“You just like it because it looks like something Connor would paint for you at school,” she laughed.
“I have to agree; it does look
a lot like one of his paintings. Except he doesn’t charge as much for his artwork. I could make a real killing if I started marketing his school artwork. Maybe I should get started on that.”
“How is Connor doing in kindergarten?” Markus asked.
“Really good. I like that he doesn’t have to go to daycare all day. The school day is much better because he really loves to be busy, just like his dad. I don’t think he ever sits down.”
The mention of my late husband quickly had both Mattie and Markus quiet. Anytime I mentioned Spencer, people didn’t know what to say. It was as if I had set off a bomb in the room. First, total silence; then, a quick change of subject so no one had to talk about the dead husband or that fact that I was officially a widow at only twenty-seven years of age.
“Do you think anyone will buy this?” Mattie asked as she changed the subject to avoid being uncomfortable. “It seems like a lot of money for someone to pay for one painting. I mean, not even a rich person would want to pay this much, right?”
“I don’t know, probably. There are a lot of really wealthy people here, and art is so subjective. Maybe the painting will mean something to the person who purchases it. You just never know.”
“It blows my mind that there are people in the world who have an extra million dollars to just buy spattered paintings. I mean, think about it: if they can afford a painting like this, it means they’ve paid for all their bills, all the fun extra stuff, probably have a summer house and tons of extra money. You don’t just spend this kind of money if it’s your last million dollars. The person who buys this is going to be so filthy rich, they literally think this is just a fun purchase. That’s mindboggling to me.”
“A lot of our clients at work are this rich. That’s why it’s called Dating the Rich, Mattie,” I laughed.
“Technically, I know that, but it’s always an abstract thing since I’m just on the phones for customer service issues. Really, most of my conversations are with ditzy girls who are trying to set up their profiles and can’t figure out how to upload their scantily-clad photos. It’s odd to me that these girls end up landing the rich guys. I mean, come on, do they have no shame, at all? These guys are actually just looking for a piece of ass.”
“Yep, that’s basically what we do. Hook up old, rich men with beautiful, young women who want their money,” I said, and we both busted into laughter.
The dating criteria some of the men from our website had seemed a little ridiculous. Many of them were simply looking for a pretty girl to show off and didn’t actually care if she was smart, career oriented, or had any goals in her life. There were some guys who seemed to be looking for a real partner and love match, but they were much fewer than the other type of guys.
“Excuse me, ladies,” a young man said as he walked past us to put a sold magnet over the placard for the painting we were looking at.
“It sold? I can’t believe that,” Mattie exclaimed.
“Yep, we only have a couple paintings left; they are over there, if you’re interested.”
“Okay, thanks,” she replied as she tried to play off her shock as being upset because she was just about to buy it. I could hardly contain my laughter and turned away so the worker couldn’t see me. “I’ll go take a look. Thank you so much.”
“Hey, doll face,” the handsome Brooklyn man said as I turned almost directly into his chest. If I hadn’t stopped quickly, I would have run smack dab into him.
I had to admit the firmness of his chest was very appealing. It had been months since I had been laid, and although that wasn’t a driving factor in choosing a date, I was starting to consider the benefits of a one-night stand with this guy. With a babysitter in place and a whole evening to myself, it did seem like a waste not to at least have some sex.
“Are you enjoying the art show?” I asked in an effort to test the waters and see if I could handle an evening with him.
If I wasn’t looking for a guy to actually date, I could settle for someone a little less than perfect. This guy was handsome. He would probably be fun in bed. I started to play over the possibility of bringing him home with me, but first, I’d have to at least have a full conversation with the guy.
That was my problem when it came to one-night stands. I had this crazy notion in my head that they needed to be able to hold a conversation. It was certainly a woman-type of criteria for a one-night stand; I doubted guys worried if their women could hold a conversation before they brought them home for a night full of fun.
“Sure, man, this is on point. I love art shit.”
“Will you be buying any of the pieces?” I ventured to guess he wasn’t wealthy enough to purchase one of the paintings, but you never knew what someone had in their wallet.
Money wasn’t all that important to me, though. I didn’t plan on settling down with any man in the near future, so I was only asking as a form of reference to see why this guy was at the art show. If he was there to purchase something, at least I’d know we had art in common.
“Yeah, I might,” he said unconvincingly. “You think I should buy some of this painting crap?”
That was it: I couldn’t pretend to like this guy long enough to sleep with him. I could hardly stand having a conversation with him. This was exactly why my life as a one-night stand type of woman was so limited. I couldn’t sleep with someone I didn’t at least like, even if it was only going to be for one night.
“Well, I need to get back to my friends. It was nice talking to you. If you’re interested, I work at a high-end dating site and they are always looking for good-looking guys to join. Here’s a card,” I said, as I started to turn back to my friends.
“Hey, don’t leave yet,” he said as he grabbed my arm.
I turned back slowly and looked down at my arm and then up to him. My mouth pressed tightly in anger, and I waited to see if he would let go on his own or if I was going to have to punch him in the face. I really had no qualms about punching the guy right there, in front of everyone.