Elias nodded, the fight seeming to drain out of him with that one little concession. Grant almost felt a twinge of sympathy for the friend or lover, but he had a feeling the two were very accustomed to handling one another. He also knew there was no force in heaven or hell that would encourage Grant to try and push either. He’d let them sort out the discussion about pain killers, and with some privacy as well.
He stepped out into the hallway once more, shaking his head. Grant had been privy to a great many private matters during his time at the hospital. He saw grief more often than he’d like, and the death of hope in a loved one’s face always sat in his gut like a rock. Yet now and again, he was witness to pure relief, and the joy of a healthy and safe loved one. Every once in a while, he was witness to something growing, something warm and fulfilling, and he suspected he had just witnessed something of the sort.
Those were the things that made his job worth every ounce of stress and heartache.
Lydia reached out as he passed. “I’m about to get off here in an hour.”
Grant raised a brow. “And?”
“And, before I forget, what are you doing Wednesday night?”
Grant blinked. “Uh, probably going home in the evening, unless I get held over.”
Lydia sighed. “Could you do me a favor?”
“Is this a work favor?” Grant asked.
“No, this is an out of work favor.”
“That’s new.”
“Dr. Andrews…”
“If you're going to ask me an out of work favor, you might as well use my first name.”
Lydia wrinkled her nose. “Fine, but not on the clock.”
“Good. Now, what’s the favor?”
“Uh, how do you feel about art?”
Grant cocked his head. “Art? It’s...pretty?”
Lydia snorted. “I guess I should have seen that coming. Well, how would you feel about escorting a lady?”
“Do we have one handy?” Grant asked wryly.
Lydia swatted him with the folders in her hand. “Would you be my date to an art show? I don’t want to go alone, and Dom has to work a double.”
“Oh well, color me flattered that without any other option, you chose me.”
“I have very few friends outside of work. And who was I going to ask, Leon?” Lydia demanded.
“Hey!” Leon’s voice floated out from a nearby doorway.
Lydia rolled her eyes. “The same man who thought Michelangelo was originally a Mutant Turtle.”
Grant fought to keep his features straight. “That’s...unfortunate.”
“And thought Monet was a fancy way of saying money.”
Grant sighed. “You’ve done your research on his lack of artistic sensibilities and knowledge.”
“Well, whatever someone I take with me better either be handsome as hell or at least not make me look like a complete fool in front of all the fancy art people. I can count on you to check both boxes with flying colors.”
“And I continue to be flattered.”
“Please?”
God, hadn’t he been thinking he needed to get out again? And an art show, while not necessarily his first choice, was as good a place as any. At least he could count on some halfway decent conversation, and he imagined the wine would be better than the bottles collecting dust at home.
Grant sighed. “Alright. You win.”
Lydia beamed. “Thank you, Dr. Andrews. I’ll slip the ticket through your locker tomorrow.”
Grant watched her all but bounce off, apparently thrilled to bits that he was going with her. It was only after she was out of sight that something occurred to him.
“She’s going to try to hook me up at the show, isn’t she?” Grant asked.
Leon emerged from the utility closet, shaking his head. “And you walked right into it. She’s going to have you at her side, scoping out any potential guys for you.”
Outmatched and outplayed.
“Damn,” Grant muttered under his breath.
He snatched up the next pile of folders and stalked off before he could find some other way to trap himself.
Theo
Leaning against the wall, Theo let out another cloud of smoke. The sounds of the street echoed down the alleyway, shadows of people walking on the sidewalk stretching across the trash littered ground. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sounds of the city echoing between the brick walls. It was soothing to him, a stark contrast to the maddening silence of the expansive house he’d grown up in. The sound of so many people going about their lives, laughing, talking, sometimes arguing, as they passed so close to him, always left him with a sense of peace.
It certainly took the edge off what he knew was waiting behind the door just to his left. Theo had known the day was coming, Wednesday sticking out on his phone’s calendar like an accusation. He hated the preparation hours before a show, and he hated being paraded around like a show pony during the whole thing.
The door opened with a harsh squawk, and his cousin stepped out onto the stoop. Her blond hair fell around her shoulders in a thick sheaf, but it didn’t block the frown that darkened her green eyes.
“Theo, what are you doing?” she asked, staring down at him.
Theo didn’t open his eyes. “Hiding.”
Blair huffed. “I did not arrange this show for you to hide.”
“The show isn’t for three hours, Blair.”
“Yes, and if you don’t get in here to look over everything, Emily is going to have a panic attack.”
“And they say artists are divas.”
“This from the man standing in a dirty alley rather than coming inside and talking to the lovely woman who’s helping to put your work on display.”
Theo grimaced, flicking the cigarette to the ground with a huff. “And why does she need my input?”
“Because she wants to make sure that everything is to your liking.”
“If that were the case, I wouldn’t be here at all. I don’t really care how she displays them. She can strap them to deer carcasses for all I care.”
Blair smirked. “That would certainly draw a lot of attention. But I think you should save that for the more uh...bohemian sorts.”
“Just say poor people who like art, it’s more honest,” Theo said, looking up at her.
Blair gave him an unimpressed look. “I’ll leave being rude to you.”
“Honest.”
“Call it what you want, but you’re still getting your ass in this building and helping my friend find some peace of mind.”
Theo wrinkled his nose. “And what about my peace of mind?”
“Your peace of mind comes when you get commissions and sold pieces by the end of the night, now get in here.”
She looked at him with narrowed eyes, and he sighed, stepping up to follow her into the gallery. Blair Atkins was a short, waif of a woman, but wielded a personality with all the force of a bomb when she needed to. It was probably the only reason the rest of their family hadn’t distanced themselves from her because of her association with Theo. Well, and she also dealt with the family finances heavily, which gave her a lot of weight to throw around.
He followed her into the main room of the gallery. It was like every other gallery he’d been into, a large room with full and half partitions scattered about for hanging paintings. Every place meant for a painting also came with its own placard, so the name of the work, handwritten in delicate text, could be slipped inside. Half of the paintings he’d chosen for the show were already up, their brilliance exposed by the bright lights. When the show started, the ceiling lights would be dimmed, and the display lights over each painting would be flipped on instead.