The Art of Divorce

"Why else did you think we've been doing all this?" she asked.

"I thought I was working as your chauffer to help pay you back for ruining the paintings," I said, "I thought that was why you had me driving your car."

"Raphe Jenkins, you are amazing," she said laughing.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"This is not my car", she said, "It is yours."

"My, car" I said, "I can't afford a car like this!"

"Your share of our first painting will more than pay for the car," she said, "If it does not, it will be my gift to you. Now try on the jacket."

"No ties Amanda, I'm not wearing a tie,"

Kathy

The night of the show felt ominous. I now knew what my old high school teacher meant when he spoke about the sword of Damocles hanging over one's head. My dress though bought at the last minute was perfect. It was a shade of green that complemented my blonde hair. My back was exposed all the way down to my waist so there was no chance of wearing a bra under the dress. The front was very low cut as well. It caressed the under sides of my breasts and lifted them while concealing very little.

Raphe used to say that I had an open drawer full of titties and I was showing them off, when I wore dresses like this one. I hoped that he'd be there tonight to see them. Even if he couldn't forgive me yet, I was going to play every card I had. If he saw me like this and wanted to fuck me, we'd do it right there on the side walk in front of everyone. I just wanted, no, needed my husband back. If he wanted me to, I'd quit my job, we could move back home and just start having all those kids he wanted. Whatever it took, from tonight onwards, my main focus would be him.

When I bought the dress I did notice something, perhaps it was the beginning of middle age, or my sedentary lifestyle, or just too much rich food, but I was bigger around the middle and had to have the dress let out. The seamstress also added an elastic band around the middle to help tuck my tummy. My ass had never been a great feature of mine, but now it was a bit lower than before, and less springy. It didn't matter I'd hit the gym tomorrow, Tonight I looked good.

Smith picked me up in a Limo. He had affected that bored rich guy look that I'd originally thought was so cool. You know how some people can be going to, or doing the most exciting things, and blow it off like they're not having a good time. They act like they're too cool for the room. Well tonight seeing it up close, I wonder what I ever saw in him. I mean how fucking stupid was I. He's 50, he's balding, I'm stronger than he is, and he's boring. He doesn't care a bit about me, and he uses me like a belonging. I gave up my young sexy husband, who used to worship the ground I walked on, for this. When he pulled the divider closed in the limo and reached for my breast, I pulled away from him, his time was over but he just didn't know it. He spent the rest of the trip sulking, and I could tell that he was on edge. Not getting any pre-show pussy was the least of his problems and he knew it too. We were both hoping for a miracle, but they weren't necessarily the same ones.

Our first problem occurred when we got to the venue and didn't have VIP passes that meant that even though we got there early, our limo couldn't pull in front of the building. There were TV crews and reporters there filming and taking photos of the actors, rock stars and art critics etc. who did have VIP passes. We ended up having to walk nearly 4 blocks, and then had to go in the side entrance. From where we waited to get in we could see the VIP entrance. I saw several people that I recognized from TV etc.

I even thought that I saw George Solomon the leader and lead singer or the Rising Rocks. They were my favorite band. He had some 6 foot tall 90 pound Swedish super model with him. I didn't get a chance to look because there was a distinct rumble and people started screaming. Then out of nowhere that midnight blue Mustang flashed into view. The top was down, and the Valet opened the doors and Amanda got out and took off the beautiful blue silk scarf she'd worn to protect her hair-do. Her hair was gelled back and had glitter in it. Every time the lights hit anywhere near her you could see reflections off of it. Her make-up was perfect, but not overly done. Deep blue eye shadow matched her dress, and that fucking car. Her dress was raw silk and beautiful. It molded to her every curve and accentuated what she had, and down played what she didn't. Her breasts though not large, where perfectly displayed, and even though I'm not gay, I wanted them. Her ass though totally covered was clearly present, every step she took only served to notify onlookers that it was there. The dress was a few inches longer than mid calf but a daring split up the back gave tantalizing views of her perfect legs. Except for a small window at breast level, the woman was totally covered from neck to just above the ankles but she still made me look like both a whore, and a nun at the same time. This was clearly her show and everyone could see it. I have never before been jealous of a woman, but tonight I was.

When I saw Amanda's date, presumably the mysterious new partner that no one knew about, warning bells went off in my head. I only saw him from the rear profile as he got out of the vehicle and lovingly took Amanda's hand, as if it was the most precious thing in the world. I recognized that in both the gesture, and the way he held it. She looked into his eyes with complete abandonment, no one else here mattered except the two of them.

