Chapter 9
The Lupine Gallery
The Lupine Gallery. An artistic name. It suited it. Oil landscapes lined one wall, while bright abstract paintings covered another. Pottery sat on polished wooden pedestals, each piece more intricate than the last. Delicate sculptures occupied the center of the room, roped off just enough to keep curious hands away. I found myself wandering slowly, stopping every few feet to admire another artist’s work.
I found myself wondering where my own art would hang if I ever displayed it here. Was there a special section reserved for locals? I could almost imagine my name on one of the small plaques beside the other artists. That thought both excited and terrified me.
I turned a corner and saw Detective Valentine talking to a Mixed Berry woman with dark red skin, and yellow hair and eyes. She was wearing a gallery staff lanyard.
Did it happen again? I wandered closer to them, trying not to make it too obvious I wanted to know what was going on. They were standing beside an empty space on the wall with a name plaque near it.
“Yes.” The Mixed Berry was answering a question Detective Valentine had just asked. “It was stolen last night. It was another one by one of our local artists. Poor thing was so upset when we let them know.”
I balked. Who would keep targeting a tiny gallery like this?
“Mr. Steel is beside himself about it. Feels like it’s his fault we keep getting robbed.”
“And that would be Neptune, correct? Owner of the building?” The detective seemed like she already knew, and was just confirming.
“That’s right.”
“I’ll need to speak with him.”
“Of course. Whatever you need, Detective.”
The two women started back down the hall my way. I made a split second decision and acted before my anxiety had a chance to stop me. “Excuse me!”
They stopped in front of me, looking at me expectantly.
I swallowed. I hadn’t noticed when she had been at my house, I was too distraught. The detective was pretty. She had dark pink skin that was so smooth and blemish free, she could be an actress on one of those acne wash commercials. Sharp, piercing almond shaped eyes that felt like they could see right through me. Soft looking long hair that was currently up in a high ponytail. They were both the same shade of light pink, creating an appealing contrast with her skin.
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Speak, Pearl! “Did I— did I hear that another painting was stolen?”
“It’s not been made public yet, but since you were already here and you are technically involved, yes. Don’t go talking about it until the news is out.” She looked serious. Like there would be consequences if I did. Scary.
“Of course. I’m sorry, I’m just worried because I was hoping to get a few pieces installed here.” I paused. “I’m a painter.” I explained needlessly, for the benefit of the woman I didn’t know.
The Mixed Berry replied. “If that’s the case, you would need to schedule a meeting with Mr. Steel to— Wait a minute, you wouldn’t happen to be Pearl, would you? New artist in town?” Her intelligent yellow eyes said she already knew the answer.
“That’s me.” I said, suddenly anxious all over again.
“I thought so. Don’t worry about the theft, Astral’s on the case. Right, Detective?”
Detective Valentine nodded once sharply. “Right. Though we still haven’t found anything about your cottage break in yet, Pearl.”
“Ah. Well, you’ll understand if I’m having second thoughts again. I’ve debated this decision for a while now.” My eyes drifted down the hall. My own break-in and another gallery theft? There had to be some connection. Or maybe I was just looking for one.
“Of course. If you would like to have a meeting with Mr. Steel to discuss the safety of your art, I can arrange that.” She spoke with the polished confidence of someone who spent every day greeting artists and patrons alike. “And I am sorry to hear your home was broken into.”
“Um, thanks.” Anxious. Can’t say no. “Sure, a meeting would be fine.”
“Excellent. Have the front desk receptionist get your contact info and we’ll set up a meeting. If you’ll excuse me, I actually have my own meeting to get to right now. Pearl. Detective.” She promptly hurried off towards the staircase. The detective said goodbye as well and left the gallery.
Curse my anxiety. Now I have to have a formal meeting with the owner of the gallery, and he is probably super intimidating and already angry about his gallery’s art being stolen. Why didn’t I bring Mai with me? I begrudgingly gave my contact info to the pure yellow Shade woman working at the front desk.
As I entered the dimly lit bar again, I found myself scanning the booths and tables without even thinking about it. No dark purple Berry off in some corner alone. Don’t be silly, Pearl. Urchin isn’t going to be here everyday, just hoping to run into you. He’s probably doing some job for someone.
I was still disappointed he wasn’t there.
As I sat on my newly thrifted bright yellow couch, I stared at a few paintings I had completed recently. I needed to get my thoughts out of my head or I was going to go insane. I wandered to my room, sat down at the desk, and pulled out my journal. It was becoming a little ritual almost.
July 30th
Dear Journal,
I might be putting some paintings in the gallery here. I don’t know. I thought I was ready. Do I dare with an art thief around that clearly has a vendetta against it? When my own home was infiltrated and a painting stolen?
I glanced toward the living room. I had installed extra bolts on the doors and a relatively cheap security system on the windows. There would be no more stolen paintings from my house.
Do I even continue to paint? I feel like a piece of myself has been violated. I pour so much of myself into my art. It was like a punch to the gut to find out the lake painting was missing. Do I want to potentially feel that again?
This makes me remember a time when I was young. In high school. My mother had forbidden any art supplies other than white, grays, and silvers. My father had snuck me in the primary colors under some work papers he brought home, and I painted with them in secret. I learned so much about mixing the shades I needed to create what my mind's eye could envision. My art had been hidden away, but it was my favorite piece of myself. Until—
One day my mother caught me in the act of painting a rainbow over a lake. She had barged in talking about a potential match just as I was adding the yellow. She had been livid. She had yelled, ranted, and destroyed the canvas. She searched and searched my room, knowing I most likely had others hidden. She found them. Destroyed my other pieces, discarded my paint, even the whites. She had to have known where I got the paint, but she never addressed it.
No. I hadn’t given up painting then, and I wasn’t going to now either.
Anyway, even if there wasn’t a thief, was my work even good enough to be displayed in a gallery? Would Mr. Steel even agree to display them? Do I have imposter syndrome, or are my paintings actually good enough? Would one of them end up stolen like the others if I did display them there?
I just don’t know what to do.
Anxious,
Pearl
I closed my eyes, trying to shake it off. Tomorrow I’d make a decision. Tonight, I was going to try not to think about it.