“Yosemite,” Spiridon said.
“You mean you went back after that deer tried to eat your watercolors?” I quipped.
“You remembered our story about the deer!” Nikolos chuckled.
“Of course I remembered!” I grinned at him. “I remember all your stories. I’m going to write them all down someday,” I winked. I looked around for a moment and sighed, overwhelmed by all the excitement and the amazing art. “Wow, you guys,” I smiled, “You have so many awesome paintings here tonight. I can’t believe it.”
Spiridon and Nikolos smiled back at me.
Spiridon shrugged, “It’s just art.”
“Just art,” I scoffed. Maybe they were bored with lavish gallery openings after decades. What did I know?
“Hey,” Spiridon said, “remember that show you had in New York? I think it was 1984?”
Nikolos chuckled, “I’ve tried to block out all of 1984.”
“You know the one. The one with the fire?”
Nikolos’ eyes widened. “Oh! That show.”
Spiridon nodded knowingly.
“What happened,” I asked, all ears.
Nikolos said, “I got the idea that if I set one of my paintings on fire in the gallery, it would create a real buzz in the art world.”
Spiridon grinned, obviously knowing where the story was going.
Nikolos continued, “Too bad the only buzz was when the fire department showed up and kicked everyone out of the gallery.”
Spiridon shook his head, smiling.
“Did anyone get hurt?” I asked.
“Just my sales,” Nikolos winked.
“So you won’t set anything on fire tonight?” I joked.
Nikolos looked at Spiridon, “Have I told you how much I like this girl?” He wrapped an arm around my neck and gave me a friendly hug.
“Nikolos was always about the marketing from the beginning,” Spiridon said. “He knew what he was doing, and he wanted to sell paintings. But setting that painting on fire wasn’t the only brilliant marketing idea he had, was it, son? Remember that time you covered yourself in paint and rolled around on a canvas in the middle of the gallery opening?”
My eyes widened, “You did that?”
“Yup,” Nikolos nodded. “Nude.”
“While people watched?” I asked in complete disbelief.
“For a packed house,” he said.
“How’d it go over?”
“People loved it.” Nikolos made a funny face. “I was so ‘experimental’,” he made finger quotes, “I was pushing the envelope.”
“The only thing he hadn’t factored in,” Spiridon said conspiratorially, “was how hard it was to get the paint off afterward.”
Nikolos squeezed his eyes shut and cackled as he said, “Who knew peeling acrylic paint of your privates would hurt so much!”
“What!” I gasped, covering my mouth.
Nikolos nodded, “But the worst part was getting it out of my hair. I ended up shaving my head and my jewels.”
My mouth Oed.
“I warned you,” Spiridon said affectionately.
Spiridon and Nikolos laughed and shook their heads at the shared memory.
These two were full of endless stories about art adventures.
“So, did you sell your pubic painting to public?” I asked satirically.
Spiridon chuckled, “Pubic painting…”
I winked at him.
“Of course I did,” Nikolos scoffed.
“Did the bonus pubic hair up the price?” I asked innocently.
Spiridon and Nikolos chuckled heartily.
“Not that I remember,” Nikolos said. “But it should have. That buyer got my DNA. You can’t get better authentication than that. Hey, I should use that as a marketing angle.”
“What,” Spiridon said, “putting your pubic hair in all your paintings?”
“Why not?” Nikolos grinned.
“Know your limits, son,” Spiridon smiled smugly, patting him on the shoulder.
“So,” I said, “how much did the pubic hair painting sell for?”
“Oh, boy.” Nikolos looked thoughtfully at the ceiling, remembering. “I think two twenty five?”
“Dollars?” I asked.
“Thousand,” Nikolos chuckled.
“$225,000?” I gasped.
“Yeah,” he smiled.
“Wow, when did you do that?”
“Way back in ’88, I think. I told you I wanted to forget the eighties,” he grinned at Spiridon.
“Come on,” Spiridon said enthusiastically, “you were young. You were having fun. In those days, that was all you and Vesile did—” Spiridon suddenly stopped himself, clamping his mouth shut.
Nikolos dropped his chin to his chest and his shoulders sunk.
“I’m sorry, son” Spiridon said to him softly, draping his arm over Nikolos’ shoulders.
I wasn’t entirely sure why Nikolos was so emotional. But I did know one thing from working with him in his studio all the time. He never talked about his ex-wife, Christos’ mom, and I never asked. I really knew hardly anything about her. And from what I could tell, Nikolos didn’t date anybody at all. He just painted and spent time with friends and family.
“Are you okay, Nikolos?” I asked, suddenly worried. He seemed really distraught.
Nikolos raised his head and blinked away tears. “It’s nothing. I’m okay.” He turned his head away, trying to hide the emotion on his face. “Don’t worry about it,” he said a moment later. “I’ll be fine,” he sniffed.
Wow, he must have loved Vesile like crazy if he still broke down twelve years after she’d left.
I felt so bad for him.
“All right everybody,” Brandon said over the microphone. He stood in front of the two paintings still covered in black silk, “There’s one more surprise. The final unveiling. I’m sure you’re all wondering about the two paintings that are still covered up.”
The crowd murmured agreement.
“I’ll let Christos fill you in himself.” Brandon handed the mic to Christos and stepped out of the spotlight.
Christos had been so busy for the last hour, I hadn’t said a single word to him.
“Some of you may know,” Christos said to the crowd, “that a very special woman came into my life nine months ago. If you haven’t met her, you’ve already seen her in my painting entitled LOVE. That’s me and her, Samantha Smith, together. Samantha, will you come up here?”
Gulp.
Christos shaded his eyes from the spotlight with his hand and searched the crowd for me.
Nervousness suddenly seized me. Did I have to stand in front of everyone? Of course I did. But maybe I wouldn’t have to say anything.
“Go, Sam,” Madison prodded at my elbow.
“Yeah,” Romeo said, pushing my back gently, “get up there.”
I didn’t have a choice. I made my way through the crowd and stepped into the spotlight. It was really effing bright. I squinted until my eyes adjusted. I hoped nobody was snapping photos. I probably looked terrible.
Christos took my hand and held it in his.
I’d never felt so on the spot in my entire life. Literally.
Christos smiled at me, gazing into my eyes. He said to the mic, “What none of you know is how much Samantha means to me,”
His blue eyes burned into my heart in that moment, in a good way. Oh my god, where was this going?
“Samantha has been an inspiration to me since the day we met,” Christos said. “If it wasn’t for her, I don’t know that I’d be here tonight.”
Gulp.
“Samantha saved my life, and for that, I am forever grateful. But more than that, she has been my guide. She has shown me how to embrace myself, to be me. Not someone else. Her courage blows me away every time I think about it. She moved all the way to San Diego from Washington D.C. with the dream of becoming an artist. And she never wavered from it. She stuck to her guns, no matter what challenges life put in her way. She has come so far in such a short time. She has a natural talent for art that I’ve never seen before. Sadly, for all her hard work, Samantha has never had a painting in a gallery show.”