“Are you sure?” I ask.
She looks me in the eye and says, “Never.”
* * *
AntlerThorn is located in a somewhat trendsidential area off of Japantown. If it has a name, I don’t know it. All I know is that once we’re inside the gallery I am way, way out of my element. EDM is blasting Every Damn Moment, and the walls are painted the brightest pink I’ve ever seen.
“Intense,” I say.
“That’s one word for it,” Katie murmurs.
The music cuts off. The lights undim. A Mumford & Sons song begin to strum in the far background.
A man comes out of a door in the back and tells us, “Hello, hello, hello!” He’s got a grizzly beard and a Tigger bounce as he walks. He’s wearing a One Direction T-shirt, on which someone has spray-painted AND THAT DIRECTION IS OUT.
“You must be Ms. Cleary. And entourage. Audra is so sorry she can’t be here to see you. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. LOL!”
“Hi,” Katie says.
“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Brad. Bad-with-an-r! Or rad-with-a-B! Depends on which day you catch me! Can I get you something to drink? We have tap water, tap water, or tap water. We’re a nonprofit, after all. Not that we’re a charity—we just rarely turn a profit! Ha!”
“I’m fine,” I say.
“Me, too,” Katie says.
Brad spies the portfolio in Katie’s hand. “Oh, goody! Audra just loved what she saw on your Instagram—she wasn’t going to take Garrison’s word for it! We always like to check the work in person before committing to it. It’s like online dating!”
Katie is starting to take deep breaths.
Brad talks on. “Sorry about the techno onslaught when you came in—Audra just wanted me to check it out for the opening tomorrow night. It’s so great that you can take Antonio’s place—I can’t believe Ross is being such a bitch about it, but you know, Ross was always jealous of Antonio’s art, in the same way that Antonio was jealous that Ross was sexting dick pics like they were spam. To each his own! Audra was so worried about the whole situation, and then you fell right onto our gaydar, and suddenly it was like, eureka, now we know what to do with Wall Six. ‘Get ’em hung!’ Audra told me. And I told her, ‘I try!’ Ha!”
He’s walking us over to a table in front of a blank wall that must be Wall Six. I’m thinking I might need sunglasses to calm the power of the pink, but Katie isn’t looking straight on. She’s looking to the wall next to hers.
“Lin Chin,” she says with something approaching awe in her voice.
Each piece on this wall is a glass box, and inside each box is a pair of folded paper cranes. At first I don’t get it, but then I look closer, and my mind skips a beat. Because the cranes aren’t just floating there. They aren’t lifeless paper things. They exist in relation to one another. They are having a conversation, and I am observing it. Their bodies have language. The space between them has an intimacy.
“Oh yeah, aren’t those great?” Brad says. “Lin made those especially for this exhibit, if you can believe that. She and Audra go way back. Wayyyyy back, if you catch my drift. Wayyyyyyyyyyyyyy back.”
As Katie marvels at the cranes, Brad takes the pieces I’ve chosen out of the portfolio and spreads them on the table.
“Ooh!” he says. “Oh yes. Hmmm. Fierce. Very fierce.”
Katie is pretending not to be listening, but it’s obvious that she is. I turn to another wall to find a series of sketches of two men kissing. It starts when they are young—probably twelve or thirteen—and then, gradually, they age. Almost year by year. They’re my age. Then they’re older than me. And older. Their haircuts change. (One of them goes from blond to brunette to something in-between.) Their faces alter slightly, starting full, then narrowing, then regaining the fullness in a different way. The one thing that doesn’t alter is the intensity of the kiss.
There isn’t any explanation. Just the artist’s name, Nic Pierce. But I don’t think I need an explanation. I know, instinctively, that this has happened, that this is true. Nic Pierce found it. The kiss that lasts for years.
“Wow!” Brad says. I turn my head and see he’s gesturing Katie over. I go over, too, because I feel she wants me by her side.
“These are so fierce,” Brad tells her. “I mean, so, so fierce.”
“Fierce,” Katie repeats. “To be honest, I don’t even know what that means.”
“Ha! You are so adorable. The bottom line—and I’m a bottom, so I’d know, ha!—is that Audra loves your work. Adores it. Have you sprung fully formed from the head of Cindy Sherman? No. Is your work on par with, say, Lin Chin’s? Ha! But you have more promise in your little finger than most people have in their heads, and Audra just loves how many followers you have. Buzz always greases the wheels of art, and our wheels need all the lubrication they can get! You leave these with me and I will get them framed lickey-split—I know a guy who owes me some favors, and his framing’s better than any of the other favors he could offer, ha! It’s too late for us to get you in the catalog—sorry about that—but we can send out a release pronto that you’ve been added to the show, and the hits will follow. I promise: The hits will definitely follow.”
“Can I have a minute to talk with my manager?” Katie asks.
“Sure!” Brad chirps. “Especially since he’s cute as a butt. I mean, button. Ha!”