Page 94

Mildra didn’t like the country. Technically, this was the outskirts of the suburbs, the farthest reaches of urban sprawl, but there were too many trees. Too many bugs.

She traipsed up the driveway of the scrapyard, irritable as always. Nancy was standing on the porch in a tan linen tunic and Birkenstocks beside a heavily bearded man smoking a cigar.

“This had better be good,” she sniped at Nancy, who greeted her with a hug, unphased by Mildra’s sour mood.

“Nice to see you again,” the man grunted, puffing on his cigar. She fake-coughed and fanned the smoke away. He smirked at her.

“I want to show you what Dusty’s been working on all summer,” Nancy said in her sing-song voice. “Henry asked us to keep him informed on Dustin’s next project, after all…”

This was news to Mildra, but she didn’t let it show. Normally, Mr. Bard communicated with all his artists though her. It irked her that he’d been in touch with Dustin, or Nancy, or both, and she felt prickly and territorial as Jerry disappeared into the house.

Nancy smiled sweetly and put her hand on Mildra’s arm. “I’d never go around you, Milly,” she said, giving her a little squeeze. “Henry would be lost without you, we both know it. That’s why I called.”

Mildra made a harumph- ing noise but relaxed a little. Nancy really was the nicest person on the planet. It made her feel like sandpaper, rubbing up against everyone she’d ever met. Mildra couldn’t imagine being so soft.

“Well let’s get on with it, then,” she said grumpily.

“I need shoes,” Nancy sang, but Jerry reappeared holding some rolled-up socks and a pair of steel-toed work boots. “Oh, thank you Jerry!” she said, kissing him on the cheek. He blushed a little, but it was a sweet gesture, like a mother kissing a babe. As Nancy ignored the socks and pulled the boots onto her bare feet, her fine golden leg-hair shining in the sun, Mildra wondered – not for the first time – whether Nancy was gay. Many, many men had shown interest in her over the years, captivated by her genuine goodness and pliable body. But Nancy had never looked twice at anyone, not even Mr. Bard who – though he was at least two decades Nancy’s senior – was a striking man, often called a silver fox by her colleagues, whatever that meant.

Mildra followed Nancy and Jerry around the back of the house, down a dirt pathway that led to a large, two-story high corrugated metal shop.

“After you,” Jerry said, pushing open the door.

She stepped inside and felt like she’d just struck gold.

“Oh my Lord…” she breathed, taking it in.

It could have been its own exhibition, exactly as it was. Suspended from the ceiling were three dragons assembled entirely out of mixed metals. Dustin had clearly worked primarily with copper on one of them, either choosing oxidized pieces of scrap or oxidizing it on purpose, creating the illusion of shiny green scales all over its body. The second was all black, a much larger and strangely mechanical looking beast built of black iron, curling around the green dragon protectively, staring down at them like it was daring them to reach up and touch her. The third was made of brass, maybe metal golds, an outrageously stunning creature though it was strangely snake-like, long and narrow with a tail like a whip. Its mouth was open in a scream, and it looked like it was falling from the sky, a large hole in its chest. She squinted, looking more closely at the display, and saw that gripped in the black beast’s talons was a shining golden mass…

The golden dragon’s heart.

She pulled out her polaroid camera and began photographing it from multiple angles, her heart pounding. This was going to set the art world on fire…

“Mr. Bard will be… very pleased…” she breathed.

“Yes, about that,” Jerry said clearing his throat. “This piece isn’t part of a school project.”

Mildra stilled, narrowing her eyes at him. “What do you mean?” she asked, looking warily at Nancy whose hands were clasped with satisfaction as she stared up at the dragons.

Jerry cleared his throat. “I’ve, ah, set up a corporation for the kid. A trust, if you will.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, he’s twelve, see, so he can’t be makin’ no real money. But his corporation can.”

Mildra glared at Nancy, but she was still just staring dreamily up at the piece.

“So what exactly are you proposing?” Mildra asked, shifting her attention to Jerry.

Jerry cleared his throat again. “Well… it’s my understanding from Nancy here that ah… Mr. Bard is a collector. A buyer.”

“Indeed,” she said, her voice clipped.

“We’d like for him to make an offer,” Jerry said.

Mildra glared at him, but he stared her down casually like she were a housecat on a garden wall.

“We’ll see what we can do,” she said, her voice dripping with distaste. Jerry’s mouth twitched but he didn’t smile.

She already knew Mr. Bard would buy this. And she already knew it was going to be for a stupid amount of money.

Congratulations, kid, she thought. You just made your career.