Page 50 of Something Like Forever

Marcello’s smile wassubtle. “I take it then, that you convinced him toreenroll.”

“Busted,” Tim said, eyestrained on the golden liquid being expertly poured into each glass.“It really is hot. I know he’s the same guy, but I love droppinghim off and picking him up from school. He drives himself usually,but sometimes I insist, just to keep the fantasy going. I’m hopingwe can find somewhere on campus to uh…”

“I’ll make you a list ofsuitable places,” Marcello said, sliding a glass over to him. “Youknow, I enjoyed our friendship even before Ben came along, but Imust admit, I find your relationship with him as inspiring as it isendearing.”

“Thinking of settling downfinally?” Tim asked.

“Heavens no! Not while I’mstill so young.” Marcello raised a glass to clink it against hisbefore continuing. “I had rather a different idea in mind, althoughit’s not the one I called you here for. Perhaps now is not thetime. You have enough to consider without throwing a movie into themix.”

“A movie?” Tim said,nearly spitting out his beer. “About me and Ben?” He thought aboutit and laughed. “I get it. One of your pornos.”

Marcello pulled back. “I take offense atthat term!”

“Sorry,” Tim said. “One ofyour romantic movies that don’t shy away from sex because it’s… Howdo you always put it?”

“A revealing part of anyrelationship. Pun thoroughly intended.”

“Fair enough, but I’m notsure I like the idea of being naked on screen, even if it’s someactor representing me, and I know Benjamin wouldn’t likeit.”

Marcello noddedthoughtfully. “Perhaps, just this once, I could make an exception.The sex scenes could fade to black, so long as you don’t begrudgeme a little skin. A family-friendly rating could also mean a largeraudience. Just imagine what a service that would provide. Finally,a timeless gay love story to inspire generations!”

Tim snorted. “More like our personal life onparade for everyone to see. We’re private people. Not to mentionthat there are parts I’m not proud of. Things got pretty dark withRyan.”

“Oh we’d leave him out ofit,” Marcello said. “I wouldn’t want to give the little bratattention. He would like that too much.”

“You’re kidding. Aren’tyou?”

“Not at all! Talk it overwith your husband, see if he finds the idea as amusing as I do. Ifso, we can take it from there.”

“Enough about that,” Timsaid, still shaking his head. “We’ve been out of touch. Tell me howthe most recent trip to Japan went.”

“A mixture of good andbad. The selfie studio is a roaring success. They have to turnhundreds of people away each day. Already there is talk of openinga second location. I’ve made sure to patent the idea,naturally.”

“What about the new EricConroy Gallery?” Tim asked.

“Thereinlies the problem,” Marcello said. “Everything is goingwellexceptthe new gallery.”

Tim swallowed. “I reallywant this to happen. It would mean a lot to Eric.”

“Undoubtedly. I’m surethat, working together, we can overcome any obstacles.” Marcelloleaned forward. “Here’s to our partnership, both as friends andbusinessmen.”

Businessmen! Tim neverthought of himself that way, but he supposed it was true. Hedrummed up business, but for the artists he helped support ratherthan himself. He took a hearty swig, already knowing that he wouldneed a taxi to get home, because the beer tasted too good to stopat one. “So what’s up?”

Marcello’s sigh was one ofgentle frustration. “The person I placed in charge of establishingthe new gallery isn’t an artist, despite his claims to be. Heselected a space unsuitable for displaying art. The walls, Iunderstand, aren’t of a high enough quality to bear much weight.Windows are nonexistent, and proper lighting isn’t an option sincethe entire electrical system needs to be rewired. I also haveconcerns about the square footage, but none of this troubles me asmuch as his attitude. He wants to charge each artist a fee forsubmitting their work, with no guarantee that they’ll beaccepted.”

“Most artists don’t havemoney,” Tim said, already shaking his head.

“Precisely! The goal is tomake creative work sustainable to the artist, not bleed them drywith monthly fees.”

“Monthly?”

“Yes. If their work isaccepted, they would be subject to what he calls a listing fee. Inorder to cover the expenses of running the gallery.”

“That’s what the annualfundraiser is for!” Tim protested. “Jesus, this is starting tosound worse than a normal commercial gallery!”

“Indeed,” Marcello said.“I knew you would be of a like mind, and I remain eager to hearyour advice. I’ve tried reasoning with this person, but to noavail.”

“Fire him,” Tim saidinstantly. “Get someone else in there who knows what they’redoing.” Then he leaned back and groaned, because suddenly it wasall painfully obvious.