This is a work of fiction. It is straight out of my imagination, except for most of the pagan practices mentioned. This is written for adults and if you are not supposed to read this where you live, then please don't.
Part 10
We walked into the lobby and up to the desk. I suddenly got nervous. Not for myself, but for Ryan. I didn't want people to think he was gay if he was not. We had two beds in our room, but who would know that besides the clerk and the maid. I scanned the room for people who might notice us. Ryan saw that I was preoccupied and took the lead.
"May I help you sir," asked the clerk.
"Yes, we have a reservation for two. It is under Blackwatch, I believe." Ryan's voice brought me back to reality and I turned to the desk.
"Why yes, of course. Good timing, your room is just now ready. Will you be needing anything special."
"Like what," I asked.
"Champagne, food, personal items... ," the clerk explained politely.
"He's not gay," I said quickly. Ryan laughed and the clerk's face turned red.
"I am sorry, sir, I was not trying to imply anything... I, um," the clerk stuttered.
"Don't mind him. He is always worried about me. We are friends." Ryan was fighting back the laughter as he spoke, and I tried to will the red from my face.
"I am sorry. I am a little out of it I think. It has been a bad day."
"Think nothing of it, sir. If there is anything we can do to make your stay more comfortable." The clerk was recovering slowly but held his professional demeanor.
"I am sure our stay will be fine," Ryan said, grabbing the bags and nudging me towards the elevator. I made more apologetic expressions at the clerk as I was pushed through the door. The door closed and Ryan started laughing and my face burned.
"I know it has been a hard day, but try to have a good time. Loosen up before you pop." Ryan had stifled the laughter by time the elevator opened on the fourth floor.
We took turns showering and got dressed. I told Ryan to wear a jacket and tie. He asked me why, but I told him he would have to wait and see. I hadn't told him about the gallery opening. I thought it would be a nice surprise. We went to dinner at a nearby restaurant. I couldn't help noticing people looking at us. I was afraid I was going to repeat my performance from earlier.
"May I get you anything else sir," asked the waiter. I looked down at my plate and contemplated dessert.
"What do you think? Dessert," I asked Ryan.
"I don't think I could handle it." Ryan pushed his plate forward and took his napkin from his lap.
"Perhaps a dessert to share," the waiter asked. Ryan started laughing. I just smiled and declined. He placed the check on the table. Ryan reached over and took the folder and opened it. He reached into his jacket for his wallet.
"I can get this," I said reaching for the check.
"I know, and so can I." I sat back in my chair and smiled.
"I also want to pay half the room."
"That is not necessary," I replied.
"Yes it is," he returned. We sat looking at each other for a moment.
"Well, let's go. I have a cool place for us to visit," I said pushing my seat back. Ryan tucked some money into the leather folder. I did some quick math and saw he left the waiter a big tip. I admired that.
I hailed a cab outside the restaurant and we rode to the gallery. Ryan didn't asked where we were going. He just followed me blindly, showing the trust he felt for me.
"Here we are," I said as I got out of the cab and paid the driver. Ryan got out of the car and looked up at the modern building.
"Where are we," he finally asked.
"A gallery. Actually it belongs to a friend of mine. I have art here."
"You have art in this gallery," he asked as he looked up at the impressive building again. He couldn't hide the awe in his voice.
"It is not that big of a deal. When I get a piece in a permanent collection of a museum; then you can be impressed." I smiled at him and pointed to the door. "Shall we?"
"Are there going to be famous artists here," Ryan asked. "I mean, other than you, that is." I laughed and nodded my head.
"This is actually an opening for a new up-and-comer. I haven't seen his work, in fact, I don't know his name, but I am really looking forward to it." I opened the door and let him in.
We moved into the lobby and were met by a daunting sight. There were several groups of extremely haughty looking people. Sal was talking with a couple, who were familiar to me. I nudged Ryan and motioned toward Sal. I told him about how Sal had sold some of my first works, and actually got me started in the art world. When he moved down to Florida, I was heartbroken, but he had already gotten me into several other galleries. I still held back some of my best for him to handle.
Sal saw us and broke off the conversation. It had been a few years since we last saw each other, and he had aged. He was still quite a handsome sixty-year-old. He moved deftly across the room, smiling and whispering to people as he went. He had always known how to work a room. He grabbed me and gave me a big hug. I hugged him back, remembering now, the smell of his aftershave that mixed with the scent from his pipe.
"Thank God you showed up. The Stillworths were boring me to death, telling me of their new art buys. They think they are onto the next big thing. They buy art with money on their minds. One must buy art when the beauty of the piece touches one's heart. If it ends up being worth millions, well that is a fringe benefit."
"Ryan, this is Salvatore Puccini. Sal, this is Ryan Summerbreaze." I removed myself from the hug and pushed my two friends together. Ryan extended his hand and said how impressed he was with the gallery. Sal thanked him and then turned to me.
"This is a cute one, Caison," Sal more than whispered.
"Um, no Sal. He is a student." I am sure I was blushing again. I had gotten very good at it lately. Sal, looked him up and down and then smiled at me. It was Ryan's turn to blush.
"I see," he said as he moved in between us. He took each of us by an arm and escorted us into the main room. His accent was in clear opposition to his name. He had a smooth southern accent that he picked up from growing up as a third generation Savannian, north of Gaston St. His family had a strong sense of pride in their homeland, and lived in an Italianate home. That was actually not that uncommon a style in the downtown area.
He was dressed as I had always remembered him. Long black Victorian frock coat and a colorful waistcoat. Tonight's waistcoat was Chinese silk in black and purple with silver dragons. His salt and pepper mustache was smartly trimmed and his hair was held in place by years of training. He still made eye contact with everyone he met and called out to people he knew by name.
The people were all marveling at the newly unveiled artwork. I stopped and stared at one of the paintings. It looked familiar; like something I had seen long ago. Ryan and Sal moved up behind me. Ryan looked up at another painting and gasped. I looked over to see a beautifully rendered nude male. On closer inspection I noticed that the subject of the painting was... me.
(To be continued)
The next chapter will be submitted soon.
I welcome comments, twinkchaser@excite.com