“Can I bring you another drink, miss?” a pony-tailed server asked. She must have witnessed my fumble because she handed me a napkin and relieved me of my nearly empty glass.
“Thank you,” I said to the pretty young woman, who hurried off for the bar.
When I was re-loaded with a new beverage, I spotted a gaggle of women I knew from the charity circuit. I made my way toward them, this time being careful about where I stepped, and keeping my drink far from Lisette’s watch.
As I got nearer, the ladies, decked out in their best Hamptons casual-chic, turned in my direction.
The odd thing was, though, that none returned my wave or smile. They just turned back to their huddle, inching more tightly together like a little pack of animals trying to keep warm. But it was too early in the season for any Fall crispness. In fact, we were nearly all wearing sleeveless dresses, and naturally, very expensive sunscreen.
But what really seemed off was that as I wove through the party, I spotted a couple other people, really just acquaintances, who also looked away from me. Was there something wrong with my dress? Had a bird crapped in my hair?
I scooted over to the edge of the patio as nonchalantly as possible and pretended to admire the crashing waves and seagulls dive-bombing the surf. I ran my hand through my hair. All clear there. I looked down at my dress, which was also flawless. Nothing but one tiny wrinkle, caused by the limo’s seatbelt.
Okay. Let’s try again.
“Hi everyone,” I said with a giant smile, approaching the crowd of tightly packed women.
“Oh, hi, Avril. Great to see you,” one of them said. The others just looked at each other, taking tiny sips of their drinks and holding their Birkin bags closer.
What the hell? We’d been in one of our charity meetings only a couple days before. Everything had seemed normal then.
“Great to see you, too,” I squeezed out with forced cheer. Something was off. I could smell it. Socializing with this crowd followed a strict set of rules. One tiny whiff of variance in peoples’ behavior, and you knew something was up.
And it seemed that something had to do with me.
When it became clear no one else had a single thing to say, I knew to cut bait. “Well, I’m going to keep wandering. Hey, if any of you see my husband Devon, can you tell him I’m looking for him?”
Someone half-laughed, half-coughed. Okay, something was definitely up. And these bitches were not sharing a thing.
“Bye, Avril,” one of them called as I walked away.
I waved over my shoulder without turning. Fuck them. I might live in their world now, but that doesn’t mean I’d left Baltimore completely behind. I had enough smarts to be a bitch, too, when it was needed.
Nodding at a few other familiar faces, I made my way to a bench away from the crowd. First, I returned Dagney’s call.
“Hey, Dagney.” She was a godsend of an assistant, probably better at running my art gallery than I was. I’d be completely lost without her.
“Avril! Hi. Was just calling to let you know that new artist you wanted decided to sign with us. We can schedule his show next time you’re in the gallery. I’m so excited.”
Yes. I was, too.
“That is amazing. Great work. I’m out in the Hamptons at a party, waiting for Devon.”
“Really? Have fun. I’m just finishing some things up,” she said.
I’d been hoping to pull in the city’s hottest surrealist painter, and it looked like my convincing had worked. My gallery was lucky enough to have a solid track record of signing some of the brightest new artists around, and selling the shit out of their work. It gave me no small satisfaction to beat out the more established galleries in the city.
Brokering art was a tough business, and I was a long way from being profitable. But luckily, my husband was supportive of my passion and was always ready with his checkbook, prepared to cover any of the gallery’s losses.
Some people would call mine a hobby job, but I wasn’t dabbling. I was seriously committed to building a real business.
Speaking of which, I dialed Devon again. No answer. He was probably at the party already, wandering around, looking for me.
He just couldn’t hear his phone ringing.
Right?
