Well, they should,” he shrugged. “It’s true.”
“ My mother is French.” She disappeared behind the menu once more.
“ Ahh. Parlez-vous Français? ”
“ Mais oui. ”
“ Bien sûr .” He smirked a little, enjoying the fact that he was getting under her skin. The confident Manhattan gallery owner and party hostess he encountered only hours before had already melted like an ice sculpture overnight. “Maybe you meant to say, he doesn’t say those things. To you.”
“ I don’t think I can eat anything.” She dropped the menu.
“ Sure you can.” Adrik knew she was avoiding the subject now, and smiled at the server, who came back over to their table. “We’ll have the waffles, please.”
“ Sausage, bacon?” the waiter queried. “Eggs?”
“ I don’t know.” Adrik cast a mischievous eye in Christie’s direction. “How long do you keep your chickens alive for?”
“ Just maple syrup and butter, thank you,” Christie intervened, trying to dig a YSL heel ineffectually into his steel-lined toecap under the table. He felt merely an irritated nudging against his foot.
“ We also have fresh blueberry syrup, or whipped cream?” the waiter added helpfully. He glanced at Adrik. “Although I’m afraid I cannot vouch for the life expectancy of the dairy herd, sir.”
“ That would be lovely…” Adrik found himself speaking in unison with Christie for a second time, and the waiter nodded and moved on, evidently keen to leave them to their weirdness.
“ So, any loose ends to tie up before we run away together?” he continued, rather enjoying her affronted glare across the table. “Any unfinished business? Or unfinished paintings lying around, to be precise?”
She shook her head.
“They’re all in the gallery. I hadn’t started any new ones. And yes, I cleaned up after myself too. Nobody’s going to pin those on me. In fact, I was wondering, while I originally planned on owning up, whether anyone would even believe me.”
“ My cousin Roksana told me you were quite the artist at your school,” he said. “Graffiti artist.”
“ I think the term they used was vandale ,” Christie replied. “And no – the staff never found out that was me, either. How is Roksana? They certainly suspected her. But to her credit, she couldn’t draw a curtain, let alone a picture. I liked her. She was fun.”
“ She is still having very much fun, by all accounts. My aunt and uncle despair of her. You know Zory Tamarkin has an adopted son? Paolo. He has been trying to tame her. I think they would make a good match, but he says it is like trying to catch the wind. I think it was you who made the impression on her at finishing school.”
“ Doubtful.” Christie took another slug of coffee, and gazed reminiscently out of the window. “I wasn’t in her – er – league. Not at all.”
The waiter braved their table again to offer free coffee refills, and as they were poured, Adrik studied Christie thoughtfully. She was most definitely a private person, but for no reason that could be defined as it was not open for scrutiny. Not even rumours circulated. Even people who knew her felt that they did not, in fact, know her. Which to him, was exactly how a criminal would operate in public view – whether they were a graffiti vandal… or a diamond thief.
It would be interesting to see what the glare of the celebrity spotlight would do to that impenetrable shell of hers. She had already come very close to courting it herself. But Adrik wondered if she would have gone through with the confession of being ‘Paparazzka’ had he not arrived on the scene for her to turn it around on so neatly.
“You found it hard to get his attention, I think,” he suggested, watching her twist a napkin around her fingers absently, in ways that reminded him of something else he wasn’t about to forget in a hurry. “To get him to notice you. Maybe that was your plan last night. But he was not there for you. Without
“ My mother is French.” She disappeared behind the menu once more.
“ Ahh. Parlez-vous Français? ”
“ Mais oui. ”
“ Bien sûr .” He smirked a little, enjoying the fact that he was getting under her skin. The confident Manhattan gallery owner and party hostess he encountered only hours before had already melted like an ice sculpture overnight. “Maybe you meant to say, he doesn’t say those things. To you.”
“ I don’t think I can eat anything.” She dropped the menu.
“ Sure you can.” Adrik knew she was avoiding the subject now, and smiled at the server, who came back over to their table. “We’ll have the waffles, please.”
“ Sausage, bacon?” the waiter queried. “Eggs?”
“ I don’t know.” Adrik cast a mischievous eye in Christie’s direction. “How long do you keep your chickens alive for?”
“ Just maple syrup and butter, thank you,” Christie intervened, trying to dig a YSL heel ineffectually into his steel-lined toecap under the table. He felt merely an irritated nudging against his foot.
“ We also have fresh blueberry syrup, or whipped cream?” the waiter added helpfully. He glanced at Adrik. “Although I’m afraid I cannot vouch for the life expectancy of the dairy herd, sir.”
“ That would be lovely…” Adrik found himself speaking in unison with Christie for a second time, and the waiter nodded and moved on, evidently keen to leave them to their weirdness.
“ So, any loose ends to tie up before we run away together?” he continued, rather enjoying her affronted glare across the table. “Any unfinished business? Or unfinished paintings lying around, to be precise?”
She shook her head.
“They’re all in the gallery. I hadn’t started any new ones. And yes, I cleaned up after myself too. Nobody’s going to pin those on me. In fact, I was wondering, while I originally planned on owning up, whether anyone would even believe me.”
“ My cousin Roksana told me you were quite the artist at your school,” he said. “Graffiti artist.”
“ I think the term they used was vandale ,” Christie replied. “And no – the staff never found out that was me, either. How is Roksana? They certainly suspected her. But to her credit, she couldn’t draw a curtain, let alone a picture. I liked her. She was fun.”
“ She is still having very much fun, by all accounts. My aunt and uncle despair of her. You know Zory Tamarkin has an adopted son? Paolo. He has been trying to tame her. I think they would make a good match, but he says it is like trying to catch the wind. I think it was you who made the impression on her at finishing school.”
“ Doubtful.” Christie took another slug of coffee, and gazed reminiscently out of the window. “I wasn’t in her – er – league. Not at all.”
The waiter braved their table again to offer free coffee refills, and as they were poured, Adrik studied Christie thoughtfully. She was most definitely a private person, but for no reason that could be defined as it was not open for scrutiny. Not even rumours circulated. Even people who knew her felt that they did not, in fact, know her. Which to him, was exactly how a criminal would operate in public view – whether they were a graffiti vandal… or a diamond thief.
It would be interesting to see what the glare of the celebrity spotlight would do to that impenetrable shell of hers. She had already come very close to courting it herself. But Adrik wondered if she would have gone through with the confession of being ‘Paparazzka’ had he not arrived on the scene for her to turn it around on so neatly.
“You found it hard to get his attention, I think,” he suggested, watching her twist a napkin around her fingers absently, in ways that reminded him of something else he wasn’t about to forget in a hurry. “To get him to notice you. Maybe that was your plan last night. But he was not there for you. Without
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