The Promotion (Contemporary Reverse Harem 3)

I walked into the gallery and immediately spotted my buddy Scott, the owner.

“Hey, bro. How’s it going?” he asked, giving me his usual bear hug.

“I’m well, dude.” I looked around the gallery. It was full of something he called neo-modern. If you asked me, it was all weird as shit, but I kept my mouth shut when it came to art. He knew what he was doing, no doubt. In less than one hour, the place would be full of buyers, and by the end of the night, he’d be nearly if not completely sold out. I’d bought a couple paintings he’d insisted I purchase. I wasn’t thrilled with them, but I had to admit, when I’d gotten them home and hung them, they’d done wonders for my bachelor apartment.

“So, I believe we’ll see some very beautiful women here tonight, my friend,” Scott said. He might have had strange taste in art, but he had great taste in women.

“Ah. I actually have someone joining me here tonight.”

He rolled his eyes. “Not another fix-up by your sister-in-law, is it?”

Oh, that’s right. He’d heard about the last one.

“Actually, this one I did meet through my sister-in-law. But this girl is cool. You’ll see.”

The door buzzed behind us, and Maizy walked in, taking my goddamn breath away. Scott sucked in his breath, also in appreciation.

She had enough hair for two people, and the masses of it tumbled down her shoulders in waves I was dying to run my hands through. Maybe I’d get the chance to, later.

She was wearing high-heeled fuck me shoes and this tight little red dress that flared out just above her knees.

And the glasses. Of course, she had the glasses. After she spotted me from across the room, she pushed them up on her head and made her way over to us.

“Holy shit,” Scott whispered before she got to us.

“Anson!” she said, throwing her arms around me.

I could get to liking that.

“Maizy, this is my friend Scott. He’s the owner of the gallery and our host tonight.”

“Great place,” she said, looking around. “I’ve walked past here many times and always wanted to come in.”

Scott could barely take his eyes off her. “Well, it’s about time we had you visit, isn’t it? Enjoy your evening, and let me know if you have any questions about the artwork. I need to take care of my introverted artist over there before he has a panic attack.” He scooted off.

“Can I get you a drink?” I asked Maizy.

“Yes, please. After the day I had…”

I grabbed her a glass of white wine from a passing waiter.

“Don’t tell me,” I said, taking a swig of my beer. “Your boss getting under your skin?”

She rolled her eyes. God, I could feel her pain.

She looked down at the floor, slowly shaking her head, as if she was holding something in. Which I guess she was because she exhaled this big blast of air.

She started to speak and stopped. Then she started again.

“How does your poor brother tolerate that woman?” She looked relieved, having expelled the negative thought.

“I know. I wonder the same thing. I have no idea. He was a nice, normal guy until she pussy-whipped him.”

She shook it out of her head. “Ugh. Let’s not let her ruin our evening.”

“Cheers to that,” I said, clinking my beer bottle against her wine. “Let’s grab a seat over here.”

Not only did Scott know how to pick out art that sold like hotcakes, he’d also done up his gallery like it was a little nightclub—with the lights on full-blast so you could admire (and buy) the artwork, of course. I led Maizy to an intimate little seating area where we sank into a cushy sofa. She watched the people coming in, walking around, checking out the artwork.