Mabel Shot
“‘So, did you manage to sort out your commitments?’
I turn to hear Boris’s voice, who smiles at me as he steps into the screen triage room.
‘Sorry, what?’ I look at him confused, not understanding what he’s referring to.
‘Friday night, remember?’ He gives me a wider smile while I respond with an awkward one back.
I nod slightly, recalling the excuses I made for not going out with him and the others after work on Friday night. I turn my attention back to the canvas I need to sort. I still have no idea what this author intends with this work. It doesn’t fit into anything I’ve seen before, and I’m not even sure if it’s contemporary, but art is art, right?!
My head is a mess; that’s the truth. I left that place on Friday more lost and uncertain than when I entered. I felt foolish asking that man for help. How long had he been involved in this? Surely, a young woman struggling to manage her desires wouldn’t be worth his time. I preferred to leave rather than stay and wait for his response, only to hear that he couldn’t do anything for me. I spent Saturday and Sunday completely aimless, lying in bed, lost, unsure if I’d ever understand who I really am. I didn’t even have Macro to talk to; his phone was out of service. The only thing left for me was to return to the same place I was before.
Lost.
‘I was enchanted when I saw this canvas,’ Boris says, stopping beside me, admiring the piece with a soft sigh. ‘It triggers so many emotions, don’t you think?’
I blink quickly, looking at the canvas, which I can’t even focus on. I hadn’t even noticed Boris was still in the room; if he hadn’t spoken, I probably would’ve thought I was alone, I’m so distracted.
‘Um…’ I murmur, glancing at it, preferring not to mention what emotion it triggered in me. ‘Maybe it’s better to leave it with the expressionism section.’
I analyze it more carefully, opting to categorize it as expressionism alongside the others.
‘You know, I was wondering if there’s any chance you could help me check out a new painter in the market today after work. Maybe you have a keen eye for spotting masterpieces.’ Boris surprises me and steps closer, blocking the canvas from my view.
‘Well, actually, I…’ I try to think quickly, unsure what excuse to come up with to decline his invitation.
My head is a complete mess; I spent the entire weekend lost in thoughts that always spun back to one point: that pair of brown eyes.
‘Oh, I found her!’ The cheerful voice of Rumeu, the gallery curator, makes me sigh with relief, glad I don’t have to lie to get away from Boris.
I see Boris’s eyes sharpen as he focuses on his uncle, watching him over my head.
‘Let me introduce you. This is Boris, my nephew, who’s working with me right now. And this little gem is the precious jewel I told you about, the one I had the pleasure of recruiting to help me this season, Miss Shot.’ Rumeu’s voice brightens, giving my shoulder a light touch. ‘Mabel, my dear, I want you to meet someone.’
I turn slowly, starting to remove the latex gloves from my hands, but I freeze as the intensity of those brown eyes pulls me in. The large man in the black suit looks at me with interest, shifting his gaze from me to Boris and back to my face.
‘This is Gregovivk, son of a great friend of mine who, unfortunately, has passed away. His father was one of our biggest donors, an eternal lover of art.’ I hear my boss’s voice humming low in my ears while my whole body tries to escape the paralysis standing in front of this man has caused me. ‘Gregovivk is looking for new canvases for his home, but he wants more current pieces. I told him I had the perfect person to help him choose.’
‘Miss Shot.’ The tone of his voice is like an internal alarm clock, waking my entire nervous system, making me lower my eyes to his large hand, extended toward me. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet the precious jewel Rumeu keeps hidden in his gallery.’
I swallow hard and lock my gaze on his before fully removing the glove from my hand and reaching out to shake his.
‘Sir,’ I murmur, noting the slight smile at the corner of his lips as he grips my hand firmly, feeling the tremor that passes through my body.
It’s as if every cell and particle within me had been altered since that first encounter, waiting to see him again so they could be triggered. My cheeks heat up as I try not to think about which parts of my body his mouth, with its wicked smile, has been on, and what sensations it made me feel.
‘Well, now that I know you’re in good hands, Czar, I’ll take care of some matters in the office,’ Rumeu says, slapping his palm, which makes me react and pull my fingers from the Russian’s hand. ‘Boris, I’d like you to accompany me; I want to show you some administrative pending matters. And Mabel, dear, make a dent in Gregovivk’s card without any worries, just ensure he leaves here satisfied!’
Boris remains silent, his gaze pinned on me, slowly directing it to Mr. Czar, narrowing his eyes as if he’s sensed the strange energy that has tied me to the large Russian. Boris looks back at me intensely before walking closer to his uncle. I glance at Rumeu, still unsure if he knows what kind of things would satisfy Mr. Gregovivk. I give my boss a polite smile, nodding in agreement.”
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