Velvet Reckoning

hine that sounded like judgement. She wasn't washing anything anymore. Just standing there, palms slick, watching the droplets ricoc

umped and still look like

things vertical, the wine bottle cradled between her knees. She poured

eadpan. "You're hot

ands on the granite counter. "I was a punchline. A bonus installati

from the floor with the other. "Screw Julian. You've got tal

hy and thin. She leaned her elbows on the counter, lookin

e corrected. "And we're art

he low hum of the fridge and the occasional creak from the floorboards,

said. I'm going

ng with a mix of concern and curiosi

d, already walking toward the

aid, reaching for

he oversized pages until she landed on a full-page photo of Alexander Sinclair, draped i

st contemporary galleries in L.A. He's an institution. He makes

"And you're going to... wh

mething that wasn't quite a

hat is... distur

er. "I know what I look like. I know how to talk art. I know how to be seen.

t out a low whistle. "Remin

it," Mar

ou're scaring me in a

s still glassy and wired. "It's not just about Julian. It's what he made me feel

"You were the only re

ok at her. "That didn't matt

lung to them both like smoke. They sat in silence until K

Let's say I'm in. How do you

ss a beat. "Thro

an eyebrow.

artment for years. There's a fundraiser next

mug. "This is either the beginning of

r mug against Kat

for her there-violent strokes of charcoal, deep violet, and the earliest hints of blood-red. She p

ame," she said, her voice lo

ning of a master plan or the first scene of a self-destruction

ked, quietly, "Do you

don't care if it works. I

omeone shouting about a dog in the alley. But inside the small apartment, the air had

ng her mug with both han