Picture This

Ignoring him, she continued to read the article out loud: ‘Felix Baum, l’enfant terrible of the gallery world and one of New York’s most eligible and notoriously single bachelors, was seen leaving the annual Met Ball with British artist Susie Thomas, the latest celebrity artist to join his stable. Ms Thomas, who appeared a little worse for wear, will have her first solo American show at Baum #2 in May – one of the most-anticipated exhibitions of the year. Thomas, famous for her sexually provocative and explicit installations, has been tight-lipped about the subject matter of the upcoming exhibition. One can only hope Felix Baum is not part of her research. Although since his record sale of Hopper’s Girl in a Yellow Square of Light, Baum can certainly afford to fund Ms Thomas’s artistic peccadilloes, whether either of them can afford an emotional dalliance is a whole other question.’ She put the paper down. ‘I’ve lost my appetite. They’ve made me sound like Medusa,’ she told him.

‘Don’t let it get to you. It’s just white noise and it’s fabulous for the show.’

‘Is it?’

‘Hey, if you care, they’re winning.’ But he could see that she did, and a seed of panic started to bubble up in the pit of his stomach.

Susie reached into the pocket of his shorts that she was wearing and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. She lit up.

‘Susie, it’s no smoking.’

‘I don’t give a fuck.’ She stubbed the cigarette out on a side plate anyway.

The coffees arrived, then two plates of food, piled high. Susie reached for the container of maple syrup and poured it generously over the pancakes and bacon. Now the young couple at the other end of the table were openly gawking at them. The young woman (braided hair and nose piercing) leaned over with her menu in her hand.

‘Excuse me, but aren’t you Susie Thomas?’

‘Apparently,’ Susie replied. Shooting Felix a withering look, she pointed to him: ‘And he’s the most notorious bachelor in New York City.’

‘I am totally crazy for your work. I hate to ask, but I’d really love an autograph – yours, not his,’ the young woman specified, indicating a bemused Felix.

Stony-faced, Susie picked up the plastic container again and wrote her signature in maple syrup all over the menu. The young couple watched reverently as she finished with a full stop, then licked the nozzle of the container.

‘That is so-o-o radical,’ the young bearded man murmured. After sliding the menu back to their side of the table, he turned to his girlfriend. ‘We can freeze it,’ he reassured her.

Over Susie’s shoulder Felix noticed the photographer he’d tipped off standing at the entrance of the restaurant. As she turned back to her food, he took the opportunity to catch the photographer’s attention. In seconds the man managed to install himself on the table behind them and, unnoticed by Susie, began clicking away.

On the other side of the restaurant Gabriel waited until he saw that Felix had asked for the bill, then got up and walked over to the counter. Sometimes it paid to be a great forger. This was one of those times.

*

The waitress placed the bill on the table. Susie reached for it before Felix had a chance to.

‘I’m paying. No argument,’ she insisted, smiling, then unfolded the bill. There was a pause as she read it, then her face fell in sudden horror.

‘C’mon, it can’t be that expensive,’ Felix joked, thinking she was being funny. He took the bill from her. Drawn next to the amount, with a characteristic flourish, was a winged serpent with the initials MD – and the words You owe me. He instantly recognised Maxine’s handwriting.

*

Gabriel’s stomach tightened as he watched Felix’s expression. His shock was unmistakable. He’d never seen the other man look so exposed. So Felix had understood the threat explicitly. He had to be implicated in Maxine Doubleday’s death.

For the first time in their relationship, Gabriel felt the power shift back to him.

*

Susie pointed at the winged serpent scrawled on the bill. ‘You know what that is, don’t you?’

‘I think so.’ Felix answered cautiously, praying she hadn’t seen his initial reaction.

‘It’s Maxine’s signature. Felix, you knew her better than you claimed.’

He tried to take her hand. ‘Susie, I haven’t lied to you, I’d never lie to you. Didn’t I risk everything by telling you the truth last night?’

‘So why is this happening?’

He stared at her, his own fear rising up like bile at the back of his throat. He wanted to tell her about the lock of hair, the presence he thought he’d felt in the private rooms at his gallery, the disturbing sense that, since they became lovers, he’d felt as if his every move was being shadowed by a presence so out of context in his very material world he couldn’t even bring himself to name the possibility: I am haunted.

‘Wait here.’ He leapt to his feet, looking wildly round the café for someone who might have set him up. There was no one, only couples engrossed in each other, a few families and tourists. Yet there was something deceptive about the tranquil scene that was deeply disturbing. He headed over to the waitress who’d handed them the bill. She claimed to know nothing. By the time he’d returned to the table Susie had left.