Chapter 17: Galleria

“Ah, the Big Apple.” Warren looked around the crowded streets of New York City with a big grin on his face. “What is it they say about making here?”

“Focus, Warren.” Brooklyn said as she looked at the buildings around her, trying to match them with the one in her head. “We're not trying to 'make it' here.”

“I'm so sorry I can't accompany you.” Victor had apologized that morning as he handed Brooklyn a picture of Eisenhower's gallery in the hotel. “I'm sure you can handle this by yourself. Just call me if Pablo gives you any trouble.”

To Brooklyn's relief, the rest of Mrs. Cohen's inspection had gone incredibly smooth. Probably because Mrs. Cohen took to ignoring Brooklyn after the attempted slap. Brooklyn didn't try to gain access again to the fourth floor, but she didn't need to be up there anymore. Mrs. Cohen spent a great deal of her time away from her office. The only time the two women had crossed paths, Brooklyn had been asking Mrs. Johnson at the reception desk a few follow up questions, when Mrs. Cohen came out of her elevator.

“Where's your attack dog, Meyers?” Mrs. Cohen had asked, laughing when Brooklyn looked confused. It had taken her a half an hour to figure out she had been referring to Warren who had been out getting lunch at the time.

Brooklyn had almost been mad at the implication then realized that Mrs. Cohen was scared of Warren. The carefully restrained violence he had shown her had actually intimidated the older woman. She was surprised that, instead of worrying her, the knowledge had actually made her proud.

“Do you not like New York, Brook?” Warren asked, slipping the dark sunglasses he had splurged on for Christmas over his face. They made him look tough and intimidating, he thought. Like a true bodyguard; he loved playing the role.

“It's a very...lively city.” she said carefully. Truthfully, she wasn't one for big cities. She enjoyed being able to look up and see the sky, not skyscrapers. And there were so many people! So many faces passed by her. Faces she would never see again, people she would never meet, yet none she would ever be able to forget. It was all a little too much, it made her long for her cottage. “Do you like it here?”

“It's a great place to visit,” Warren slipped his arm around Brooklyn's shoulders, “but I wouldn't want to raise our child here. You have to admit, though, this place sure makes you feel alive.”

“It's too loud.” Brooklyn grumbled a bit making Warren throw his head back and laugh. “What?”

“You're such a librarian.” he shook his head, grinning down at her. “It's surprisingly adorable. How do you feel about wearing a garter belt, stockings, your glasses and nothing else tonight?”

“Warren.” Brooklyn flushed.

“That wasn't a 'no'.” he winked.

“Let's focus on the job at hand.” Brooklyn turned her face away as she finally caught sight of Eisenhower's gallery. “That's the place. Eisenhower is supposed to be waiting for us.”

“The Galleria?” Warren read the elegant handwriting above the door. He couldn't see in through the darkened windows but he imagined the place would be terribly arty and stuffy. “It's kind of...unimaginative.”

“He wanted to call it Pablo's Picassos.” Brooklyn frowned at the name as they paused outside, looking at the elegant title. “We're all lucky that Victor talked him out of that one.”

“Still, you would think that someone with artistic talent could come up with something a little more arty.” he shrugged after flinching at the first name.

“Eisenhower doesn't have any artistic talent.” Brooklyn told him. “He paints, he writes, he tries to direct short movies; they are dull and cliche. He doesn't have a creative bone in his body. He surrounds himself with those who do to make up for it.”

“And they're all mythics?” Warren asked, remembering the information that had been in the man's file.

Brooklyn nodded. “He doesn't have to do that because, technically, the gallery and his job as head have nothing to do with each other. It's just that being mythic exclusive makes him feel...'important' I guess is the word. He likes having what others don't and being so far up in MCRC means mythics choose him more often than not.”

“So he's the head of the mythic art world?” Warren deduced. “I would imagine that he loves that.”

Brooklyn didn't answer, instead she opened the door and led the way into The Galleria.

Warren's first impression was that, although Eisenhower seemed like a big idiot, he did at least run a nice gallery. The walls were white, the wood of the floor pale, and the lighting focused on the paintings and sculptures. Nothing was so near anything else as to make the place look crowded, nor were they so far apart that the room felt barren.

