Player & the Game (23 page)

“N
ow
you're heading to Miami?” Dawn asked, furrowing her brows.

“Yep!” Stephanie giggled on the other end of the phone line. “We're heading there now. We're hoping to get there by this evening if we can make the miles. This is one of our few pit stops. I wanted to get lunch.”

Dawn leaned back in her office chair. The search for conman Isaac seemed to be forever ongoing. Dawn wondered where the journey would take her sister next.

To Mexico, maybe,
she thought glibly.
Antarctica?

“So . . . Is your assistant OK covering everything for you while you're gone?”

“Uh-huh, I told her it would only be a couple more weeks. If we don't find Isaac by then, then I have to head back to Chesterton. I trust Keith to continue looking for him without me.”

“Well, are you OK with being alone with Keith for another week or so? I thought he really pissed you off. It doesn't bother you to be around him?”

“Of course, it doesn't bother me. Dawn, I'm . . . I'm in love with him.”

At those words, Dawn's phone slipped from her fingers. She almost dropped it to her desk, but she quickly recovered before bringing the receiver back to her ear.

“Wait, say that again, Steph. I don't think I heard you right the first time, because it sounded like you said you were in love with him.”

“Actually, that's
exactly
what I said. I am hopelessly in love with him, girl.”

Dawn was tempted to ask if her sister was currently under the influence of some illegal substance, but she bit her tongue. Dawn could tell by the sound of Stephanie's voice that she was sober and more importantly, truly happy. But . . .
in love?
Stephanie Gibbons—of all people—was in love? How the hell was this possible? Stephanie had mentioned during their last phone conversation that she thought she was falling in love, but Dawn had just mistaken it for wild rambling.

“Look, I know it sounds crazy,” Stephanie rushed. “And I'll admit, it's . . . It's a little scary to own up to my feelings like this, but I really do love him, Dawn. And he loves me too. I think we really have a chance to be happy together. I definitely want to give it a chance anyway.”

“But Steph . . . He's a detective. He drives a shitty Ford Explorer, for God's sake! You said that it doesn't seem like he has a lot of money. Are you sure you want to hook up with—”

“Yes, I'm sure. I couldn't walk away from this even if I wanted to. It would eat me up inside.”

“Maybe you're going through some weird Stockholm syndrome—you know, forced to be around someone you hate, like you're his hostage. I get that you find him attractive. The man's hotter than a chili pepper. Understood! But maybe being stuck with him all this time is messing with your head and—”

“No one's messing with my head. I
know
what I feel.”

“But what about the
rules?
” Dawn asked earnestly, hoping to talk some badly needed sense into her sister's head. “What about—”

“Some rules are made to be broken.”

Dawn sighed. Stephanie had broken a great deal of rules lately. Dawn wasn't convinced that breaking yet another one wouldn't lead to more frustration and heartache. But Stephanie was an adult. She had a right to make her own decisions.

“OK,” Dawn mumbled. “You're in love. I won't say anything else about it. Con . . . congratulations.”

“Thanks, Dawn. I know you don't understand where I'm coming from, but I appreciate you trying to be supportive.”

“Hey, I'm your sister,” Dawn said with a shrug. “That's what I'm here for.”

The tender moment was abruptly interrupted when Percy burst into Dawn's office. Kevin trailed after him.

“Sorry, Dawn,” Kevin apologized, doing a little hop to peer at her over Percy's broad shoulder. The alarm was evident on her assistant's tanned face. “As I told you, Mr. Templeton, Dawn is taking a phone call at the moment. She—”

“Well, then she can end her little chat, because I need to speak with her
now,
” Percy said icily.

“Hey, Steph, let me call you back,” Dawn whispered, gazing up into Percy's cold blue eyes.

“Oh, sure, talk to you later!” her sister chirped on the other end.

“Bye.” Dawn lowered her phone receiver back into its cradle. “What's wrong, Percy?”

She jumped in surprise when he slapped a gilded envelope on her desk. Kevin, realizing the situation was about to get ten times uglier, made a quick exit, shutting the office door behind him.

