As soon as he arrived at “Charles De Gaulle” airport, Dominic was in for a rather unpleasant surprise. Jean was there and he was not alone. Melanie was with him. Apparently, she had not been able to find a ticket for the next available flight. More than that, she appeared to be in a very festive mood, claiming that she would at last visit New York City and also, meet Marianne.

Eight-hour trip to New York. That’s a lot of Melanie. I got news for you, darling. Marianne’s in a coma. Oh well… You can always hope, I guess.

Sadly for Dominic, the trip went precisely as he predicted. Melanie was ecstatic. She would not stop talking about “true love”, dropping innuendos all the time, whereas Jean preferred to keep his mouth shut and pretend to listen to her. At first, Dominic considered confronting her. In his mind, she was being unrealistic. Still, too emotionally drained by the events of the past few days and unwilling to snap yet again, he chose to ignore her and browse the internet on his laptop.

Upon landing, despite the jet lag and the fact that it was already 10pm, Melanie announced to them that she was going to New York Metropolitan Hospital. Jean tried to change her mind; yet, she remained adamant. A crazy thought ran through Dominic’s mind, and that was to follow her. However, it wasn’t long before he rejected that notion. He would not risk running into Rachel, let alone in such a public place. Therefore, he selected to go to their hotel in Manhattan and get some much needed rest.

The next morning, the two friends had an appointment with Peter Perkins in his art gallery. For the first time since his breakup with Rachel, Dominic was feeling better. The idea of reviewing other artists’ work excited him. Jean was all smiles, but for different reasons. He couldn’t take his eyes off the massive, steel towers. The bustle of Manhattan appealed to him. He didn’t seem to mind the heavy traffic or the honking, as they made their way to the gallery on that sunny, early-April day.

Its wide glass façade was lined with oil paintings, as a young, female employee welcomed them. The interior was no different. As they headed towards Perkins’s office, Dominic was mesmerized by the sheer beauty of the paintings all around them. Regardless of their content, they were well-crafted, with fine lines and deep, rich colors. The female clerk left them outside her boss’s office and excused herself. Perkins himself was a tall, balding man in his early 60’s. His face creased into a polite smile, as their eyes met.

“Come in! Come in!” He said in a hoarse voice, jumping from his executive chair. “A royal in my gallery. Boy, what a pleasure.”

“Nice to meet you,” Dominic offered his hand for a handshake. Perkins took it into his hands and shook firmly.

“Bonjour, monsieur,” Jean grinned. “My name is Jean Abidal. I’m the king’s lawyer.”

“Cute accent,” Perkins remarked, shaking his hand as well. “Please, be seated.”

Dominic cast a few, intent glances at the walls, as they obliged. The paintings in Perkins’s office were just as good as the ones outside, but there was one, major difference: They were all female portraits.

“My wife is French,” Perkins continued, resuming his seat. “I can’t get used to that accent,”

“French?” Jean’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Where is she from, exactly?”

“She told me once, but I can’t remember. French city names sound funny,” Perkins replied, a touch of irony in his voice. “Anyway, let’s get down to business. You should know that she’s the one who chose you, your majesty. Colette has a thing for portraits. When she saw yours online, she went ‘Aaaah’.”

“Is that why you have portraits in here?” Dominic asked.

“That’s right,” Perkins gave a quick nod. “She picked them. Now, your lawyer said you didn’t like the idea of exhibiting your work. Why’s that?”

“I paint for my own pleasure,” Dominic declared. “I don’t do it for the money.”

“Well, too bad,” Perkins’s smile disappeared. “You’re an excellent painter. I know people who’d pay a lot of money to buy one of your paintings. Especially, my wife.”

“Thank you, but I’m confused,” Dominic confessed, his voice dropping an octave. “There are hundreds of art critics in New York. Why me?”

“Art critics are not actual painters,” Perkins attempted a businesslike tone. “Some of them are good, but most of them are just too snobby. You can show them a hundred, great paintings and I doubt they’ll like any of them. Plus, Colette would like to discuss your conclusions in her native tongue.”

“Where is she?” Jean interjected.

“My best guess is she’s shopping,” Perkins smirked. “When can you start?”

“Tomorrow,” Dominic’s answer was quick. “I still need to recover from all the jet lag.”

“I know the feeling,” Perkins nodded. “What about your fee?”

“Excuse us for a second. Hey, Jean, can I talk to you?” He continued to stand, rising to his impressive, 6’3” stature. Taking his friend aside, he leaned closer to him and whispered in his ear:

“What should I say?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to do this ‘pro bono’,” Jean whispered.

“Actually, I have a better idea. Phone home. Tell them to ship over twenty one of my paintings, including Rachel’s, ASAP. It’s the one against the right wall in my attic,” Dominic requested.

“Twenty one?” Jean squinted at him. Ignoring him, Dominic turned his attention back to Perkins.

“I changed my mind about my paintings,” He spoke in a businesslike tone. “I’ll put up twenty of them for sale, on one condition,”

“That’s great news!” Perkins cheered, as his smile returned. “What’s your condition?”

“How much do you think my paintings are worth, Mr. Perkins?” Dominic answered his question with a question.

“That’s hard to tell,” Perkins shrugged. “A friend of mine said he would pay fifty grand for one of them,”

“My condition is that you cut your commission down to 50%. That’s what most art galleries make.” Dominic leaned over the desk, his hands planted firmly on the edges. “I do the other job for free. My money goes to local orphanages. Mr. Abidal will oversee the procedure. Do we have a deal?”

“Hell, yeah!” Perkins literally jumped from his seat, offering his hand.

“Good,” Dominic gave an appraising nod, as they shook hands. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Thanks a lot,” Perkins could not stop smiling. Dominic and Jean turned around and left his office. The Frenchman was in awe, as they walked alongside each other.

“That was superb!” He cheered. “How did you know about their commission?”

“I did some research on the flight over,” Dominic winked at him. “I couldn’t stand Melanie’s rant.”

“What are you planning to do with Rachel’s portrait?” Jean asked.

“I thought you were smart,” Dominic used a chiding tone. “Find me her address.”