Free Forever, Jack by Natasha Boyd

like to be able to know whether to even call you. Uh huh … yes, yes, of course.” She pauses. A long time.
    I glance over to the curator, Mira, to see her pursing her lips and drumming her pencil. Then her eyes widen fractionally, and she gets a bemused look on her face. She scratches out something with her pencil on the paper next to the phone. My heart thuds heavily. Did Keri Ann give a price?
    Mira turns and winks, then nods at me.
    Dammit , I want to hurt something. Disappointment that Keri Ann will sell it makes my stomach curdle, perhaps something to do with my slight hangover, too. I’m also relieved I can own it so no one else can.
    She still hasn’t hung up. “Wait so, yes, I should just add the gallery commission and tax on there, add it to that amount, and that will be the specific price? Like specifically that?” Mira’s brow cinches up, seemingly confused by the conversation she’s having. “Okay, hang on.” She fumbles around, grabs a calculator, and punches in numbers. “Okay. Yes, I understand. Specifically. Yes, I promise.”
    I feel worse as the reality of the situation sets in.
    This is bad. It was one thing driving here, nervous as shit about seeing Keri Ann again and not knowing her reaction. But now that it’s being laid out to me that she will excise me fully from her life for a high enough price, I am gutted. I blow a harsh breath out and glance around for a place to sit. My legs feel weak. I listen to them wrap up their conversation, and then Mira approaches.
    “So good news and bad news—although slightly odd.”
    I look bleakly up at her. If she notices that I suddenly appear like I might vomit, she doesn’t say anything. Definitely a hangover. That’s all. I really need to stop drinking so much. I tell myself that every day. But honestly, I want to get this done and go drown myself again as quickly as possible.
    “She will sell.” Mira cocks her head. “But only for a specific amount. And when I say specific, I mean … specific. Then eight percent South Carolina sales tax and twenty percent gallery commission will be added on top of that price, rather than from it. Her idea, not mine.”
    “Okaaaay. So what is the artist asking for?”
    She shifts slightly. “I can only confirm or deny the amount. And when I say specific, I really mean down to the penny. No more. No less.” She hunches her shoulders up and shakes her head in bewilderment that mirrors my own. “So unless you’re a mind reader, we’re both shit outta luck.”
    Her phrase startles me. She doesn’t seem like a curser, but then again, she is having a bizarre day. I am absolutely confounded. And relieved. Thank God. At least no one else will be buying it either. She’s not selling it, not really. But why the cryptic pricing? Why not just say no? It’s weird as hell. “And I don’t suppose you would betray her confidence by telling me anyway?” I ask.
    “No, I’m sorry. She has some other pieces—”
    I shake my head. I’d glanced around at her other stuff. They were beautiful, and I’d buy them all if I wouldn’t be casting Keri Ann in a strange light by doing so.
    “No, I didn’t think so.”
    She walks over to her desk and grabs two business cards. “Here, write who I can contact if anything changes, and here’s my card in case you need anything else or …” She cocks an eyebrow. “Suddenly, magically, you know the secret number.” She snorts with disbelief.
    I concur. I can tell she’s disappointed, but I’m quite impressed she’ll keep it to herself. Although it must be such a bizarre amount that it would only be traced back to Mira herself.
    I take the cards and her offered pen and scrawl Katie’s number on the back. “That’s my assistant in California, she always knows how to get me. And seriously, call me if anything changes,” I say, shaking my head. “Please don’t tell the artist who was asking.”
    I take one last look at the extraordinary piece of artwork before heading