Leopard's Prey
Page 98
She spotted her manager and the man that had somehow become his shadow in the crowd, as well as a few of the men she’d recognized as bodyguards at her club. She knew they were leopards. Joshua Tregre and Elijah Lospostos, two men she knew Drake or Remy had assigned to watch over her. As if that wasn’t enough, she spotted two of Remy’s brothers looking elegant in suits, pretending to drink as they mingled with the crowd. There was no pretense about eating, she noted with a small laugh.
Arnaud stood off to the side, a drink in hand, looking more elegant than usual in a black suit and white shirt. He turned as she walked in, lifting his drink in salute, and managing a smile as he came toward them.
He leaned in to brush a kiss against her cheek. “Thank God you’ve come, Bijou. You know how I despise small talk.” He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “You’ve saved me.” Once he had her securely anchored to his side, he smiled at Drake and Saria. “Thank you for bringing her. It was becoming a nightmare. I’m not good with people, just my art, and these shows can be excruciating.”
Drake nodded, frowning a little as Arnaud set down his drink and put his palm over Bijou’s hand. “I can understand. I’m not the best with people either. I like to stay in the background.”
Arnaud turned toward him as if for the first time, Drake had caught his interest. “You’re married to Bijou’s friend,” he said and held out his hand.
“Drake Donovan,” Drake greeted. “My wife, Saria.”
“I’m sorry, Arnaud. We’ve been friends for so long it didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t know Drake and Saria,” Bijou said. “I think I’ve completely forgotten my manners.”
“You’re forgiven as long as you do all the talking tonight and make me look good,” Arnaud replied, once again covering his hand with hers. “I hope you both enjoy yourselves. We have to make the rounds.”
Arnaud didn’t wait for a reply, forgetting all about them as was his way. He walked Bijou over to his latest sculpture, a five-foot waterfall of color and texture that was breathtaking. “What do you think of this piece? They never come out the way I expect. As I’m working they take on a life of their own.”
The piece was titled “Giving Back.” The critics had given the sculpture rave reviews and several had attributed the piece to “what it feels like to fall in love.”
Bijou studied the waterfall from every angle as she knew Arnaud preferred before she answered him. He had actually captured individual drops as well as the feeling of water rushing over a cliff. Looking closely she could see more than the water. Images began to emerge beneath and in the flowing waves of water.
Entranced, she moved closer. The images appeared and disappeared according to the light shining on the sculpture and whichever direction she was looking from. She studied the images, taking her time, knowing Arnaud appreciated a thorough inspection before pronouncing judgment. He stayed very silent as she moved back and forth, trying to capture each aspect.
It seemed an impossible task to find everything he’d molded into the water. Each time she thought she’d found them all, when she moved, something else revealed itself. “This is amazin’, Arnaud. Incredible. I don’ know how you could even manage to do this. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. The weird thing is, the more I look at it, the more beautiful it becomes.”
“What do you think I’m trying to say?”
This was always the most difficult moment. Arnaud made statements with his sculptures. He didn’t mind the critics getting it wrong, but it mattered to him that she saw his vision, because she was one of the few people he allowed into his small circle of friends. She walked around the sculpture one more time.
“It isn’t about fallin’ in love,” Bijou said. She looked up at him. “At least, that’s not what it says to me. All the drops are individual until they hit halfway down the waterfall and then they blend together, revealin’ all the faces pourin’ over the cliff and flowin’ to the bottom into the pool. When I look at it, I see the life in the universe—the way each form of life is on an individual journey as we take that free fall. We come together back in the universe . . .” She bit her lip. “I’m not sayin’ this very well, Arnaud, but for me it’s a statement on the universe and life and death. That’s what I see when I look at this piece.”
A slow smile lit up his face for one brief moment and then faded away. “You always ‘get’ me, Bijou. I believe we all free-fall through the world and then the universe absorbs us back into it one way or another and we give back to it.”
“No matter what it means to others, Arnaud, and that’s the true beauty of art, everyone sees what they need to see, this sculpture is truly wonderful.”
“It’s my favorite of all of them.”
“You didn’t just do faces like everyone would expect,” she observed. There was the curve of hair, a perfect mouth, animals and plants, bits and pieces of various living things captured in his sculpture.
“Our life-form shares the planet with millions of other life-forms,” he said. “And then all of us go back to dust to feed the Earth.”
“I don’ know if that’s beautiful or terrifyin’,” Bijou said.
