36
CHRIS
"The glasshouse is going to look amazing in this location." Steph slipped her finger over the iPad, scrolling through photographs of the art gallery taken from every direction.
"Yes, I thought so. I'm not sure, as yet, how to position it in the room. It needs enough space for people to walk all the way around without compromise, but it needn't necessarily be in the dead center." He tapped on a pile of paper marked up with pen and pencil sketches. "I've marked out locations for most of the pieces on these pages, but I may well update it."
Steph glanced down at the small pile of paper on which Chris had sketched his visions. "As the idea behind the glasshouse is seeing what you don't normally see, the house should probably be side-on, so the first encounter of it is some angle of a house that you wouldn't normally see. Or they should put its front behind."
"Back to front. Steph, that's perfect. That's why you're the right woman for the job." The job in question involved helping to oversee the setup of the exhibition in London. As implied by the reputation of the artist and the title, The Glass Ceiling, many of the pieces were large, delicate, and complex. They required assembling on-site, and Chris needed all the help he could get.
"It's all your idea, Chris, I'm just reflecting back the things you've told me about your vision. And I know these layouts could all have changed by the time we get there, in fact, I'm expecting change. Just remember to tell me about them." A fellow artist, who also had space at the same studio, Steph understood how Chris worked.
Chris's phone buzzed. For the last few days, he dreaded phone calls in case it was one of the people vital to setting up the exhibition calling to cancel. The gallery arranged bringing in local muscle to help with lifting pieces into position, but Chris counted on several people who would be hard to replace at short notice because of their expertise. Not least the plumber to get liquid flowing through the clear glass pipework in his glass house. Rick's Removals and Sky High Scaffolds wouldn't be easy to replace at short notice either.
"I hope it's not that creepy ex-boyfriend of yours pestering you again. Do you want me to put him in his place when we're there?"
"Jeremy?" Chris wrinkled his nose. He'd told Steph about him. "No, it's okay, I'll deal with him when he shows up." Chris pulled his phone from his pocket and couldn't help but smile when he saw the name of the sender.
Frank.
Chris hadn't told Steph anything about Frank. Their first love affair lasted a weekend. The reunion had started off so promising and then plummeted to nothing at all within hours. There was nothing to tell. After both those events, Steph would have picked up on Chris's mood swings. As an artist, he was entitled to them.
"Judging by the look on your face, that's not from Jeremy. God, it makes me so mad. Totally not supportive while you were at the bottom of the up-and-coming ladder. And now you're nearer the top, he's interested."
"Now I've truly come up, he wants me to come all over him." Chris chuckled, his good mood boosted by reading Frank's many messages that day.
"Oh, too graphic."
"Honey, I've seen your sketches. Blurring the boundaries between pornography and art, I think the tagline says? Nothing I can say is too graphic for you."
Unable to argue, Steph laughed.
Chris keyed in his pin and read the message.
Disappointed, hurt, and upset after what happened at the party, Chris hadn't anticipated hearing from Frank again. And certainly hadn't expected to receive a stream of text messages six days later.
Declarations of regret, which sounded sincerely contrite. Frank had also asked to meet in person.
Sorry? After he had been so damn rude. And he may well feel sorry for Chris with his incurable condition, but sorrow and sympathy weren't what Chris ultimately wanted from a friend or lover. The messages didn't reveal what Frank actually had on his mind, or if he wanted anything more than the chance to say sorry.
With his imminent exhibition, Chris could do without the drama. Much of his future livelihood depended on the success of major exposure in top galleries like this one.
Putting the phone down without replying to the text messages, Chris wasn't sure what he wanted to do about the sexy scaffolder.
Ignore the messages forever?
Impossible. Frank was impossible to forget.
"What's wrong?"
"Everything is fine." Chris shook his head. "I think we're finished here." He tapped the sketchpad before him, drawing focus back to their work. "There's nothing more I can tell you until we're actually in the venue."
"You should go home, Chris, and get a good night's rest. You can't do any more here now." Correct as ever.
Chris had to acknowledge he could do with a good sleep, which he would miss out on once they started setting up the exhibition.
His phone buzzed again
"Perhaps he could take your mind off things." Steph smiled, knowingly.
"Not this one," Chris scowled.
"It's Jeremy?"
Chris nodded. Just as his phone buzzed yet again.
"He's so blimmin' persistent. I'll give him the runaround if he shows up at the exhibition while I'm there."
Tempted to ignore the message, but keen to stop his phone buzzing yet again, Chris opened it up. The last message wasn't from that irritant.
After this meeting with Steph, there was nothing else constructive for Chris to do until they met in London to set up at the gallery. Steph went off to her own studio, and Chris declined the suggestion that they meet for an after work drink.
"I am going to head home and stock up on sleep."
After Steph had left, Chris put away his sketch pads, turned off the light, and locked the door to the studio.
He'd barely walked a few feet along the corridor when his phone buzzed yet again. Hoping for Frank and not Jeremy, Chris dragged his phone out of his pocket to check.