“Danny…”
“Not now. Okay?” Danny spared him a glance before leaving, and the anguish in those wide, expressive eyes hurt to see. Dammit, the day just kept getting worse.
Chapter Sixteen
Wednesday morning, Randy called the number Thomas had given him for a lawyer to discuss handing over the painting. On the second ring, a woman answered. “Good morning. O’Sullivan Harris, this is David James’s office. May I help you?”
“Yes. My name is Randy Vaughan. Thomas Scarborough gave me Mr. James’s number. I’d like to see if he has some time available to speak with me about a legal question involving a piece of art.”
“Please hold a moment.” The woman was back shortly and said, “Mr. Vaughan? Mr. James has a client with him right now but he says Mr. Scarborough let him know you would be calling. He can meet with you at eleven today if that’s convenient.”
“Oh, that’s great. Yes, I can be there.”
“Fine, I’ll schedule you in.” The woman gave Randy the address for the law firm.
Danny handed him a cup of coffee when he came downstairs, but immediately slipped out of the room as he apparently was trying to avoid Randy. Whatever he had heard or seen between Randy and Jack clearly bothered him, and Randy didn’t know what to do about it. Should he just wait for Danny to talk to him? Bring it up himself? It wasn’t like Jack was going to be in the picture for much longer, so maybe avoidance was in everyone’s best interest.
Bingo, Randy decided. Unless Danny brought it up, he was just going to ignore the Jack/jealousy thing.
Danny buzzed through with some laundry, his head still turned away, and Randy decided they at least needed to address the living situation. “Danny, you got a minute?” Danny stopped loading the whites and came back into the kitchen. His head hung down slightly, and his shoulders were stooped.
“Sure. What do you need?”
Randy waited until Danny looked up at him. “I talked to Joe last night and let him know that you wouldn’t be going to the shelter in Baltimore.” Danny’s eyes brightened, and he stood a little straighter. God, even after our conversation he thought I was going to send him away. “I meant what I said. You can stay here as long as you want, but if it’s going to be long term, I’d just like to know there’s a plan to get you set and on your feet.”
Danny poked his tongue into his cheek, then asked, “What do you mean?”
“Look, let’s sit down and talk a little.” Danny moved slowly through the kitchen until he was leaning against the center island. Randy poured himself a second cup of coffee, and put one in front of Danny as well. Almost blindly, Danny picked up the cup in two hands and sipped at it, but he said nothing. Fine. Randy would be the one to push this.
“Well, college, for example. Do you have a high school diploma?”
Danny shook his head. “I never went back when my senior year started. I was trying so hard to make some money.”
“Okay. So we could start there. I think you should consider taking some courses to get your high school equivalency. There are good community schools here in Virginia and I bet one of them has a program to get you ready. With your GED you can think about college.” He sipped his coffee and evaluated the deer-in-the-headlights expression dawning in Danny’s face. “We can figure all that out together. If you want.”
Danny blinked at him slowly, seeming stunned. “You think I should go back to school? Go to college?”
Randy crooked his head. “I do. Is that a problem for you?”
Danny shook his head carefully but his eyes remained wide. “No. It’s just, I never really thought about it. There was no money even when my mom was alive, so I always figured college was for other people.” He looked away. “For better people.”
“Hey,” Randy growled and waited until Danny looked at him. “You are ‘better people.’ You’re bright and a hard worker. Responsible. You like to read. You’re a good cook, and you seem interested in art. How were your grades in high school so far?”
“Nothing special. I had a solid ‘B’ GPA, I guess.”
“Don’t sneer at that. It means you’re above average. Is there anything you know you’d like to do with your life? Any career you’ve thought about?”
Danny’s eyes went even wider than Randy would have thought possible. “A career? Randy, I have no idea. How would I even…? Where would I start?” He began to breathe hard, then repeated weakly, “A career?”
“Hey, kid. Relax. It isn’t something you have to figure out right away. I didn’t bring it up to put pressure on you. I just want you to start thinking about it.” Randy poured more coffee as he waited for Danny to calm. “Look, do me a favor. Run a few internet searches about local training courses for the GED. I’ll pay for them, and that’s it for now. The rest will take care of itself at the right time. If you’re up for it, you can maybe do some searches on things you like to do and see if that sparks any ideas for later.”
“That…that makes sense.” Danny was breathing easier by then as the panicked look faded, but then he flushed again. “You know, in my high school, I never bothered to go to the guidance counselor. There didn’t seem to be any point.”
“There is a point. You’re capable, and you can do great things if you believe in yourself.”
Danny set down his cup and walked over to Randy. He put his arms around him and pressed his face to Randy’s chest. Randy tensed, but there was nothing sexual in Danny’s grip, so he breathed out and put his arms around Danny as well. They stood there for a minute and Randy tried to ignore the small shudders and sniffles he heard. He rubbed a hand awkwardly on the boy’s sweatshirt and said quietly, “You got this, Danny. You can do this.”
Finally Danny broke away, but he wouldn’t look at Randy. “Thanks. I’ll start trying to come up with some ideas, and then maybe we can talk about it.” There was a sadness in his tone that Randy didn’t understand. Maybe it was the years of thinking he wasn’t good enough to even imagine college? Maybe it was a reminder his own parents couldn’t help him figure life out? Whatever the case, Danny practically ran upstairs.