“You said it couldn't be done.” Percy spoke slowly through his tight, thin lips as he paced in front of her desk. “
You
said he wasn't interested in showing his work in the DC market! Well then what the bloody hell is this?”

Dawn reached for the envelope and opened it. Inside was an engraved invitation.

“A preview of the phenomenal work of artist and genius, Razor, to take place at Sawyer Gallery,” Dawn read aloud.

The preview was slated for eight o'clock that evening.

“Shit,” Dawn muttered. So Sasha had won over Razor after all, and all it took was one night in the sack.

“ ‘Shit' indeed, darling!” Percy boomed. “How could you let this happen?”

“Percy, I tried. Really, I did. There was no way—”

“Well, obviously, you didn't try hard enough! If you did, he'd be showing his preview at
my
gallery and not that . . . that tasteless amphitheater Martin Sawyer tries to pass off as an exhibition space!” Percy stopped pacing. He shook his head and took a deep breath. “You've deeply disappointed me, Dawn . . .
deeply
. I thought you were a woman who could deliver. That's why I hired you, isn't it?”

She didn't say anything in response. What was there to say? If she had to do it all over again, she still wouldn't have done a threesome with Razor and Sasha. She had to draw the line somewhere. But it did anger her that Sasha had managed to get Razor in the end. To lose to a woman like that made her stomach turn.

“
Well?
” Percy persisted. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

“I'm . . . I'm sorry I disappointed you, Percy,” she said quietly.

Percy cleared his throat and Dawn lowered her eyes, prepared for the worst.

“You're fired, darling,”
was the next thing she expected to hear.

“Martin is a lout of the worst kind but . . . He and I run in the same social circles.” Percy adjusted the lapels of his jacket. “My absence tonight would look like a case of sour grapes. So I suppose I shall have to attend the preview . . . and you, darling, will attend with me.”

Dawn's eyes shot up. Did she hear him correctly? “You . . . you want me to go to the preview tonight?”

“Yes, I do. If I have to . . . What is it that you Americans say? . . . ‘Eat shit with a grin,' then you'll have to do it also. I'll pick you up here at seven-thirty.” He turned toward her office door and swung it open. “Make sure you're ready when I arrive. We wouldn't want to be late, now would we?”

He then stepped into the hallway, slamming the door closed behind him.

Dawn slumped low in her chair and dropped her head into her hands. How she would make it through tonight without punching either Sasha or Razor in the nose, she did not know.

 

“Dawn! Percy! Glad you could make it!”

Dawn almost choked on her champagne at the sound of Sasha's voice, but she managed to swallow it down. She also managed to morph her grimace into a pained smile by the time she turned around and faced her foe.

Sasha was wearing a red suit today: the same shade of red as the panties she wore that night during her clandestine tryst with Razor, Dawn noted. But she wasn't with Razor tonight. Instead, Sasha was linked arm and arm with her lover and gallery owner, Martin Sawyer, and her husband, Teddy.

Martin was a large, balding man with a stomach that hung over the front of his pin-striped slacks. His barrel chest was barely contained in his suit jacket. In contrast, Teddy was a much smaller, skinnier fellow. He had shaggy hair and wore wire-framed bifocals that made his brown eyes look several sizes smaller. He always had a slightly sour look on his face, like he had sucked on a lemon.

“How you doin', Percy?” Martin boomed, extending his plump hand.

At the sight of his frenemy, Percy's body instantly stiffened, but he accepted Martin's handshake. “I'm well, Martin. Very well. Thank you.”

“No, thank
you
for coming here tonight! I know things are busy for you guys over at Templeton. I appreciate you taking the time out to visit us.”

“Oh, please! I told you everyone is eager to see Razor's work, Martin! I'm sure they wouldn't miss this for the world,” Sasha gushed before turning her saccharine-sweet grin toward Dawn. “Right, Dawn?”

Dawn knew that Sasha was gloating. The woman had all the subtlety of a barreling metro bus. Choosing to ignore Sasha and her baiting, Dawn turned her attention toward Martin instead. “Kudos to you guys for getting this together so quickly, Martin. In just a couple of weeks! That's quite a feat. Have you even had a chance to see the finished work yet?”

