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ONE

“Sheikh Rafiq Al-Zayn… Sheikh Rafiq Al-Zayn…”

I repeated the na on the step-stool Nofor the exhibit just would not sit on the wall straight, and the task was chewing onday, and thepart of it hadn’t even started yet

Wrestling with the fra off e for me, and it took practice, but I certainly wasn’t about to embarrass myself for a client as iallery early in theabout availability for a last-uests fro Tuesday had ended up becoeneral public in preparation to host the Sheikh

Rich clients only set up private viewings such as this if they were really interested in an artist’s work, and they usually left with at least one piece for their private collection As it was, I couldn’t afford to refuse his offer

Finally, the last of the hooks caught the fra click I came down off the step stool and did a final check of the levels until I was satisfied

The gallery space wasn’t much, but it was , the art space itself could only hold about fifty people h on an opening night The hardwood floors and track lighting keptprofessional, even whenwas char dilapidated In any other life, there was no way I could afford a space this valuable, but I had ed to rent it, and the studio apart a dear friend of h, being an artist wasn’t easy EveryI e wind came and blew me into oblivion So far, I had always made it So far

Nights like tonight could go one of tays: they could shake the tightrope, or they could turn it into a stable and co I could to ers that the rest would fall into place But rich art collectors were nothing if not unpredictable; they lived in a world that few people would ever inhabit or understand, and as far as my experience served, they had no idea what it was like to live in the real world

As if on cue, froallery’s front door chiold watch around my thin wrist; it wasn’t seven yet Had the Sheikh decided to show up early? I wasn’t even dressed or ready for his party

“Evangeline?” A familiar voice carried across the eently in its antique jamb “Sorry I’m late”

Joel Perez,at the painting, a backpack slung over one shoulder of his leather jacket His jet-black hair was mussed up from the motorcycle helavesmile when our eyes met

“How are you feeling? Excited?”

Joel was certainly excited hi in his eyes betrayed as ain felt lucky to have hihts like this

I took a deep breath and sighed “I think I’ll be more excited when it’s over”

“Come on, now, that’s not the attitude to have!” said Joel His Spanish accent gave his words even more sunshine than they already had He walked over and put his aret some happy in you What can I help with?”

With a glance around the eallery, I said, “The refreshet myself ready I haven’t had time”