“Oh, just water.”

She looped her arm with mine and started to walk off with me. “Well, that won’t do. Are you a gin lady?” she asked.

Before I could reply, Richard spoke. “Oh, she loves gin. She’ll have whatever you’re having, I’m sure.”

As the four of us started walking to the bar, Catherine paused. “Oh my God, Warren! Warren, look!” She nodded in the direction of Graham, who was putting a sleeping Talon back into her car seat. “Is that G.M. Russell?”

Warren reached into his pocket and pulled out his glasses. “I think it is.”

“You know his work?” Richard asked, unamused.

“Know it? We’re in love with it. He’s one of the best authors out there—besides his father, of course. May he rest in peace,” Warren said.

“Oh, no. He’s much better than Kent was. He writes with so much pain, it’s hauntingly beautiful.”

“Yes.” Warren nodded. “I completely agree. In fact, my Shadows series was inspired by his novel Bitter.”

“That’s one of my favorites,” I glowed, remembering the novel that had a permanent spot on my bookcase. “And that twist!”

“Oh my gosh, honey, that twist!” Catherine agreed, her cheeks turning red. “Oh, I’d just love to meet him.”

I wasn’t certain if it was possible for my boyfriend to be full of any more crap in one night, but he for sure continued to amaze me with his out-of-this-world lies. “He’s actually a good friend of Lucy’s,” he said effortlessly. Graham was far from my friend, even though he was the only thing that felt right in the room that evening. “Lucy, do you think you can introduce him?”

“Um, sure, of course.” I smiled at the excited couple and led them over to speak with Graham. “Hey, Graham.”

He stood up and smoothed out his suit then placed his hands in front of him, fingers knotted. “Lucille.”

“Are you having a good time?” I asked.

He remained silent, awkwardly so. After a moment, I cleared my throat and gestured toward the couple. “This is Warren and Catherine. They are—”

“Two of your biggest fans,” Catherine exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing Graham’s hand, shaking it rapidly. Graham gave her a big smile, which was fake and forced, also known as his ‘author brand’ smile, I assumed.

“Thank you, Catherine. It’s always a pleasure to meet readers. I’ve been informed tonight that some have not heard of my work, but the fact that you both have is refreshing,” Graham replied.

“Haven’t heard of your work? Blasphemy! I can’t think of a soul who wouldn’t know of you,” Warren said. “You’re a living legend in a sense.”

“Sadly, good ol’ Richard seems to disagree,” Graham mocked.

“Really, Richard? You don’t know Graham’s work?” Catherine said, a tinge of disappointment in her voice.

Richard laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh no, of course I know his work. I was just teasing.”

“Your definition of teasing is a bit inaccurate,” Graham replied dryly.

Talon started to fuss a bit, and I bent down to pick her up, grinning at her sweet face as Graham and Richard waged their own odd war against one another.

The group could feel the tension building, and Warren broke out a large smile before glancing around the room. “So, Richard, your work is quite unique.”

Richard stood up, proud. “Yes. I like to think of it as an awakening to all of my deepest and darkest shadows. It’s been a process for me to dig so deep, and for a long time, I had a lot of emotional breakdowns about being so vulnerable and open with myself, let alone the idea of allowing others into my soul. It was a very hard time for me, that’s for sure, a lot of tears, but I made it.”

Graham huffed, and Richard shot him a stern look.

“I’m sorry, did I say something funny?”

“No, except for every single word that just came out of your mouth,” Graham replied.

“You seem to know it all, don’t you? Well, go ahead, tell me what you see when you look around,” Richard urged.

Don’t do it, Richard. Don’t awaken the beast.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know my thoughts,” Graham said, standing tall.

“No, come on, enlighten us, because I’m kind of sick of the attitude,” Richard replied. “Your pretentious tone is extremely unwarranted, and frankly, extremely disrespectful.”

“Disrespectful? Pretentious?” Graham asked, arching an eyebrow.

Oh no. I took note of the vein popping out of the side of Graham’s neck, and even though he kept his voice calm, he was growing more and more irritated as he spoke.

“We’re standing in a room full of paintings and sculptures of your penis, which, if I’m honest, seems to be nothing more than a little man trying hard to overcompensate for something he’s lacking in his life. Judging by his height and need to force people into a room to stare at his cartoonish, oversized genitals, he’s lacking quite a bit.”

Everyone’s mouths hung open, stunned by Graham’s words. My eyes stayed wide, my chest tight as I yanked on Graham’s arm. “Can I please have a word in the other room?” I asked, but it was much more a demand than a polite request.

“What was that about?!” I whisper-shouted, carrying Talon into the darkened exhibit where Graham headed.

“What are you talking about?”

“You. That whole act back there.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he replied.

“Come on, Graham! For once in your life can you not be condescending?”

“Me? Condescending? Are you joking? He made portraits, of himself, naked, and deemed it as artwork when truly it’s just some kind of hipster bullshit that doesn’t belong in this museum.”

“He’s talented.”

“Your idea of talent is jaded.”

“I know,” I replied harshly. “I do, after all, read your books.”

“Oh, good one, Lucille. You really told me,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Yet unlike your so-called boyfriend, I know my flaws when it comes to my craftsmanship. He believes he’s the best of the best.”

“What do you mean? What do you mean ‘so-called’ boyfriend?”