Martin lowered his champagne glass from his mouth and shook his head. “No, I haven't. But Sasha tells me this Razor kid is the real deal. I trust her.” He glanced around the crowded room, taking in the hundred or so people who had come for the preview. It was standing-room only. “And judging from the turnout, I think she made the right call.”

“So are you saying you aren't even giving us a
hint
of what we're going to see tonight?” Percy asked.

Sasha removed her arms from Martin and Teddy. She wagged her finger at Percy and clucked her tongue. “No, we will not, my dear. It will be a surprise for all of us! You'll just have to wait and see.”

“Wait . . .” Dawn squinted, now staring in disbelief at Sasha. “Even
you
haven't seen the piece yet?”

Sasha fixed Dawn with a scornful glare. “No, I have not. Razor wanted it to be a surprise. I know he's brilliant. I don't need to see his work in advance to know that it will be superb,” she said haughtily, making Dawn grit her teeth. Sasha then glanced down at her watch and adjusted her suit jacket. “Well, Martin, we should probably start now. My people tell me that Razor has arrived. I guess we can begin.”

“Good!” Martin shouted. “Wait any longer and only more people will show up. The fire marshal will make us turn them away if this place gets any more crowded!”

Dawn watched as Martin and Sasha walked toward the back of the room with Teddy bringing up the rear.

Whereas Templeton Gallery chose more subtle décor with brick and white plaster walls so that the artwork was the focus, Sawyer Gallery believed in making a star of its exhibition space. The room was filled with glass panels, rusted copper pipes, stainless steel beams, and very expensive blond hardwood floors and custom overhead lighting. It was obvious that Martin had invested a pretty penny in the space.

Sasha grabbed a mike that one of her assistants handed to her before shooing the young woman away. She then climbed a few stairs to the raised stage.

Dawn and Percy gradually moved forward with the rest of the throng that gathered in the gallery. They were all eager to see what was behind the glossy curtain.

“Hello! Hello, everyone!” Sasha called over the microphone feedback. A few in the crowd grabbed their ears. “We're ready to begin. If you all could . . . just settle down . . . we can begin! I know you're all excited, as am I. But really . . . You must settle down.”

The crowd finally fell silent.

“Thank you so much for coming. We're happy to see all of you here at Sawyer Gallery,
the
premiere gallery in our nation's capital!”

A few in the crowd clapped politely while Dawn bit back a grumble.

Another hour or so and I can head home,
she silently told herself.

“Many of you have heard of the artist known as Razor.” Sasha grinned. “He was recently featured in the
New York Times
as one of the top artists of 2013 to watch. I can vouch for the fact that his creative mind knows no limits. His work is a sensual experience that cannot be replicated. That is why we are happy to announce that several of Razor's pieces will appear at our gallery during an exhibition in six months. But until then, he has benevolently agreed to give us a preview. Something to whet the appetite!”

Sasha gave a throaty chuckle and others in the crowd laughed, making Dawn shake her head in disgust.

“I'm going to hand the mike to Razor. Come up here, Razor, dear, and tell us about your work.”

The crowd parted slightly and Razor strode toward the stage. He was wearing his signature stained white T-shirt and wrinkled jeans today. His shoulder-length hair was mussed. He looked like he had just crawled out of bed.

He climbed the stage steps two at a time and grabbed the mike from Sasha before leaning down to give her a kiss. Sasha abruptly turned her head to the side. The wet kiss landed on her cheek. She smiled politely at him before awkwardly patting him on the back and walking off the stage. Sasha took her place beside her husband, Teddy, who still looked pretty sour-faced. She linked her arm through Teddy's.

Razor laughed. “Oh, it's like that, huh? I see how it is, babe.” He then turned toward the audience. “Well, if you know me, you know I don't believe in bullshit. I like to turn a mirror to the world and show the good, the bad, and the ugly. Nothing embodies that more than sex and power, and that's what this piece is about. People will be shocked. People will get angry. It'll . . .” His words drifted off. He smirked. “Ah, fuck it! I'm gonna stop talking. Let the piece speak for itself.” He then dropped the mike and hopped down from the stage. The lights in the room lowered and the glossy curtain was pulled back.