I heard Grieg welding next door, the sound of small explosions. His studio was the other side of the warehouse, which was split shortways. He made sculptures out of things he'd pull from the ground, mostly old car parts and screws. Marc said he had two sons in college and an ex- wife. I don't ask about it.
Family is touchy.
I wore something to show off my bellybutton. People kissed and made faces, showed pieces, drank purple wine and passed business cards. Networking was not for the weak. I found it hard to keep up, and Marc slipped into a circle of laughing people, eyes gleaming, and I was left smiling. Marc squinted, his face a satellite dish, and as I looked at him, his blond hair greased back, he looked successful.