Page 291 of Double or Nothing

Not mine. My parents’.

A part of me that nobody knows exists in my world. I felt a weird affinity with that painting myself, listening to Bryce’s explanation of how it spoke to him, without showing a single card of my own experience.

I glance towards him.

We’re reaching Lot 47 in the catalogue, but he’s holding himself together. Still. Calm.

Our agreed limit is seven hundred thousand.

It began at six. Then six fifty.

Bryce said definitely not past seven. No way.

Seven hundred made sense at the kitchen island. Here, inside the room, with Mercer’s stillness and Alice’s sadness sitting thirty feet away, it feels like the opening act.

Lot 43 passes.

Lot 44 sells to an online bidder.

The auctioneer pauses for water before Lot 45.

People return to their seats. One of the telephone assistants replaces her headset. An adviser moves from the back wall to sit beside a client near the aisle.

The room knows Lot 47 is coming.

Not everyone.

Enough.

Alice senses it.

Her shoulders are tight. Christopher has her hand clamped in his, the diamond ring shining between them like it means something.

I keep staring until she looks back and I give her a smile.

Not the joker.

Not the playboy.

Just me.

Christopher follows her gaze and his hatred arrives instantly. Take that, sonofabitch.

He leans closer to Alice and says something in her ear. It gives me a jolt of hatred.

I’m going to enjoy taking this from him.

Lot 45 sells.

Lot 46 attracts little interest and passes below its reserve.

That stings the room. A failed sale always does. It reminds every artist, dealer and owner that value can disappear when nobody raises a hand. Scary stuff, but it only adds to the adrenaline.

Alice goes pale at that. I see it when she turns to her father.

He says something to her with a pat on her shoulder. Probably meaningless reassurance. Don’t worry, darling. At least you got one bid.

I look away from them when the screen changes.