The Seduction - Art Bourgeau Read Online Free PDF Page B

I don't understand this
business about moving there."
    "It's not immediate. The show's not until spring
so I won't be going for about a month . . ."
    "But, darling, I don't understand why you need
to go at all. Here you've got friends, an established career, a good
life, a nice loft. Why don't you do the show but stay here?"
    "Missy, I can't. This is my chance to move up.
I've done all I can here. If I want to make a bigger name for myself
I have to go to New York. It's the same for actors. If you want to be
in the theater, it's New York. Movies, it's Hollywood. For an artist,
no question, you have to go to New York."
    "Thank you for the lecture. I'm not exactly a
stranger in the art business-"
    "Then please don't act like one. I wish for once
you'd think of somebody besides yourself and be happy for me."
    "Like Miss Laura here?"
    "I think it's time for a bottle of celebratory
champagne," Justin cut in, ever the diplomatic mein host.
    Missy ignored him. "I still don't see why it's
necessary to move there so soon for a spring show. Couldn't you wait
and move there, say, in March?" She knew she was pushing it,
losing control but couldn't stop herself—and she hated this fucking
Laura for being responsible . . .
    "The gallery owner," Carl said, now trying
to calm matters, "wants me there through the holidays, for
parties and so forth. It's a bore but he says if I'm a no-show there
will be no show."
    Nicely put, he thought.
    "I think some champagne would be just right,"
said Laura enjoying the byplay even though it did make her uneasy.
Actually there was nothing between her and Carl, not the way Missy
Wakefield thought. But it was up to Carl to enlighten her.
    “ So you're just going to pick up and run out on
your friends like you've done with everything else in your life."
    "Whoa, time out. You're understandably upset,
Missy, but enough is enough," said Justin, raising both hands.
He hated scenes in his establishment, bad for business.
    Missy looked at him. "You're right, Justin,
enough is enough," and she picked up her purse and headed for
the ladies room. Moving away from the table, she thought she had
never felt more alone and betrayed. Goddamn them all.
    She slammed the door of the ladies room behind her.
She needed some privacy to regain her composure, but instead found
Lois Fortier, Justin's wife, a striking redhead in a simple, black
Halston. She was standing at the sink touching up her makeup and
didn't glance in Missy's direction at the sound of the door; she let
the mirror do the work for her.
    "From- the look on your face I'd say you've
heard the news," said Lois not unkindly.
    Missy locked the door and walked toward the sink.
"What news?"
    "About Carl moving to New York?"
    "Oh, that," she said as she fumbled in her
purse. "Yes, I've heard about it and I think it's very exciting.
This is the break we've been waiting for all along."
    Lois turned and looked at her.
    Missy took out her compact, opened it, and laid it on
the edge of the sink.
    "Of course, there's nothing I want more than to
see Carl become the biggest and most famous artist in the world—"
    . . .And move in with Laura, Lois thought but didn't
say as she smoothed her dress over her hips and leaned forward to
make sure there was no lipstick on her teeth.
    "Look, dear, I know the way men are. There's no
use fighting it. You just can't trust them. Soon as you turn your
back they're trying to replace you with a younger model. I keep
waiting for Justin to trade me in. Of course, if I ever find out he
has I'll throttle him . .
    While Lois was chatting on, trying to make Missy feel
better, Missy took a small packet about the size of a stick of
chewing gum out of her purse and was carefully pouring some white
powder from it onto the mirror of her compact. When she heard the
words "younger model" she felt no special comfort, even
though this Laura could be ten years older than she was. In Carl's
case the older woman seemed an attraction—though a pretty