The art itself was actually quite nice even to his inexpert eye. The sculptures were in every medium he could imagine from the standard clay or stone to classic glass and granite to obscure metal and, what appeared to him, nothing but trash. Still, even in the pieces that looked like they had been scrapped together from a trip to the dump, he could still sense the love and dedication that went into each one.

The paintings ranged from big, vibrant, and colorful to small, understated, and powerful with every combination in between. He was actually quite surprised by how much a very simple painting of an old woman reading by candlelight caught his attention and imagination. There was no reason for it to, but he could just imagine what a life the woman had had. She was surrounded by books, the look on her face as she read the words one of eagerness and delight. There was a cup of tea beside her that he imagined would have gone cold in her desire to read just one more page. She was married, he could tell by the gold band on her finger. She probably had kids and they probably had kids. She must be well loved. The woman was old but there was a timeless elegance in her gently lined face and her eyes still shined with youth and life. He was drawn to it, it called to him. He hadn't even noticed that Brooklyn had continued walking without him.

“Lovely, isn't it?”

Eisenhower's voice startled Warren and pulled him out of the trace the painting had cast on him.

“It actually is.” Warren answered, turning his eyes back to the work of art. Even Eisenhower breaking the spell hadn't made the majesty of the painting lesson.

“The painter is talented, inexperienced but you can't argue with the results.” he continued. “You didn't seem much like an art man to me the last time we met, uh...”

“Warren.” he reminded him.

“Right, right.” Eisenhower nodded. “However, it's never too late to get into it. Let me get the gallery manager, I'm sure he won't mind selling it to you.”

“We're here on business.” Warren reminded him, turning on the painting. “Brook is...Brook?”

“Over here.” he heard her call from around the corner. “Eisenhower, how much is this sculpture?”

The men followed the sound of her voice and Warren caught her looking at a glass sculpture, about a foot in height, of a knight. It glittered in the sunlight and had been expertly placed to catch the light at just the right angle. Warren was impressed, he didn't realize Eisenhower was such a good gallery owner.

“I've no idea.” Eisenhower laughed, his round belly shaking from the force of it. “You would have to ask the manager. I'm sure he wouldn't mind selling it to you as well as the painting to uh...”

“Warren.” he reminded him again.

“Right, right.” he nodded again. Warren got the distinct impression that Eisenhower didn't really care much for other men and he was starting to think that the gallery manager was the one responsible for The Galleria's success.

“Where are your assistants, Eisenhower?” Brooklyn asked, straightening up, tearing her eyes from the knight.

“The girls?” Eisenhower smiled. “They're playing around upstairs. They are so cute. Decided to surprise me today by all dressing up in pig tails and mini skirts. What man wouldn't like that, eh?” he nudged Warren's ribs suggestively.

“I prefer librarians myself.” Warren winked at Brooklyn who blushed and glared at him but Eisenhower missed the exchange.

“They are supposed to be assisting you.” Brooklyn told him. “MCRC doesn't pay them so you can have...companions.”

“Now, dear, don't be angry.” Eisenhower gave her a strange expression that took Warren a minute to recognize as an attempt at a pout. “Trust me, those girls are very assisting.” he nudged Warren again.

Warren resisted the urge to roll his eyes and, instead, grinned back at Eisenhower. He had a feeling it would be better to have Eisenhower as a 'friend' then to be at each others throats like Brooklyn and the dreadful Mrs. Cohen.

“Mr. Eisenhower.”

The three of them turned to look at the new man who approached them sedately. He was thin, almost unhealthily so. His face was gaunt, his skin was pale, and his thinning hair was snow white. His dark suit made the rest of him look even more ghostly, the sight of him actually startled Brooklyn for a moment. He looked like he could have been a butler for the Addam's family.

“Kenny!” Eisenhower grinned at him. “Perfect timing. These two found some pieces they want to buy.”

“I would be most happy to assist them.” the man looked at Brooklyn. “I am Kenneth Holt. I am the manager of The Galleria.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Holt.” Brooklyn shook his head politely. His skin was dry, like wax paper. If he laid down and closed his eyes, he could have passed for a corpse. Still, somehow, Brooklyn wasn't scared by him. His eyes were kind even if the rest of him was creepy.

