Chapter 12

Kensington Galleries was located on W. Sahara Avenue near the Las Vegas Art Museum. Phil boasted of showing fifty contemporary artists, offering originals, mixed-medium, limited edition signed/numbered prints, as well as sculptures in bronze, marble and alabaster.

The gallery normally closed at 6:00 PM, but tonight the lights inside the gallery shined brightly and gave evidence to what looked like a celebration inside. When Darrin and Barbara drove up and stopped in front of the gallery, a parking valet whisked his car away.

"Thank you for being so gracious about being used for propaganda purposes, tonight," Darrin said while they waited outside for the rest of the group to arrive. "I want to add my apology to Carrie's. Believe it or not, I feel badly about what I did."

"Apology accepted, Darrin. It's none of my business, but were you and Carrie lovers when I did the photo shoot?"

"No. We were in love but not lovers at the time." He chuckled. "We were still resisting our baser instincts. Carrie tells me you plan to attend our wedding tomorrow evening."

"Yes. I'm curious. How did you convince your parents to accept your... ah, relationship with your sister?"

"We didn't. From what I can deduce, they would have tried to split us up if we had not been deeply in love, but because my parents are still in love with each other after all these years, they understood. As Dad said, he doesn't condone our behavior - in fact, he condemns it - but he and Mother love us, and they'd rather accept and try to understand than walk away in anger and disgust never to see us again. It was Dad who suggested we recite private wedding vows. He believes in the sanctity of marriage, not necessarily from a religious point of view, but more because he believes promises should be made and kept."

"Remarkable. Speak of the devil - or should I say saints? Your parents have arrived."

Evan Cannon's five-year-old Chevrolet stopped at the curb. A parking attendant opened the door, and Evan stepped from the car looking confused.

"Give him your keys, Dad. Take the ticket he gives you, give him a dollar tip, and he'll park your car for you."

Evan nodded.

"He's a sweet man," Darrin whispered to Barbara, "but not very worldly."

"I find him utterly charming, your mother, too. She's an earth mother, nurturing, but smart."

The next vehicle belonged to Westbrook - a Mercedes. He knew what to do. The artist, his agent, their parents, an art critic and a well-known photographer entered the gallery.

"There you are, you dear boy!" Phil exclaimed when he saw Darrin. "Good news! Very good news! All of your paintings have been sold!"

"What? The show hasn't even started yet."

"I always set up a pre-show for some of my collectors and some special guests. Didn't Carrie tell you? Anyway, one of my guests is the general manager of a new hotel and casino under construction on the strip. He purchased all of your paintings except one. A collector purchased that one before the hotelier arrived. I'm so excited! Carrie, there you are! Sweetie, we need to talk. Come with me." He grabbed Carrie by the arm and hustled her away.

"Where... ?"

"My office. We'll talk briefly. Then I want to introduce you to Mr. Sam Jeffery. What a night! And it's just begun."

"Congratulations, Darrin," Barbara said and squeezed his arm with hers as they watched Phil and Carrie disappear into the gallery owner's office.

"Did I hear what I thought I heard?" Harriet asked. "Did that little man say all your paintings have been sold already, Darrin?"

"That's what he said, Mom," Darrin stated with a wide smile. "That little man is Phil Kensington, the owner of this gallery and three others."

Harriet squealed and hugged her son. She kissed him and leaned back to wipe a smudge of lipstick from his lips with her thumb. "I'm so happy for you, Darrin, so very, very happy!"

Evan Cannon slapped his son's back and shook his hand. "Ah, hell," he said and hugged Darrin, too, which was awkward for Darrin for a second until the young man returned the hug as enthusiastically as his father was hugging him. "Congratulations, Son!"

"Thanks, Dad."

Barbara turned to Westbrook. "Sid, let's go take a gander at the paintings."

He nodded and Barbara took his arm. Looking back over her shoulder, she said, "See you tomorrow evening, everyone." She snagged a glass of white wine from a tray a waitress carried aloft, took in the soft sounds of a string quartet, sipped the wine and smiled. "Sid, ain't life grand? I'm going to need a ride home tonight. How about giving me a ride?"

"What about... ?"

"The date's over, Sid. We've done our job. Let's enjoy the rest of the evening, just you and me. Damn, you're good looking. I wish... ah, hell, I just wish. I do a lot of wishing lately."

Carrie remembered her first visit to Phil's office. She'd considered him a rude, little fucker. Now she wanted to kiss him.