“Of course it’s beautiful. Our life-form is beautiful, but not always those that inhabit the form are. You happen to be very rare, Bijou.” He looked around the crowded room, the people in dozens of conversations, sipping on expensive wine and champagne and eating from the hors d’oeuvres trays the waiters passed around. “I think you’ve found a few friends who seem to be very much like you.”
Arnaud stood off to the side, a drink in hand, looking more elegant than usual in a black suit and white shirt. He turned as she walked in, lifting his drink in salute, and managing a smile as he came toward them.
He leaned in to brush a kiss against her cheek. “Thank God you’ve come, Bijou. You know how I despise small talk.” He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm. “You’ve saved me.” Once he had her securely anchored to his side, he smiled at Drake and Saria. “Thank you for bringing her. It was becoming a nightmare. I’m not good with people, just my art, and these shows can be excruciating.”
Drake nodded, frowning a little as Arnaud set down his drink and put his palm over Bijou’s hand. “I can understand. I’m not the best with people either. I like to stay in the background.”
Arnaud turned toward him as if for the first time, Drake had caught his interest. “You’re married to Bijou’s friend,” he said and held out his hand.
“Drake Donovan,” Drake greeted. “My wife, Saria.”
“I’m sorry, Arnaud. We’ve been friends for so long it didn’t occur to me that you wouldn’t know Drake and Saria,” Bijou said. “I think I’ve completely forgotten my manners.”
“You’re forgiven as long as you do all the talking tonight and make me look good,” Arnaud replied, once again covering his hand with hers. “I hope you both enjoy yourselves. We have to make the rounds.”
Arnaud didn’t wait for a reply, forgetting all about them as was his way. He walked Bijou over to his latest sculpture, a five-foot waterfall of color and texture that was breathtaking. “What do you think of this piece? They never come out the way I expect. As I’m working they take on a life of their own.”
The piece was titled “Giving Back.” The critics had given the sculpture rave reviews and several had attributed the piece to “what it feels like to fall in love.”
Bijou studied the waterfall from every angle as she knew Arnaud preferred before she answered him. He had actually captured individual drops as well as the feeling of water rushing over a cliff. Looking closely she could see more than the water. Images began to emerge beneath and in the flowing waves of water.
Entranced, she moved closer. The images appeared and disappeared according to the light shining on the sculpture and whichever direction she was looking from. She studied the images, taking her time, knowing Arnaud appreciated a thorough inspection before pronouncing judgment. He stayed very silent as she moved back and forth, trying to capture each aspect.
It seemed an impossible task to find everything he’d molded into the water. Each time she thought she’d found them all, when she moved, something else revealed itself. “This is amazin’, Arnaud. Incredible. I don’ know how you could even manage to do this. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. The weird thing is, the more I look at it, the more beautiful it becomes.”
“What do you think I’m trying to say?”
This was always the most difficult moment. Arnaud made statements with his sculptures. He didn’t mind the critics getting it wrong, but it mattered to him that she saw his vision, because she was one of the few people he allowed into his small circle of friends. She walked around the sculpture one more time.
“It isn’t about fallin’ in love,” Bijou said. She looked up at him. “At least, that’s not what it says to me. All the drops are individual until they hit halfway down the waterfall and then they blend together, revealin’ all the faces pourin’ over the cliff and flowin’ to the bottom into the pool. When I look at it, I see the life in the universe—the way each form of life is on an individual journey as we take that free fall. We come together back in the universe . . .” She bit her lip. “I’m not sayin’ this very well, Arnaud, but for me it’s a statement on the universe and life and death. That’s what I see when I look at this piece.”
A slow smile lit up his face for one brief moment and then faded away. “You always ‘get’ me, Bijou. I believe we all free-fall through the world and then the universe absorbs us back into it one way or another and we give back to it.”
“No matter what it means to others, Arnaud, and that’s the true beauty of art, everyone sees what they need to see, this sculpture is truly wonderful.”
“It’s my favorite of all of them.”
“You didn’t just do faces like everyone would expect,” she observed. There was the curve of hair, a perfect mouth, animals and plants, bits and pieces of various living things captured in his sculpture.
“Our life-form shares the planet with millions of other life-forms,” he said. “And then all of us go back to dust to feed the Earth.”
“I don’ know if that’s beautiful or terrifyin’,” Bijou said.
“Of course it’s beautiful. Our life-form is beautiful, but not always those that inhabit the form are. You happen to be very rare, Bijou.” He looked around the crowded room, the people in dozens of conversations, sipping on expensive wine and champagne and eating from the hors d’oeuvres trays the waiters passed around. “I think you’ve found a few friends who seem to be very much like you.”