I was surprised when George Solomon ran over to the 2 of them and patted the new partner on the back and then they began fake punching each other for the reporters. They were obviously having a good time here unlike some people, I thought looking at Smith. These people knew how to live.

Amanda's new partner was probably more than just her partner, and he hung around with rock stars and God knows who else. His hair was cut just right. And his suit, it had a very long jacket almost frock coat like. It was the same midnight blue raw silk as Amanda's dress.

As we finally got into the building, I couldn't stop thinking about Amanda's man. Shit, I thought to myself, why the hell, am I worrying about Amanda's man when I should be trying to find mine.

"Smith, I'm going to look around the back of the venue for a few minutes," I said

He just grunted, and nodded his head; he was looking around for something or someone as well.

I went behind the curtains and tried to get into the VIP room, and couldn't get in yet. Smith and I, as representatives of the agency would be in the VIP room for the special exhibit but were not allowed into the early viewing of the new works before the actual show. That was reserved for the beautiful people, and the very rich. Who cared, I was tired of rich people any way.

I tapped one of the guards on the shoulder and asked him if any of the contractor's staff would be on hand tonight in the event of an emergency.

He said "Nearly all of them were."

He also told me I could find them downstairs on the lower level playing cards and laughing at their boss.

I wondered why they'd be laughing at my husband, but they were probably a bunch of good old boys making fun of Raphe being nervous about the show. I had failed him again because I was so busy worrying about my own ass, that I hadn't considered that this was what he'd dreamed of. This was what he'd consider to be success; having his own contracting business and doing important things like tonight. And I hadn't been here to share any of it with him.

I went downstairs and got a few whistles and wolf calls at my dress. I smiled despite myself. It was always good to be appreciated. I wondered again what Raphe would think when he saw me. I looked around but didn't see him.

"Hey guys, is Raphe Jenkins around?" I asked.

"Not down here with the working stiffs tonight," one of them said.

"Yeah Raphe's doing his other gig," they all laughed.

As I walked away I could hear them talking about me.

"Damn Raphe's getting all the women tonight," said one of them.

"And all kinds," said another.

"That's my type though, I like 'em slutty," said a voice.

I kept walking.

"Yeah, she's OK, nice tits anyway, but her as is saggy, and her gut is soft," I heard someone say."2 more burgers and that bitch'll be a porker."

I made my way back to our section, and watched as people continued streaming in. Most were looking at Amanda's paintings. They were beautiful, and most of them were already sold even though the show in the other room hadn't begun. I made my way over to Smith.

"What's wrong," he snapped, "You couldn't find Barney Fife?"

I didn't say a word; I just stood there and stewed. Raphe was worth a thousand Smiths. I was just thinking about how glad I was that Raphe had knocked this ass, on his ass, when a voice over the intercom announced that the special show was about to begin.

All those present, with tickets to the VIP event lined up at the entrance to the inner room and showed their tickets and filed into the room. This room was set up differently. As opposed to many paintings like the other room had, there were only 7 paintings here. These painting were covered so we couldn't see them yet.

I almost stopped breathing when I saw George Solomon sitting in the first row that was roped off. Apparently even in the VIP room there were different sections. I wondered how much money it cost to be seated in that first row.

The Master of ceremonies began speaking.

"Often, the thing that separates a great artist, from one who is merely good," he then paused.

"Is the ability to imbue their works with emotion, and the ability to reach out and grab their viewers; these artists have the ability to make people react and experience personal feelings when they look at a painting or see a sculpture or hear a song," he said.

"Artists like this come along very rarely," he continued.

I could see hundreds of camera flashes going off and see video cameras angling for a better view. The doors had been left slightly open and people outside were peeking in. I know that this had been done on purpose because all of the four doors to the room were similarly semi-open. This would make the ones outside pay twice as much next time to be here, and the ones that were here now would have memories of this forever. Smith seemed to be staying as far away from me as his seat would allow, that was weird even for him. He was usually trying his best to let other men know that we were together.

"Tonight," continued the announcer,"We have the privilege of being here for the unveiling of the latest works, of one of these extremely talented artists, who is herself at a crossroads in her career.

"I give you, the one, the only Amanda Anderson."

