lit upon him. “Oh! This is the doctor you’ve been tormenting for months.”
“I have not been tormenting anyone!”
Grant chuckled, taking her hand gently. “Good evening. I’m so glad my and Lydia’s reputation precedes us.”
“Well, hers does anyway,” Emily said with a sideways look toward her friend.
Lydia sighed. “I should have known this would be a mistake.”
“Has she tried setting you up?” Emily asked.
Grant snorted. “From about the second week of knowing me. Hasn’t stopped yet. I’m waiting for her to try while we’re here.”
Emily smiled. “You can bet she will.”
“Emily!” Lydia protested.
Emily held up her left hand, showing off the flashy diamond ring. “Still, you might want to give her a chance. As far as matchmaking skills go, she’s not too bad.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Lydia huffed. “As much as your amazing endorsement makes me so happy, I’d love a chance to catch up. It’s been ages.”
“True, I have been rather busy. Grant, do you mind if I steal your date for a little while?” Emily asked.
Grant waved them off. “Oh, don’t mind me. I’ll take a gander around while you two catch up.”
Lydia winked at him before following Emily deeper into the room. Shaking his head, Grant walked away from the table to peer at the work. It didn’t take him long to sense a pattern throughout the different paintings. They were all pretty dreary and depressing, using dark and somber tones. Usually showcasing dismal environments and painted in a way that struck Grant as realistic yet emphasizing mood more than reality.
One, in particular, caught his eye, bringing him to a stop as he looked it over. He recognized it as a rendition of the cliffs that lay a couple of miles outside the city limit. The sky was dark, cut through with smears of violet near the middle, with streaks of muddied orange and yellow coming from the horizon. The sea was roiling and dark, white tips delicately added in as though to show how high and strong the waves were. Grant could almost hear the howling of the wind as it whipped around the stone face of the jagged cliff, and smell the salt as the waves crashed against the beach.
And at the top of the cliff, stood a lone figure, hands held out. It was hard to tell if the figure was simply bathing in the raw, primal force of the ocean, or preparing to tip forward, freefalling into the sea below.
“Like that one, huh?” a familiar voice asked him.
Grant jerked out of his reverie, taking half a step back when he found Theo standing beside him. He’d cut his hair down to where there was only blond stubble left behind, and he didn’t look as disheveled as he had in the hospital. He’d changed his grungy jeans for a fresh pair of black ones that hugged his narrow hips. The wrinkled t-shirt had been replaced with a black tank top, covered by a green vest left unzipped. Grant could see more tattoos, a myriad of symbols curling up around his left shoulder to his back, a snake wrapping itself completely around his right bicep. There were so many, and that wasn’t even including what looked like writhing shapes of some sort.
Grant blinked, scrambling for words. “Ah. Uh. Theo, hello.”
Theo winked, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I never would have expected to see you here.”
Grant looked around at the well-dressed people. All of them had probably spent several hundred dollars on their looks alone. And here was Theo, standing out like a sore thumb in his exceptionally casual outfit. Yet even Grant would begrudgingly admit that Theo managed to make a sore thumb look good. He vaguely wondered what it would feel like to run his hand over Theo’s freshly shorn head.