Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Sebastian was jumping up and down and doing what seemed to be some sort of strange looking dance when Christine walked into his office with the aspirin. His back was turned to her and hadn’t noticed her walking in, “A-hemmm” she said in a loud voice while clearing her throat. Sebastian stopped, frozen in embarrassment he could only imagine how idiotic he appeared. He lowered his arms, turning around slowly and in what he hoped was a professional, mature voice said, “Veronica Bell will be here tomorrow at 9:00am to sign some paperwork and than head over to the gallery. I need you to get the paperwork ready.”
“Yes, sir. Here are the aspirin you asked for.” She replied with an amused expression on her face. “Anything else?”
“Yes, im going to lunch than I think I’ll head home afterwards. If you need me at all I’ll have my cell phone with me.”
Christine was having a hard time keeping a straight face especially when he was having an even more difficult time trying to ensure that fact he didn’t blush in front of her. She decided she had more than her share of fun with him for the day and turned to leave when he stopped her.
“Christine, if there was any way possible for you to forget what you saw me doing earlier, whatever we want to call that, I’d be more than happy to give you anything you ever wanted.”
Christine burst out laughing, not being able to hold it in any longer at the sound of desperation she heard in his voice. She glanced back over her shoulder on her way out the door with an innocent look, “Forget what sir?” Sebastian grinned at the closed door, today was turning out to be a damn fine day he thought.
In the cab on the way to his favorite park side restaurant Park Grill, Sebastian thought of the first time he had seen a piece by Veronica Bell. He was in New York City visiting his family and happened to find this out of the way little bistro. He always loved finding places no one else knew about, there was just something to the being new, almost virginal, not yet tainted by mainstream views and outlooks that appealed to him. He had ordered himself a bowl of French onion soup and taken a seat next to a collection of four charcoal drawings on the wall. They were lit up with a blue fluorescent bulb attached to the wall just above them, adding more drama than any actual real lighting. He had put his spoon down and gotten up for a closer look, mesmerized at first glance. Four drawings all of the same face yet all completely different, they were absolutely stunning. He didn’t have to be an expert to see the talent flowing from these drawings, yet he was and not only did he admire it, he envied it. There was such passion with each line the artist made it was almost like the drawings were pulsating with life. The elderly woman who the drawings were of seemed to be alive, yet captured as if frozen in time. Sebastian had scanned the drawings looking for a name but none was given, neither was their a price for any of them. He had asked the quiet boy working the counter about them and he had given him the name, the one he had been obsessing with for over a year now “Oh yea, that’s by Veronica Bell aren’t they great?” Sebastian had thanked him, finished his soup and took one last look at the drawings and left.
That day he had vowed to have her work displayed in his next gallery and today he had made that vow come true. It was time to celebrate and he couldn’t think of any better way than lunch at his favorite restaurant. Maybe afterwards he’d call his lawyer, Lucas, who just happened to be his best friend, and see if he was up to a friendly game of pool. He had been waiting only a few minutes when he heard a voice exclaim “What a surprise, I never thought of seeing you here!” He looked up and there in front of him was the tawny bombshell from the night before. Sebastian couldn’t believe his luck. He got up, grinning and ran a nervous hand through his hair. He was just about to ask her if she was alone when he noticed someone else walking towards them and all capabilities just left him. He had never seen anyone quite so beautiful as the raven-haired woman that joined them. When she turned to look at him he wasn’t sure if he had gone deaf or not but all he could hear was buzzing, her eyes were absolutely bewitching. When she looked at him and asked if he was ok he noticed, he didn’t know how he did, but he noticed a slight southern lilt to it. In order not to appear for a second time that day like an idiot he shook himself out of it and nodded. He than noticed that the other woman was trying to ask him something. He turned, with some effort away from the raven-haired beauty and focused on what he was being asked.
“I said, do you remember me from last night?”
He smiled hoping to appear calmer than how he felt which for the second time that day felt unfortunately like a victim of a hit and run accident.
“Of course” he stammered. “The horse….I, I mean Misty, right?”
“Yes, sir. Here are the aspirin you asked for.” She replied with an amused expression on her face. “Anything else?”
“Yes, im going to lunch than I think I’ll head home afterwards. If you need me at all I’ll have my cell phone with me.”
Christine was having a hard time keeping a straight face especially when he was having an even more difficult time trying to ensure that fact he didn’t blush in front of her. She decided she had more than her share of fun with him for the day and turned to leave when he stopped her.
“Christine, if there was any way possible for you to forget what you saw me doing earlier, whatever we want to call that, I’d be more than happy to give you anything you ever wanted.”
