Saltwater & Ink

6. The Gallery *in vino veritas*

They sat down at the black wooden table with a clinking of wine glasses. Evan and Dani sat closest to the bar, Emma in the middle, and Inky by the fogged window. The yellow light was dim and seemed to make the whole room glow. Once they'd started into their first round of drinks, a burgundy curtain rose above the small stage of the bar, and a short girl with curly red hair and thick, dark eye makeup walked out. She held a small suitcase, which she set up on a round table in front of the microphone on the stage. Danielle whispered something to Evan, who looked back at her, rolling his eyes. He slouched over the table and pulled his hat down farther over his face. Emma nervously sipped at her wine.
Inky looked around awkwardly at her group of friends- they all seemed to be waiting in anticipation of something. The girl on the stage rolled up her sleeves and opened the suitcase, which suddenly seemed to be overflowing with flowers, feathers, and a long coil of red silk which she supposed represented intestines. Somebody coughed from the back of the room. "Art," began the girl on the stage. "What is art but a subjective experience we can bestow upon an audience. My name is Miranda, and tonight I am welcoming you to the opening of Artist's Night." There was some nervous scattered applause. Inky pulled her sleeves down over her hands, staring down at the dark red of her wine. A group of three men approached the stage. One of them set up an easel behind where Miranda was standing, the others took out various sketchbooks, paint, and brushes.
Emma glanced over at Inky and nudged her with a boney elbow. "I think they're going to do a live painting tonight," she whispered. "Miranda is the host- she's usually a pretty good sport about all of this-" she continued, quickly looking down, cheeks reddening. Inky took a sip of her wine. It was thick, rich, flavored like dark berries and chocolate, with a subtle hint of something coppery and bitter she almost didn't enjoy. "What do you mean?" Inky asked under her breath, now staring at the stage. The lights started to dim, one of the men lighting candles in the sconces surrounding the stage. "Shh," replied Emma. "You'll see." She settled down on the long leather couch of their booth, lacing her fingers together around the stem of the wine glass. Inky thought her bubbly white wine smelled like flowers and sickly-sweet decay.
The men on the stage with Miranda all wore dark, charcoal grey suits, black wool newsboy caps, white button-down shirts and shiny black leather shoes. One of them motioned for the bartender to bring them a spare barstool and a round of drinks- bourbon, neat. As the four on the stage finished their drinks, their audience had slowly grown, and a small crowd of people were dispersed around the stage. Miranda sat on the barstool and began to adorn herself with the feathers and flowers that had burst from her suitcase. They appeared to stick to her hair and skin as if by some strange magic trick. The black crow feathers and luminous white flowers contrasted starkly with her mass of coppery-red hair. One of the men, a gaunt-looking blonde, set up his painting supplies and canvas on the easel across from Miranda. "That's Cayson," whispered Dani. "He's one of the gallery owners. I heard he's looking for new artists to expand the gallery showings this year." Dani pushed her tortoiseshell glasses up her nose and haughtily sipped at her pink rose wine. "I tried last year- but he didn't think my work was 'complete' enough," she hissed in Inky's ear. She flipped her straight brown hair over one shoulder nonchalantly. "It's not like I even give a fuck anymore..." she trailed off, staring into the distance, her icy blue eyes cold and pale. Her expression betrayed her true feelings.
On the stage, Cayson had finished setting up his easel and supplies, and looked over at Miranda. She took a deep breath and nodded. One of the other men, an obtuse-looking older fellow with a prim mustache, stepped to the edge of the stage and set up a video camera to record the show- or whatever it was that was about to take place up there. He peered at the audience through wire-rimmed glasses, and snapped his fingers, indicating for the show to begin. The third man walked to the middle of the stage and stood behind Miranda. He had black hair, black eyes, and a way of moving that seemed both graceful and sinister. Camcorder man pressed a button on a small black device and the sound of rustling leaves filled the room, followed by low thunder, tinged with an ominous violin. The dark-haired man pulled a sharp butcher's knife from behind his back, the blade cruelly glinting in the candlelight. The black speaker box started to howl and bay, like so many hounds loose on the hunt. With a quick slash, he sliced down the back of the long white dress Miranda was wearing. The crowd gasped, expecting there to be blood. They leaned forward eagerly on their seats. A smell like whiskey and formaldehyde permeated the stuffy air, and one of the candles spit sparks before guttering out.
A thick haze appeared to hang over the bar, as the man proceeded to wrap the mostly-naked Miranda in the coil of red silk ribbon that had been abandoned in the suitcase. Across from them, Cayson the gallery owner was fervently painting the scene. The hellish music was rising to a crescendo. Inky glanced over at her friends. Emma and Evan stared at the stage, transfixed, but Dani looked disgusted by the entire display, fiddling with her hair and tapping her manicured fingernails impatiently on the table. "To hell with this shit," she muttered. "I'm getting out of here," as she slid past Evan across the booth. Evan tried to grab her wrist as she made her hasty escape- "Dani! What the hell?" he mumbled as she shrugged him off and pushed past their table, before disappearing through the door into the night. He exchanged an apologetic glance with Emma and Inky, shaking his head. Inky moved her eyes back to the stage. Now Miranda was completely bound in the red silk, however now it seemed like there was a small pool of blood forming at her bare feet. The disturbing violin sounds still hummed in the air like an invisible thin wire thread. Miranda stood up from the barstool, stretching out an arm as if to reach towards the audience. The feathers and white flowers seemed to bloom from her skin. She shook her head, and a flurry of blossoms fell to the ground at her feet, soaking up the blood. The man's knife gleamed brutally again, twisting through the air to make another cut. There was a wretched crash as Miranda crumpled to the stage like a broken marionette; feathers, flowers, and blood flying everywhere. The nightmarish soundtrack stopped abruptly, Cayson had finished the painting, and the video man clicked the recording off. The three men walked up to the center of the stage, the one dropping his knife before helping up the seemingly lifeless Miranda. She wiped a streak of blood off her face, then the four of them bowed, turned around, and disappeared behind the thick curtain.
Inky noticed that Miranda definitely did have several long cuts on her back, and she was sure that it wasn't just some performance-artist's trick. The lights slowly came back on, and the shocked audience started to applaud and murmur amongst each other. Inky noticed that Dani had returned, and was standing in the back of the room with her arms crossed over her chest and a disapproving look on her face. She seemed pale, even through her tan, and looked slightly nauseated. The audience had slowly started to file out of Tapestry and down the street to the reception at the Gallery. Emma quickly finished her wine and paid their tab, pulling her brother and Inky along behind her to follow the crowd.
The Gallery loomed on the corner of the main street in town, an imposing red-brick building with semi-rotten scaffolding on one side. Yellow sodium-lights glowed outside, and the crowd filed in through the industrial-style metal door. Inside, there were various art exhibits in different alcoves, and a metal spiral staircase leading up to the main loft where everyone was gathering. Inky let her friends lead her up the stairs, to the open-air loft strung with miniature white lights, paper lanterns, and blood-red flowers strewn on the concrete floor.