"Okay, here's the deal," Phil said. "Jeffery is the general manager of a hotel/casino that is currently in the decorating phase of construction. He went wild over Darrin's paintings, absolutely wild! How many Vegas paintings does Darrin have finished right now?"

"Twelve, plus one that's all but finished," Carrie said.

"Would you sell them for $12,000 apiece?"

"Certainly!"

"I get my cut, of course."

"Thirty-five percent."

"Forty."

"Uh-uh. Thirty-five. You'll have no expenses except frames, Phil. Be fair."

He grinned. "Okay, okay. It's a deal. What a night! Jeffery wants to meet Darrin, and he'll want to see the paintings, but he said he'd buy all the Vegas paintings up to a total of twenty that are currently finished. Grab Darrin and bring him in here. I'll find Jeffery, and we'll make the deal." He jumped up.

As Carrie looked for Darrin, she ran the numbers in her head. God, a $216,000 night! Our share is... $137,400, and my 25% equates to... $34,350. Darrin will make $103,050. In one night! No, not one night. It took my lover years to create all those paintings, and many more years to learn his art form before that. He deserves every penny I can get for him, and then some.

She spied him with their parents. All three looked happy but lost. She wanted to ran full speed to Darrin, throw her arms around him and kiss him, kiss him with all the love she had in her. She took some quick steps, then slowed, took a few deep breaths, and walked calmly to the group.

"I have good news and bad news," she said, taking Darrin's arm in hers, pressing her breast against him. "The bad news is we can no longer do a pre-Christmas one-man show. The bad news is a result of the good news. The good news is Phil sold all the Vegas-theme paintings, not only the ones in show but also the twelve in the stacks or hanging at home and the one you have almost finished on an easel."

Darrin's eyes widened. "For $10,000 each?"

Carrie shook her head. "Only the ones in the show. The rest of them are priced at $12,000 each. Plus I negotiated Phil down a little for the paintings in the studio. His cut is only 35% for those paintings. Come, Phil wants you to meet the buyer, a hotelier named Jeffery."

"Wait!" Evan exclaimed. "Did I just hear you correctly, Carrie? Did you just say Darrin sold nineteen of his paintings in one night for over $200,000?"

"$216,000 to be exact," Carrie said with a wide grin. "$216,000 is the total price, Dad. Darrin gets a net of about $100,000. My share as his manager and agent comes to about $34,000, and Phil gets the rest." Carrie grinned. "Not bad for a couple of bumpkins from Milltown, huh?"

"Jesus!" Evan said. "I'm proud of you, son. You, too, Carrie. Come on, Harriet, let's go look at the paintings. I want to brag a little. Tell some of the people in here my son painted some of the paintings."

"Okay, but don't get carried away, and for hell sakes don't bring up the money involved."

Darrin's eyes shined. His father finally appreciated his work! He had believed he'd go through life with his father putting him down for what he did. He did feel miffed money changed his father's attitude, not the quality of his work, but the young man would take his father's acceptance and praise any way he could get it.

Phil rushed up to them. "Come, you two," he said. "Mr. Jeffery is waiting in my office."

The show ended at ten o'clock, and the stragglers had all departed by ten-thirty. Phil asked Darrin and Carrie to stay so they could have a private celebration after the doors were locked.

"What a night!" Phil exclaimed for the millionth time. "Let's have a drink and a toast! What is your preference?"

"Brandy," Carrie said. "A toast this late should be made with brandy."

"Ah, a woman after my own heart," Phil quipped. "I have a bottle of Napoleon brandy for just such occasions. It's as least a hundred years old."

"The good stuff," Darrin remarked.

They settled in a seating area surrounded by Darrin's paintings, and Phil gingerly poured brandy into crystal snifters.

"We need a candle to warm the brandy," Carrie said.

"Right! I have some! Just a minute," Phil said, jumped up and returned in a few seconds with three small candles. Using a cigarette lighter, flames soon danced from the ends of the candles, and each of them warmed the liquor.

"To Darrin Cannon," Phil announced. "An artist of extraordinary talent! And to Carrie Cannon, a young lady providing the necessary other talents to make her artist client successful!"

They sipped brandy. The dark, warm liquid heated Carrie's blood, and Phil's words warmed her heart.

"To Phil Kensington," Darrin stated formally. "An astounding marketer of art and a friend."

"To the three of us," Carrie toasted. "We make a hell of a team."

"Here, here!"