Christine burst out laughing, not being able to hold it in any longer at the sound of desperation she heard in his voice. She glanced back over her shoulder on her way out the door with an innocent look, “Forget what sir?” Sebastian grinned at the closed door, today was turning out to be a damn fine day he thought.
In the cab on the way to his favorite park side restaurant Park Grill, Sebastian thought of the first time he had seen a piece by Veronica Bell. He was in New York City visiting his family and happened to find this out of the way little bistro. He always loved finding places no one else knew about, there was just something to the being new, almost virginal, not yet tainted by mainstream views and outlooks that appealed to him. He had ordered himself a bowl of French onion soup and taken a seat next to a collection of four charcoal drawings on the wall. They were lit up with a blue fluorescent bulb attached to the wall just above them, adding more drama than any actual real lighting. He had put his spoon down and gotten up for a closer look, mesmerized at first glance. Four drawings all of the same face yet all completely different, they were absolutely stunning. He didn’t have to be an expert to see the talent flowing from these drawings, yet he was and not only did he admire it, he envied it. There was such passion with each line the artist made it was almost like the drawings were pulsating with life. The elderly woman who the drawings were of seemed to be alive, yet captured as if frozen in time. Sebastian had scanned the drawings looking for a name but none was given, neither was their a price for any of them. He had asked the quiet boy working the counter about them and he had given him the name, the one he had been obsessing with for over a year now “Oh yea, that’s by Veronica Bell aren’t they great?” Sebastian had thanked him, finished his soup and took one last look at the drawings and left.
That day he had vowed to have her work displayed in his next gallery and today he had made that vow come true. It was time to celebrate and he couldn’t think of any better way than lunch at his favorite restaurant. Maybe afterwards he’d call his lawyer, Lucas, who just happened to be his best friend, and see if he was up to a friendly game of pool. He had been waiting only a few minutes when he heard a voice exclaim “What a surprise, I never thought of seeing you here!” He looked up and there in front of him was the tawny bombshell from the night before. Sebastian couldn’t believe his luck. He got up, grinning and ran a nervous hand through his hair. He was just about to ask her if she was alone when he noticed someone else walking towards them and all capabilities just left him. He had never seen anyone quite so beautiful as the raven-haired woman that joined them. When she turned to look at him he wasn’t sure if he had gone deaf or not but all he could hear was buzzing, her eyes were absolutely bewitching. When she looked at him and asked if he was ok he noticed, he didn’t know how he did, but he noticed a slight southern lilt to it. In order not to appear for a second time that day like an idiot he shook himself out of it and nodded. He than noticed that the other woman was trying to ask him something. He turned, with some effort away from the raven-haired beauty and focused on what he was being asked.
“I said, do you remember me from last night?”
He smiled hoping to appear calmer than how he felt which for the second time that day felt unfortunately like a victim of a hit and run accident.
“Of course” he stammered. “The horse….I, I mean Misty, right?”
Sunday, February 08, 2004
From his office, Sebastian listened to the ring of the phone through the receiver and swore. He had missed her yet again, and he had last night to thank for that. He couldn’t remember the last time he arrived at work with a splitting headache due to the careless drinking from the night before, or could he remember the last time he tossed and turned so much and woke feeling as tired and frustrated as he went to bed. That he could at least blame on the tawny bombshell that he let slip through his fingers not once, but twice. He searched his desk drawers silently sending up prayers to whoever was listening for a few aspirin to pop up. It seemed it was a lost cause.
“CHRISTINE” he bellowed and instantly regretted it. He put his head down on the desk with a pathetic moan and waited for his secretary to answer him. His desk phone buzzed and he answered before the noise could sound once more. “Yes?” he replied quietly, almost painfully. “If you’re never going to use the intercom, why did you have it installed?” It was Christine responding to his bellow with a more than sarcastic edge on the newly installed desk phone. He let out a soft growl and answered, “Christine, today is not the day to try me. Please find me a bottle of aspirin and get me the number to the Art Institute of Chicago. Im trying to track down this person and I think they’re working there. See if you cant find me the number to a Dr. Ralph Goodman.”
“Of course, right away. Anything else?”
