Page 81 of Rival Season
Ally holds onto her boyfriend’s arm. “Yeah, I want to see everything!” She steps in front of the first display—an abstract-looking photograph—as she tugs Noah along with her. “See, this one is gorgeous. It’s a…” her voice trails off.
“It’s testicles,” Noah completes her sentence in a dry tone. He glances at the information card beside it. “Pig testicles, to be precise. Hairy ones.”
Ally cringes and moves back. “Ew.”
I squint, studying the photograph. The camera is zoomed in so close it’s hard to make them out at first, but those are definitely animal testicles.
Penn snickers. “Fishy, you should buy this one for your art collection.”
Fisher scoffs, keeping his voice politely low. “If I want to see testicles, I can look down.”
Ally gags. “Gross! Let’s move on, please.”
Penn and I follow our friends along the left wall, but I don’t think either of us are really registering the art. We’re lost in each other, stealing glances, finding excuses to touch each other. When we come to the end of the building, there’s a painting of a couple embracing. Penn leans down and kisses me softly.
“Sheesh, what is with you two today?” Fisher asks, shaking his head. “Get a room.”
Penn sighs. “We would…if someone hadn’t dragged us to an art show.”
Fisher ignores him and keeps walking. We’re halfway through the gallery, so the Santi painting must be coming up soon.
When Fisher gasps and rushes toward a canvas, I know that’s the one.
“Wow, I think this is Santi’s best work yet,” he says, clearly in awe.
I take a few steps to get a closer look, and have to admit, the abstract painting is absolutely gorgeous.
“Is that the Palace of Fine Arts?” Penn asks me.
“It is,” I reply, still gazing at the unique depiction of the stunning San Francisco landmark.
Penn bends to speak softly in my ear. “I bet you know a ton of random facts about it…”
“I do, actually.” I smile. “Wanna hear them?”
“Talk nerdy to me, Bubbles,” he whispers in a mock-seductive voice that makes me giggle.
“Okay, well, The San Francisco Palace of the Arts was built for the Panama-Pacific International Exposition. The highest point of the Palace is a staggering one hundred and sixty-two feet tall. The columns and towers almost look pink during sunrise, so you can see in this painting the artist captured the morning light perfectly. Santi must have painted this in the spring because the pond in front of the Palace has swans, and the pink flowering trees enhance the pinkish color of the plaster.”
“Your brain is so hot,” Penn says with a look of genuine awe.
I blush. “I took an Art History elective during my undergrad.”
“Of course you did,” Penn says with a proud grin.
“Do you like the painting?” I ask him, focusing my full attention back on the canvas. Even to my untrained eye, I can see why Fisher is so crazy about this artist. Their blending of reality with a touch of surrealism gives the painting an almost ethereal quality that makes you want to keep staring at it.
Penn tilts his head as he stares at it. “It’s very…pink.”
Fisher looks over his shoulder and glares at Penn until the curator strides toward the painting.
“I see you found the Santi,” she says with a beaming smile. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”
Fisher nods.
“The Palace of Fine Arts is one of her favorite spots in the city,” the curator says. “She said she’s been trying to capture its beauty for years, and finally got it right in this painting,Waking Dreams.”
“Her?” Fisher asks.
