Outcasts

Chapter 8 - The Stare

"Kind of a wise-ass response," said Philip Tierney, who was watching a replay of the Mavro interview on the screen of his office computer.

"I thought it was catchy," said Sykes, who was watching over Tierney's shoulder. "The culture-clash thing."

"Does he know where culture-clash landed his artistic advisor for the past two years?"

"There's no need to get personal, Philip."

"So what do you do next?"

Sykes took a seat on the corner of Tierney's desk. "Find a venue to show his work and get that video played everywhere I can."

Tierney flicked an imaginary speck off his silk tie. "What venue did you have in mind?"

"I was hoping you could tell me."

"Ah."

"Someone who needs a hot show."

"Everyone needs a hot show."

Sykes nodded in agreement. "You know what I mean."

"You mean someone on the brink."

"Something like that."

Tierney stared at the computer screen, now blank. After some thought he turned back to Sykes. "Remember Austin Geller?"

~~~~~~

Luis Aguado's old Dodge pickup was parked on a cobblestone street in SoHo, in front of a brick building darkened with age that had a sign in front that said Gallery Geller. Luis and Mavro were unloading one of Mavro's paintings from a stack in the truck's cargo bed. They carried the bubble-wrapped panel through the gallery's front door, Mavro gradually having come around, after some hassling, to Sykes's ideas for how they could partner on his paintings.

Inside the modern, track-lit space, they passed by Sykes, who was talking to a sixtyish man in a slightly-frayed, once-elegant suit, the gallery's owner, Austin Geller.

"He's in that sweet spot," Sykes said when Mavro had gone by, "where he's discovered his style but isn't predictable yet."

Geller nodded. "In technical terms, a rookie."

"If he wasn't a rookie," Sykes said with an edge, "I wouldn't be representing him and you wouldn't be getting your piece of the action."

"Don't get defensive. I like what I see."

He and Sykes looked over to where Mavro and Luis were pulling the bubble-wrap off the painting and leaning it against the wall with several others. Standing by, overseeing the installation, was Helen Carty.

Geller cleared his throat. "I know you realize there'll be expenses – wine, food, the music..."

"How much?" Sykes asked.

"And a good-faith deposit on the space."

"Just tell me how much."

"I'll pencil it out, but ballpark I'd say fifty-thousand. Which of course you'll recoup from the first sale."

~~~~~~

That evening, Sykes poured wine for Helen at a warmly-lit table at Balthazar, an art-crowd restaurant on Spring Street. "Which of course you'll recoup from the first sale," he said, filling her glass half way and pouring some for himself.