Alana looked gorgeous in her little black dress. She stole the show. I didn't mind, except predatory men sniffed around her like she was carrion and they were hyenas. I loved her more when I saw how she handled their overtures, pushing them away without offending, except for one jerk. I stepped in and marched him to the door. I was pleased that I'd remained so calm. I didn't break any of his bones.The Aspects of Alana paintings sold out during the pre-show that Alana and I didn't attend. The average selling price for each painting was $10,000. I have to admit, I didn't know about pre-show sales. Erin had mentioned buyer's lists, but I had not known what she meant. Evidently, gallery owners have buyer's lists made up of art lovers, collectors, and investors that gallery owners give first rights to purchase works in their one-man shows.Except for one sour holdout, the praise from the art critics was effusive, and Erin told me the holdout praised only mediocrity."He hammers real talent. “Ye…Yes,” Blake stuttered while still looking down at the table, glancing at Kellam before looking to the side and back to the table.“Perfect,” a close-mouthed smile appeared on his face.There was around thirty to forty-five seconds of silence after this. Kellam took back up his phone and held it with both hands as he clicked away at it. The changes in brightness off his glasses’ reflection held Blake’s interest – especially considering the exchange that just took place.“Mr. Brid-”“Give me just a second, bud,” he interrupted while still focused on his phone. Blake shuffled around in his seat; awaiting the path this conversation would take next. This was all peculiar to him; a stalker and open marriages. Part of him wanted to get up and walk out immediately, but the other had a morbid curiosity as to what would follow.“Mr. Bridge…Kellam. What does all of this even really mean? Are you proposing that I have sex with your wife as part of some little game you guys play?” Blake sat forward.
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