“Kenny handles all the boring parts of The Galleria.” Eisenhower told Warren in a terribly loud whisper. “I do all the fun stuff.”

Brooklyn caught a flash of annoyance in Kenneth's eyes and she knew she would get along well with him. “I imagine, then, that we'll be having a lot of interactions in the course of our inspection.”

“Me and all the employees will do our best to accommodate you.” Kenneth promised sincerely. “Now, were you truly interested in the knight? I can offer a good deal.”

XXXXXXXXXX

“You didn't need to buy that.” Brooklyn told Warren irritatedly as he leaned his new painting against the wall.

“You let Kenny talk you into the knight.” he reminded her, looking at the package that housed the glass sculpture. Kenneth had been quite a salesmen. It was the first thing Brooklyn had bought in a long time that was new.

“He doesn't like being called Kenny.” Brooklyn told him as she set her sculpture down onto the coffee table of their hotel. Instead of one large suite like the one they enjoyed in Washington, this time Victor had given them their own room across the hall from his. It was smaller, cozier, and they had more privacy. “He said that Eisenhower did it on purpose just to annoy him.”

Warren looked over at Brooklyn, confused. He couldn't miss the waspish tone in her voice or the way she was moving agitatedly around the room. “Is there something wrong?”

Brooklyn glared at him as she set down her purse and sat down to remove her shoes. “Like you don't know. What was with you today?”

“What?” Warren asked sitting beside her.

“You and Eisenhower.” she snapped accusingly. “Every five minutes you two were acting like frat bros and you spent so much time staring at his assistants with him I'm wondering how much work you were planning on getting done.”

“Are you jealous?” Warren asking with a pleased grin. “Because that would be awesome.”

“I am not jealous!” Brooklyn said setting her shoes down and standing up.

No sooner then she was on her feet then Warren was tugging her down onto his lap and holding her despite her halfhearted struggles. “My love, I promise the Tramp Trio has absolutely no appeal to me. Even with the mini-skirts and pigtails. I just though that being close to Eisenhower would be to our benefit. And did you really just say 'frat bros'? That was cute, say it again.”

“Don't patronize me.” Brooklyn glared as she gave up trying to escape his grasp. She didn't really want to anyway. If she was being honest with herself, she knew that Warren was making the right choice with Eisenhower. However, she was tired from the last few weeks and being so made her cranky and ornery and she in no way wanted to be honest with herself. She wanted to be mad at Warren for all those suggestive remarks he made for Eisenhower's benefit and for daring to look at Eisenhower's assistants. She knew that being ogled was one of the main reasons those women were there, but she didn't want Warren to partake in that.

“My eyes were on you as often as they could be.” Warren promised as he nuzzled her neck. “I did manage to get an invitation to Pablo's party as his personal guest. I have been assured of the abundance of both booze and babes. Neither of which shall I be enjoying. Both are poisonous to me.”

“Don't be cute either.” Brooklyn crossed her arms as she tried to lean away from his snuggling. “I'm trying to be mad at you. The least you can do is sit there and be a target.”

“Anything you desire, my love.” Warren promised as he sat back and worked his face into an expression of remorse and contrite.

Brooklyn tried hard to not smile but she knew she was failing. She finally sighed and leaned against him. “I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I'm just tired and it put me in a bad mood.”

“You were an absolute beast.” Warren told her as he stroked her hair. “I've never known fear before this moment. Consider me put in my place.”

“You're patronizing me again.” she said but the anger was already seeping out of her. She just didn't have it in her to remain angry at someone for a long period of time.

“Never, my love.” Warren kissed the top of her head. “We can go to bed early tonight. Maybe even sleep in tomorrow. Honestly, I doubt Pablo would notice.”

“He wouldn't.” Brooklyn shook her head. “Kenneth said that he doesn't usually get in before noon. And since when did you call him 'Pablo'?”

“He insisted.” Warren shrugged. “It's an easy way to get close to him. Being close to him is beneficial to us.”

“I don't think we need to worry about Eisenhower.” Brooklyn told him. “Kenneth is the real star of the show around here. He runs the entire gallery and, from the way his records looked, I think he runs the Humanities Division more than Eisenhower does.”