"What a night!" Phil said yet again. "I broke records tonight, grossing slightly more than $300,000. Everything sold out! This is the best show I've ever had. I can't wait until I do a one-man show for you, Darrin."

"The one-man show tentatively scheduled pre-Christmas will need to be postponed, Phil," Carrie said. "We won't have enough paintings for a one-man show until early spring."

"I understand. By the way, the gallery owner from L.A., one of the galleries with which I have reciprocity, stopped by the show briefly tonight. He expressed a desire to sponsor a one-man show for your work, Darrin, but I get first dibs."

"Without doubt, Phil," Carrie agreed. "Wait until you see Darrin's new paintings tomorrow morning. Come early for our meeting with Jeffery. I think you'll be truly excited. They aren't finished yet, but Sid previewed them earlier tonight, and he said he loved them. He said he liked those you sold tonight, but loved the new ones." Carrie reached and squeezed her brother's hands. "I think Sid will give you rave reviews, Darrin." Darrin's eyes shined as he gazed at her. His eyes locked with hers, and they forgot they weren't alone.

"Ahem," Phil cleared his throat.

Carrie's mahogany tresses danced as she shook her head to clear the passion she felt for Darrin at the moment. "Sorry," she murmured.

I've never seen so much love between a brother and sister, Phil thought. They can't keep their eyes and hands off each other. The love between them warmed him as much as the brandy, but...

Incest had always been repugnant to him. His mother...

His mother had not sexually abused him, not overtly, but her constant, grasping touches and slobbery kisses had repelled him. Then her fatal automobile accident brought out so much guilt, years of therapy were required to alleviate the pain and confusion. The one other brush he had had with incest involved brothers, not a brother and sister, and he had considered that relationships abhorrent, but for some reason Carrie and Darrin affected him differently. For one thing, the brothers had not loved each other; they merely had sex with each other and any other interested male. No question about it, they were sluts. Not these two. They were in love, and Phil appreciated love. He'd been in love once, head-over-heels in love, but the so-called loved ones of his lover had destroyed everything, and his lover had committed suicide. Even more years of therapy were needed to calm his tortured soul after that event. Phil's personal struggle to accept or reject Carrie and Darrin's incestuous relationship was brief. Carrie had become his friend, and he appreciated Darrin's talent.

"The two of you are in love, aren't you?" Phil asked with a smile.

Carrie glanced at Darrin, who raised an eyebrow - a query filled with doubt, but Carrie had no doubt. While working with Phil to prepare for the show, she had come to know him. He'd accept them.

"Yes, very," Carrie said. "Are you shocked or repelled?"

"Curiously, no. I know your love warms me, makes me feel good. That it is incestuous doesn't seem to matter, which surprises me. No I'm not shocked or repelled. I'm happy for you, both of you."

"Tomorrow evening at seven o'clock, Darrin and I will exchange wedding vows in a very private ceremony. Only our parents and Barbara will be there. We'd be honored if you would stand witness to an illegal marriage, as Barbara put it earlier tonight. The ceremony will take place in the studio."

Phil had attended a similar ceremony between two of his gay friends. Why not do the same for a brother and sister so much in love they'd defy the wrath and condemnation of most of the world around them? As a gay man, he understood such defiance.

"I'd love to be there, and thank you so much for inviting me."

Carrie rolled over on top of Darrin. Rising up, she gazed down at him as she slid back taking him fully inside her again. "So nice. I love you inside me, bro. Can you believe all that happened today?"

"Not in a million years, and we have almost as big a day tomorrow. When the dust settles next week, let's take a short trip, somewhere where no one knows us. We'll travel as man and wife, a honeymoon of sorts."

"Yes! But it won't be a honeymoon of sorts. It will be a real honeymoon, our honeymoon. God, I love you, Darrin Cannon, soon to be my husband. My emotions are on overload; I'm so happy I want to explode. The parents have accepted us! Barbara and Phil, too! We're rich! Rich with love! Rich with more money than we'll know what to do with, so we'll probably do nothing, not for a while."

She picked up the rhythm of their lovemaking and leaned down to kiss him. Her breasts mashed against his chest, and she stopped moving to enjoy his mouth on hers.

"We won't be rich, Carrie, at least as far as money goes. We'll just make a very good living," he said when she pulled back from the embrace.

"I know, but compared to Milltown's standards we'll be rich."

He chuckled. "True. We'll certainly be rich enough to buy a house. I'd like to buy a house for you, Carrie, one with a decent kitchen, air conditioning, other..."