“Is this Little B’s new one?” one of the other guys asked.
Jonas nodded.
The guy glanced at me and then looked closer. “You’re the model, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“She must like you.” He nodded at the statue’s genitals.
“Eh. It was cold the day I posed.”
He blinked and then guffawed. “Cold the day he posed,” he said as he walked away shaking his head. “That’s a good one.”
Christy and Siobhan arrived with her smaller pieces and sketches. They’d also brought a black satin sheet to use as a drape. I threw it over the replicant and helped them finish setting up.
Christy and I walked home on cloud nine. I wasn’t sure which of us was
more excited. We were tired, sore, and
Wren came through from the kitchen when she heard us at the front door, and Trip emerged from his office.
“We’re done,” I said. “It’s as ready as it’ll ever be.”
“Congratulations!” Wren said. “Do you wanna celebrate after you shower?”
I looked at Christy.
She shook her head. “Let’s wait till tonight when we get home.”
“You wanna shower first?” I asked her. “Or you want me to? I don’t care which, but I want some hot water this time.”
“You go first,” she said. “I wanna take a bath and try to get some of this dust out of my hair.”
“I can wash it for you,” Wren said.
“Would you? Oh my gosh, that’d be awesome!”
Trip and I waited in the living room. He was dressed in a dark blue three-piece suit with a red and blue checked tie. My suit was charcoal gray, also three-piece, with a baby blue shirt and gold tie that I’d chosen to complement Christy’s eyes and hair.
We’d been cooling our heels for twenty minutes. Trip shot his cuffs and adjusted his tie for the third time. I glanced at my watch. I’d lost track of how many times I’d done it. We stood when we finally heard the girls come out of the master bedroom.
I saw Christy’s shoes first, black and strappy with a gold buckle and four-inch heels. She’d painted her toenails red. The smooth skin of her legs glowed in the light from the lamp next to the couch.
My breath caught when I saw the rest of her. She was wearing a black sheath cocktail dress with threads of gold shot through it. It was so tight that she looked impossibly small
Trip let out a long, low whistle, while I stood there showing my molars.
Christy’s eyes glowed with pleasure at my reaction.
“Wow,” I said at last. “Words fail me.”
“And you’re usually so good with them.”
“Not enough blood flow to the brain,” I said.
Wren rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother.”
“Hush,” Christy told her. “I like it.”
“Are you ladies ready to go?” Trip asked. “We’re a little behind schedule.”
“We need to make an entrance,” Wren said tartly. Then she draped a black shawl around Christy’s shoulders.
The little blonde smiled back at her.
Wren’s dress was dark maroon and strapless, and showed off her natural assets. She wore a dove gray shawl draped around her arms.
Both girls were beautiful, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from Christy.
“Stop it,” she whispered. “You’re making me nervous.”
Wren fetched a Polaroid from the dining room table. She took pictures of Christy and me together. Then I snapped several of her and Trip. I finished the cartridge with two shots of the girls together.
“
“You sure are surly when you don’t get laid enough,” Wren snapped. She was only partly kidding.
“You said it, not me.”
I rolled my eyes and grinned at Christy. Nothing could dampen our enjoyment.
I drove us to the A&A building, where I dropped off the girls and Trip.
Then I whipped into the parking lot and rushed to join them. The party was in full swing already, with a string quartet playing classical music from the balcony.
The Art Department had pulled out the stops with the food and drink.
And even though the campus was officially alcohol-free, waiters at the punch table had bottles of wine wrapped in cloth napkins. As a fig leaf it wasn’t very clever, but the normal rules didn’t apply if enough bigwigs attended a party. The University of Tennessee had to uphold its long tradition of hypocrisy, after all.
We picked up glasses of wine, ate a few hors d’oeuvres, and went in search of Siobhan. She was holding court in front of Christy’s draped sculpture.
“Ah, ladies and gentlemen,” Siobhan said, “here’s one of the stars of the show.”
Christy blushed prettily and shook hands as her mentor introduced her around. I stood in the background and smiled.
“Did she say Johnson?” Christy asked one man all of a sudden. “Seward Johnson?”
“So you’ve heard of me?” he said with a self-effacing smile.
“Oh my gosh, yes! I love your work. I’ve only seen pictures of
“Thank you very much,” he said. “I could say the same about your work.
Siobhan gave me a sneak peek before the party started. I hope you don’t mind
—”
“No, not at all! I’m flattered.”