“Doesn't surprise me.” Warren said. “I don't think I saw Pablo do any work at all today. Mostly he just pawed at the Tramp Trio and admired the art or himself. I'm kind of wondering how he managed to become head of the Humanities Division at all. It's not like Mr. Ozera to have a nitwit like Pablo as high up as he is without being good at something. Mrs. Cohen's a bitch, but she's great at her job. Dr. Fonate is completely irresponsible and, I think, a little messed up in the head but he is a genius. I'm just not seeing what Pablo is bringing to the table.”

“Maybe he isn't.” Brooklyn sat back a little so she could look Warren in the eye. “Maybe he's got other people doing the work and is taking the credit. Maybe Victor doesn't know.”

“We'll have to tell him if he is.” Warren said. “But we can't just replace Pablo so quickly. We still need to investigate him and the Tramp Trio. Though, honestly, those girls would have to be Oscar worthy actresses and I don't think they have a single brain between them.”

Feeling slightly ashamed at feeling so pleased at the disgusted look Warren had on his face as he said it, Brooklyn stood up from his lap. “Let's go out somewhere.” the suggestion was sudden but sure. She wanted to go out. Just as quickly as her sour mood had descended on her, it was gone again.

“A date?” Warren asked with a grin. “I'm surprised. I thought I was on baby making duty until we were successful. Though I don't ever remember complaining.”

Brooklyn laughed and pulled on his hand until he stood up obligingly. “We're in New York, the City That Never Sleeps. Let's go out and do something in it. We could go dancing, see Time Square, I just want to go out.”

“Alright.” Warren agreed without hesitation. However, there was a funny gleam in his eye that she didn't recognize. “I hear the nightlife scene is great here. Lots of music, lots of people, everyone crowded around each other talking and being as loud as they can.”

Brooklyn gasped. “You did that on purpose!” The accusation, she knew, wasn't off the mark. As soon as he started listing those things, her desire to experience them waned dramatically. It was, she knew, the exact reason he had done so.

“Of course I did.” he pulled her close and placed his forehead against hers. “You wouldn't like any of that. Best to remind you now rather than actually take you there and have the reminder be shoved in your face.”

Brooklyn sighed heavily as her desire to leave the hotel and go dancing faded so quickly she wondered that she ever felt it at all. “I'm boring and predictable, aren't I?”

“Stable and simple.” Warren corrected. “I enjoy it. I've been around a woman who was all fire and flash and I did not enjoy that at all.” He thought back to those weeks he had spent with the energetic and completely unpredictable Ilia Redreak. That woman was never boring but he couldn't imagine why anyone would want to deal with her roller coaster emotions for the rest of their life. Since that was exactly what his friend Dallas planned on doing, he guessed it was just him.

“Stable and simple sounds just as bad as boring and predictable.” Brooklyn made a face that had Warren laughing and kissing her nose.

“I told you, I like that.” he assured her. “I love the smell of books, I love the color brown, I love seeing you put your hair in that bun because I love pulling it out even more. I love knowing your dependable, I love how beautifully elegant you are. I just love you. That's simple too. I don't even care that saying all that makes me sound sappy because I love seeing your eyes light up when I say it.”

“Oh, Warren.” Brooklyn practically melted in his arms at hearing the speech. He hadn't spoken it dramatically or with great emphasis, he had just stated each thing as a fact. That was what made it so powerful though, so believable. “I don't deserve you.”

Warren grinned, feeling proud and victorious. “There's no one I would rather have, Brook my love.”

Brooklyn smiled up at him. “Maybe we can just stay here and dance? There's no reason we can't have dinner at the hotel.”

Warren shook his head with a smile. “We've had far too many dates in a hotel. After all this is over, I want to take you somewhere nice and fancy that has nothing to do with proximity.”

“But you don't like fancy restaurants.” Brooklyn reminded him. “You hate dressing up.”

Warren swooped down and lifted Brooklyn suddenly up in his arms. “You know me well, my love. One fancy dinner every now and then won't kill me though.”

Warren walked Brooklyn across their room and laid her down gently onto the bed before covering her body with his own. She relished in the warmth and weight of him as she drew her hands up and down his strong back. All at once she was overcome with a desire so strong it nearly stole her breath away.