Good. Me neither.
“I can’t believe Hex is still having this event,” a man whispered behind me to some other person I couldn’t see.
“Well, who knows if the rumors are really true,” the mystery person replied in a deep voice that could’ve only belonged to a man.
“Why would anybody create something as crazy as gossip about murder? I mean, it’s one thing to say that Hex is sleeping with some weird model or that he’s stolen art concepts from another artist, but why would someone make up the fact that a murder happened on his property?”
“People are jealous.”
“Not that jealous.”
“Well, I for one choose not to believe this. There was nothing in the news about it.”
“My sources said it happened today.”
“Sure it did.”
“Why would they lie?”
“Why would they tell the truth?”
“Really, Gordon? Are you going to spend all of your life being skeptical about what people say?”
“When a murder is involved, I will be.”
“I just don’t know. I mean, I received an invitation to Hex’s Bon Voyage Gala tomorrow night. I won’t go if people aren’t going to be safe.”
“You’ll go regardless. No one, especially not you, would ever miss a party done by Hex.”
“I have plans.”
“No. You don’t.”
“I may go to just stop by and say hi.”
“You’ll go and get drunk as always and right at midnight you’ll take off your pants and run around the dance floor like an amusing fool. We’ll laugh and take a picture to post on Facebook tomorrow, and then I’ll take you home where we will have the best sex of our life, eat a tub of butter pecan ice cream, and fall asleep as we watch an Audrey Hepburn movie.”
“I’m tired of Audrey Hepburn.”
“You’re never tired of her.”
“Fine. I’ll cancel my plans, but only to make sure you’re safe at this party.”
“I’m honored.”
Although a tiny chill ran up my spine, I smiled at the couple’s conversation and chose to not think of the murdered girl for too long, but instead sink myself back into the fabulous moment ahead of me.
Once the drag queens passed, a few floats done like the most famous paintings rolled by—Salvador Dali’s The Persistence of Memory, Frida Kahlo’s Diego on My Mind, and my most favorite, Pablo Picasso’s Three Musicians. Gourmet food trucks served as the finale. They parked in their prospective areas in front of the gallery and welcomed many over with claims of free wine and appetizer samples. Somewhere among the mob of eating and drinking spectators, a short man made a quick speech and Hex, along with Alvarez, cut the ribbon to open the doors. I jumped out of the way as people barreled in wearing excited faces. The gallery ranked high on my list of the most amazing experiences ever.
Someone tapped me on my back.
“Hey.” A woman with short red hair and green eyes stepped around me and shook my hand. She wore a sea green dress with little white flowers embroidered at the bottom and the sweetest perfume that reminded me of oatmeal cookies being baked on a summer’s afternoon. “You’re Hex’s new model. Right? I’m Patricia, one of the poets who live on the property.”
“Oh, hi. My name is Elle.”
“And aren’t you the infamous Archangel, too?” she asked.
I’d been afraid of people noticing me, which was why I had remained in the background and refused to stand in the front with Hex. I let out an awkward laugh. “Well, no one calls me Archangel anymore and I no longer work with Michael, so I’m trying to stay away from that name.”
She did a big show of twisting an imaginary key to the side of her closed lips, pulling it out, and throwing it away. “Then I shall never say a word of Michael or of you being an archangel again.”
“Awesome.”
Not having much else to say to each other, we stood there for several uncomfortable seconds.
“I’m sorry. Hex told everyone around the castle to introduce themselves to you. It seems you’re the newest addition to his collection. It was a shock to us all that you would be coming,” Patricia said. “I’m probably the first one to get to you and that’s mainly because I broke up with my boyfriend a good month ago and pretty much have been ostracized from my little social group here in Miami. It’s all of his friends. I wasn’t even going to come to the opening, but that castle is so depressing. Would you mind if I kind of hung out with you for a little bit? I figure you may not know anybody here either, since you’ve been standing out here by yourself for so long. I tend to go on and on and on when I’m nervous. I just don’t—”
I held up my hand. “I really only know Alvarez and Hex. I would love to hang out with you.”