Well, that could have gone better, but it’s a start.
• • •
Just before eleven a.m., Randy pulled his truck into the parking garage at the address for David James’s law firm. The elevator brought him to the main floor and he pushed through glass doors to enter the marbled reception area of O’Sullivan Harris. A polished young woman in a tweed suit greeted him.
“Good morning,” Randy said. “I’m here to meet David James.”
“Of course,” the receptionist answered. “Please have a seat and I’ll let him know you’ve arrived.”
A few minutes later, the receptionist brought him to a conference room, where a man with chestnut hair and green eyes stood to greet him. The man was almost the same height as Randy, and wore a tailored suit that hinted at a body nearly as developed. Another man, younger, Asian, and with a completely shaved head, also stood.
“Thank you, Carole,” said the man with green eyes. “Randy, I’m David James. It’s nice to meet you.”
They shook hands as Randy said, “Thomas sends his greetings.”
David gestured. “This is my colleague Christian Fong. Thomas said you have some questions about fine art and that’s outside my area of expertise, but Christian here works with many galleries and auction houses.”
After Christian shook his hand too, all three sat down at the conference table. Randy said, “Thomas hired lawyers for us when we were getting my bar Mata Hari set up, but I don’t really know how this works. I mean, engaging a lawyer for a specific question like this.”
“Let’s just talk about it for a while,” David suggested. “Thomas has been able to help me with some of my pro bono work, so I’m happy to do something to help a friend of his. Also, I believe Thomas said you’re friends with Joe Mulholland? Well, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for Joe, and I’m sure he’d ask me to help you if I can.” Randy chuckled at th
at.
Christian added, “Why don’t we chat about your question in general terms, and then I’ll tell you if it’s something I’m able to help you with and give you an idea of the time it would take? If it’s more than a few hours of work, we can do an engagement letter and we’ll talk about hourly rates.”
“Okay.” Randy relaxed back in his conference chair. “Well, I can’t quite believe this myself, but a piece of artwork I bought a few years ago turns out to be potentially quite valuable. I’ve been approached by an art historian from the Kensington Museum of European Art in London. He wants to take the painting to England to run some tests on it to determine its authenticity. I, uh, don’t know this man personally. Or at least, not for long. When I mentioned all this to Thomas, he was concerned about the risks and asked me to make sure I got legal advice before releasing the painting.”
David leaned forward. “As I said, this isn’t my area but let me ask something. Is there a reason these tests can’t be performed at the Smithsonian or one of the other museums here in Washington?”
Randy scratched his head at that. “I don’t know a reason, but it isn’t something I discussed with Jack.” He reached for a pad of paper from the middle of the table, and Christian passed him a pen. Randy began to scribble some notes.
“Jack?” Christian asked.
“Jack Fraser is the historian who approached me. He initially sent me a request on his museum letterhead, and when I didn’t respond he came to DC to persuade me to let him examine the painting.”
David whistled. “This must be some painting.” He apparently sensed Randy’s reticence about disclosing too much, because he said earnestly, “You should understand, Randy. We haven’t signed an engagement letter, but even a consultation like this is protected by the attorney client privilege. Don’t say anything that makes you uncomfortable, but you can be assured it goes no further.”
Christian asked, “Other than the letterhead you received, do you have any proof that Mr. Fraser is who he claims to be?”
“I have his business card and the logo matches the Kensington website. After he approached me, I did some internet searches and found several scholarly articles that Jack wrote. The bio attached to the most recent three articles all mention he works for the Kensington. Also, Jack is listed as an assistant curator on the Kensington’s website.”
David chuckled. “That’s very thorough. Thomas mentioned you were formerly in law enforcement.”
Christian smiled too and added, “He also suggested you get legal counsel? All of that hits the right note of integrity and professionalism.”
“So, assuming for a minute that I do release the painting to his custody, how would that work?” Randy asked.
Christian leaned back in his chair. “Let’s consider this in terms of lending the artwork, rather than consigning it for sale. That’s the closest analogy to what we’re talking about here, I would say. Typically, if you were going to entrust a valuable work of art to a museum for inclusion in an exhibit, you would negotiate an agreement with the museum first. A contract. You want to address insurance, of course, in the event of damage or theft. The threat of a terrorist attack is particularly tricky with many insurers.
“Then of course you want to understand the museum’s security protocols to prevent damage or theft in the first place. It’s quite common to insist upon seeing detailed security plans. You’ll want to talk to your own insurance company for its input. If you agree to send the painting outside the United States, there’s a program called International Indemnity that might be very useful for additional protection.”
Randy scribbled notes as fast as Christian talked. He’d never remember this much detail later. Christian had grown intense while he spoke, and he continued. “Before you ever release the painting, the museum should send a conservator to review the condition of the work, to make sure it’s safe to package and transport, and to agree with you on the condition before it ever leaves your custody.” He smiled and gave a short chuckle. “I’ll pause there, because it looks like you’re overwhelmed.”