“Yes, hurry with the aspirin. And Christine, thank you.” With a soft chuckle he clicked off the intercom. He knew she’d give him a hard time for the state he looked and she had every right too. He would have done the same if she had walked in the same way he did earlier today seemingly close to a victim of a hit and run accident. He got up and went to pour himself another cup of hot coffee hoping this one would perform a miracle and wake him up. He had so much to do and being hung over was not part of the plan. He looked at his desk and groaned at the amount of paperwork that had stacked up almost instantaneously. He had almost forgotten how much work it took to open up a new gallery, at least how much tedious work it took. He didn’t mind the fieldwork at all; he thirsted for it if the truth was to be known. He loved the hunt of finding the perfect spot, in this case being Chicago, the perfect name, and the perfect art to show. He was lucky to do something he loved and each day he thanked his father for that.
15 years ago his father opened up the family’s first gallery in New York City, today, it has become one of the most renowned art galleries in the city. Sebastian remembered the hard work his father had to put in, the long days and nights, the sacrifices the entire family had to go through but it all worked out in the end, it always did. Last year his father passed away and left the gallery to him along with a sizeable amount of money, and the family’s reputation and honor. There were some that would say Sebastian hadn’t always been the model of responsibility, he knew better than to argue that and at family reunions he still had to defend himself quite a bit. He knew he had a less than respectable past but he was young than, stupid, immature and at that time all he thought of was cheap beer and fast women. He had changed and he would prove to himself and his family exactly that. He was on his own now with everything to lose, he was going to make his gallery the most sought out place in Chicago if it killed him. He would achieve his goals by sweat, by charm, by tenacity or by any other means he deemed suitable. For now he would start with the artist he had almost become obsessed with but kept unfortunately missing. The buzzing of his intercom once again interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Sir, Dr. Goodman is on line 1 for you.”
“Thank you Christine, and the aspirin?”
“On their way”
He thanked her once again happily knowing that his aspirin were on their way and picked up the phone call he had been waiting for.
“Dr. Goodman, so nice to finally speak to you. Please sir, what can you tell me about Veronica Bell?”
“CHRISTINE” he bellowed and instantly regretted it. He put his head down on the desk with a pathetic moan and waited for his secretary to answer him. His desk phone buzzed and he answered before the noise could sound once more. “Yes?” he replied quietly, almost painfully. “If you’re never going to use the intercom, why did you have it installed?” It was Christine responding to his bellow with a more than sarcastic edge on the newly installed desk phone. He let out a soft growl and answered, “Christine, today is not the day to try me. Please find me a bottle of aspirin and get me the number to the Art Institute of Chicago. Im trying to track down this person and I think they’re working there. See if you cant find me the number to a Dr. Ralph Goodman.”
“Of course, right away. Anything else?”
“Yes, hurry with the aspirin. And Christine, thank you.” With a soft chuckle he clicked off the intercom. He knew she’d give him a hard time for the state he looked and she had every right too. He would have done the same if she had walked in the same way he did earlier today seemingly close to a victim of a hit and run accident. He got up and went to pour himself another cup of hot coffee hoping this one would perform a miracle and wake him up. He had so much to do and being hung over was not part of the plan. He looked at his desk and groaned at the amount of paperwork that had stacked up almost instantaneously. He had almost forgotten how much work it took to open up a new gallery, at least how much tedious work it took. He didn’t mind the fieldwork at all; he thirsted for it if the truth was to be known. He loved the hunt of finding the perfect spot, in this case being Chicago, the perfect name, and the perfect art to show. He was lucky to do something he loved and each day he thanked his father for that.
15 years ago his father opened up the family’s first gallery in New York City, today, it has become one of the most renowned art galleries in the city. Sebastian remembered the hard work his father had to put in, the long days and nights, the sacrifices the entire family had to go through but it all worked out in the end, it always did. Last year his father passed away and left the gallery to him along with a sizeable amount of money, and the family’s reputation and honor. There were some that would say Sebastian hadn’t always been the model of responsibility, he knew better than to argue that and at family reunions he still had to defend himself quite a bit. He knew he had a less than respectable past but he was young than, stupid, immature and at that time all he thought of was cheap beer and fast women. He had changed and he would prove to himself and his family exactly that. He was on his own now with everything to lose, he was going to make his gallery the most sought out place in Chicago if it killed him. He would achieve his goals by sweat, by charm, by tenacity or by any other means he deemed suitable. For now he would start with the artist he had almost become obsessed with but kept unfortunately missing. The buzzing of his intercom once again interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Sir, Dr. Goodman is on line 1 for you.”
“Thank you Christine, and the aspirin?”
“On their way”
He thanked her once again happily knowing that his aspirin were on their way and picked up the phone call he had been waiting for.
“Dr. Goodman, so nice to finally speak to you. Please sir, what can you tell me about Veronica Bell?”
