Chapter 7
As had happened for the last opening at the gallery, Ryan’s boss at the restaurant had given him the night off, telling him he knew the show would be a success.
“God, I hope so,” Ryan had replied.
He said the same thing again as he double-checked himself in the mirror at his apartment while he waited for Merrick to pick him up. “Tie straight, hair combed.” He wondered if he should pull it back. It brushed his shoulders now, rather than the collar of his shirt. “Naw. It makes me look like what people think an artist should look like. If only Mr. Foster didn’t insist that I had to wear a suit…” He sighed, then grinned when he remembered Merrick offering to rent a tux for him. That would really have made me uncomfortable.
His phone chimed. When he answered, Merrick told him he w