Overwhelmed didn’t cover it. Randy could only imagine how ignorant he must look. He’d given no thought to how complicated these issues could be, or what safeguards he should consider. David poured him some water, which Randy sipped gratefully.
He cleared his throat. “I’m kind of in over my head here, to be honest. I’m used to buying and shipping individual works of no great monetary worth. I have insurance, but the limits of coverage are far below what this piece could potentially be worth if it’s authenticated.”
David frowned. “Are you willing to give us a ballpark of what we’re talking about here, in terms of value?”
Randy took a deep breath and let it out. “It could be in the millions of dollars. Maybe as much as ten million.”
David’s eyes widened, and Christian leaned in gleefully. “This seems like an interesting project. Our law firm’s rates are high, but it wouldn’t be unusual to insist that the museum pay our legal fee as a condition of negotiations over an exhibit. Even if you ultimately fail to reach an agreement.”
That was a relief. Randy hadn’t been looking forward to the thought of going into his savings to hire a law firm of O’Sullivan Harris’s caliber but it had become clear to him in the last few minutes that he couldn’t possibly wing a transaction as important as this.
He recalled Danny’s consternation that morning when Randy suggested he think about a career, and how much trouble Danny had wrapping his head around the concept. He understood exactly how lost Danny felt, and he was grateful Thomas had pressed him to come seek advice instead of trying to handle it on his own.
The three men spent another hour discussing the issues Randy would need to consider and came up with some possible strategies. Then they drafted a list of specific requests that Randy could provide to Jack to pass along to his museum to test how serious it was about a deal. When they were done, Christian shook hands with Randy and excused himself to another meeting. David lingered.
As Randy relaxed in the expensive leather conference chair and contemplated the list before him, David interrupted his thoughts. “Randy, I don’t know you, so this question may be out of line. Is there a relationship between you and Mr. Fraser?”
The chair creaked as Randy leaned forward and contemplated David’s question. If he was friends with Thomas and Joe, they probably had at least certain tastes and interests in common. His eyes lingered on a gold band on David’s left hand before he decided to answer.
“Relationship overstates it, but there is something there.” He met David’s eyes. “I’d maybe like there to be more, but it isn’t possible. You’re right to raise the issue, though. As Christian was talking, I was imagining Jack’s response to each demand. Was it too aggressive? Would he be disappointed I ask so much?” He ran a hand over his smooth scalp. “I don’t know that I can be objective enough to negotiate something like this.”
David looked sympathetic. “Believe me, I understand wanting someone you don’t think you should have. It can make you do crazy things. Sometimes that’s good if it shakes up your life. Sometimes it’s tough if you can’t reconcile your wants and your needs.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.” David glanced down at the ring on his finger. “I came very close, twice, to losing the man I love. My husband Brandon is quite a bit younger than me.” He flicked a sheepish look at Randy. “Twenty-two years actually. It took me a long time to understand how much Brandon loved me, and that I was being an idiot to let something like age threaten that.” He blushed. “We just got married in September. I wouldn’t have that if I’d let my pride stand in our way.”
Randy had to frown. “You think pride is my issue?”
David shook his head. “I can’t tell you that. We just met, but I know something about who you are. I remember the news stories, when you helped save the life of Thomas’s partner. The kind of decisive action I read about doesn’t jibe with the hesitancy I hear when you
talk about Jack.”
Randy thought about David’s words. “I get that. I’m not sure how to handle the thing between us. I mean Jack and me. Or even if I should.” He studied the conference table and ran a thumb over the grain as he admitted, “I don’t like that feeling.”
“Look, here’s what I’d suggest. Hire us, get Jack’s museum to pay the legal fees, then let Christian do his job and negotiate the best deal for you that he can, whether that’s with Jack or with a lawyer for the museum. Keep your personal relationship out of it. That will give you the time you need to figure out what you want from Jack, and the confidence that whatever deal you end up with isn’t colored by your attraction.”
“That’s smart. Let’s do that.”
David stood. “Excellent. You should have the initial conversation with Jack to get the ball rolling, and then we’ll take over. I’ll wait to hear from you.” Randy rose and they shook hands. “You know, Joe’s been trying to get Brandon and me to come down to Mata Hari. Maybe we’ll make it in one night soon.”
They said their goodbyes, and Randy checked his watch as he left the law firm, deciding he didn’t have enough time to get home for a workout and still make it back to Mata Hari to prepare for opening. He slid behind the wheel of his truck in the parking garage and tapped the leather cover on the steering wheel as he thought. Well, warred with himself.
It’s lunch. No mixed signals at all. Just a chance to talk to him about the entrustment issues.
And whether Monday night meant anything more than a hook-up.
And why he wants a wealthy fiancée from the family that owns one of the largest auction houses in the world when he could have a slightly-used up bartender with a kink for leather.
Randy snorted at his own bullshit but pulled out his phone to dial Jack’s hotel. When the receptionist put him through to the room, no one picked up. Well fuck. All that nonsense for nothing. He debated leaving a message, but hung up at the beep. He had Jack’s cell on a card somewhere but it was a UK number and he couldn’t remember how to make an international call on his phone.
Lying Eyes Page 17