Perfections by Kirstyn McDermott

tabletop. ‘Listen to me, missy: we know how much his paintings are worth, as opposed to what Dante’s gonna give him. Your boss needs to be asking a lot more, or taking a smaller cut, one or the other.’
    Jacqueline turns back to Ryan. ‘If you want to discuss pricing, I’m sure that will be fine. You need to understand, though, that the market is rather tight at the moment. Dante is trying to position your work–’
    ‘That’s not what we’ve been told,’ Alice says. ‘There’s a place right here in Brisbane would kill to have Ryan’s stuff on their walls. And they’ll represent him properly, the way he deserves.’
    Jacqueline turns to the woman. ‘That might be problematic, Alice. We have . . . well, there are contracts in place.’
    ‘Contracts, yeah right. Our lawyer might have something to say about those contracts . I’m sure he can find us a loophole or two.’
    ‘You may be right,’ Jacqueline says. ‘But really, do you want to go down that road? Legal fees and courtrooms, dragging it out for possibly years. Dante won’t take that lying down, you know. He has lawyers of his own.’ Ryan is staring out over the road, his drink more than half gone. Jacqueline wonders when he stopped paying attention. ‘You don’t want to go through all that, do you? Ryan?’
    His gaze snaps back to her, slips down over her breasts, her legs, then back up to her face. He grins and his teeth are straight and white like an American movie star. For a moment he looks all of seventeen years old. ‘Are you doing anything tonight?’
    ‘Ryan, be serious,’ Alice says.
    Jacqueline resists an urge to throttle the woman. To throw her bodily down the stairs and watch her flail and sear on the concrete driveway below. With sister dearest out of the way, Jacqueline has few qualms about her ability to handle Ryan Jellicoe, thank you kindly. Casually, she reaches down to wipe a line of sweat from the back of her crossed leg. Her skirt hitches a little higher up her thigh as she straightens. She neglects to smooth it down again.
    ‘There’s this club in the valley,’ Ryan says. ‘Couple of mates doing a gig there tonight, thought you might want to come along. They’re good.’
    ‘I don’t know.’ Jacqueline curves her lips into a regretful smile. ‘I need to report back to Dante this afternoon. If there isn’t good news, he’ll most likely want me straight back on a plane to Melbourne.’
    ‘Good news, eh?’ Ryan scratches his chin. ‘And what do you reckon your boss’s idea of good news is, then?’
    ‘A reassurance that things are still on track. If I could tell him that I’ve seen your painting, the one that’s to be the focus of the show?’
    ‘It’s not ready to be seen.’
    The man’s jaw tightens and Jacqueline calmly backtracks. Assures him that she understands, absolutely she understands. Perhaps some of the other paintings then, just the ones he’s happy for her to view? Anything at all, as long as she has something to tell Dante. Surely, he can meet her halfway?
    Alice bangs her empty glass down on the table. ‘You won’t see squat till certain contracts get changed – take that back to Dante and see how he likes it.’ All the muscles in her face conspire to a self-satisfied sneer. ‘Time to go, my brother has work to be getting on with. You’ve wasted enough of his day.’
    But it’s Ryan who gets to his feet. ‘Alice, zip your fucking lip.’ He holds out his right hand to Jacqueline. She takes it. Allows him to pull her up and out of her chair in a single, fluid motion. Sweat shifts between their palms and for the first time she notices the tattoo on the inside of his wrist, an elongated blue sun that ripples above the flex of his tendons. Finally, belatedly, he releases his grip. ‘C’mon then, girl, let’s you and me go take a gander at some etchings.’
    His studio occupies the entire rear of the house, an area which must have originally been three separate rooms. Patches of