As Amanda's tiny form appeared on the stage every eye in the place followed her. She stepped up to the podium holding some cards to read from. It was almost as if she was at an awards ceremony and had a lot of people to thank. She radiated confidence, her every gesture was photographed and would be discussed over water coolers around the world tomorrow. She smiled broadly, which set off another storm of flashbulbs then stepped out from behind the podium so they could again photograph her from all angles.

Screams of "Amanda," echoed throughout the hall as everyone there tried to get her attention.

"Tonight I offer you my latest and greatest," she said in heavily accented English.

I'd heard Amanda speak several times and knew that her accent was not normally that thick. She was obviously playing up the exotic French artist riff to the hilt.

"Tonight I will show you a total artistic experience that will give you raw emotion in several paintings. But before we begin the auction I must first bring up some of the people who have supported us and made it possible for us to be here this evening," she said.

"From the Benson Management Agency could we please have Brandon Benson, Smith Benson, and Kathleen Jenkins, come up on the stage?" she asked.

I couldn't believe Amanda had mentioned my name. I got up as if in a daze and headed towards the podium. Smith was smiling from ear to ear. He waved at a camera, and whispered to me "The bitch is giving us credit, this might turn out OK."

When we got to the stairs Smith walked straight up the steps and onto the stage while Brandon bowed and motioned for me to precede him.

When we got on the stage a few cameras flashed and I looked straight into the lens of a television camera. I hoped that Raphe, and maybe my family back home could see me now. There were also I noticed lots of giant screen TV's all over the room to show the goings on, on the stage. I noticed that there were a few more people on the stage than Amanda had called, but I didn't worry about it. They seemed to all have large manila envelopes in their hands. Maybe there were going to be some kind of awards given out. I got into the spirit of the event and waved to no one in particular. Amanda began speaking again.

"When I arrived in California 2 months ago," Smith went white when he heard her say months ago. We thought she'd only been here for a week or 2. That was probably part of the reason she'd been upset at us.

"I was distraught," Amanda continued, "My career was at a standstill, and I didn't know what to do next. I had painted in France a lot of paintings that were sold earlier tonight, they are good and at the time I was proud of them but I knew that I needed to take the next step."

"But alas, I did not know what the next step was, until the man you are about to meet came into my life."

I was tingling all over at the thought of standing next to Amanda's mysterious partner. There I go again, I thought, creaming my panties over someone else's man when I should be looking for Raphe.

"The first thing he did was to give me a friend she said," the crowd gasped and oohed.

"Then he showed me the joy in simple things, and the magic of different tastes. He taught me to appreciate, uhm, what is it?" her accent was so thick I could barely understand her, boy was she rocking this.

"How do you say it...Burger Queen" she said.

My head snapped around and I turned towards Amanda. Some of the people around us noticed and Smith grabbed my hand. I was reeling, and I had a bad feeling that me and this bitch would soon be on the floor.

"May I present to you, my new partner, hopefully in more ways than one," she smiled into the cameras.

"Raphe Jenkins," she said.

My head exploded, Smith's mouth dropped open, and I almost collapsed all at the same time. Brandon elbowed Smith and pointed furtively at a short fat woman, in a rumpled suit, with wrinkled stockings at the edge of the other side of the stage. Smith visibly blanched, and I swear I could hear his heart beating.

My husband Raphe walked out onto the stage, smiling. He looked better than I'd ever seen any man look. His hair looked like a million dollars, his scruffy beard was gone and his handsome face was smooth. Those steel blue eyes lit up the room and they only seemed to see Amanda. Then I saw him give the thumbs up to George Solomon and settle in next to Amanda. He hadn't even given me a passing glance. I tried to start moving away from the podium but I was hemmed in on both sides.

"Raphe taught me how to add raw pain and emotion, in "my" or "our" art," she said.

As soon as Amanda said this, Raphe raised his hands. I noticed 2 things As soon as Raphe raised his hands the veils over the paintings slowly began to rise and the coverings on the floor receded. The 2nd thing was that as Raphe's hands came down Amanda took his hand in hers. Smith turned to look at me as I heard someone growling. Then I realized that it was me.

The crowd gasped as one. The tableau before us was both grotesque and amazing. It was powerful it was beautiful; it was a mess, all at the same time. There was a long, almost too long moment of silence; then the crowd rose up on its feet as one and began cheering. Amanda had little tears rolling down her face and the cameras were eating it up.

I couldn't believe this shit. This was art? What the fuck. There were paintings that weren't even finished, of me, and Smith and one of us together. There was one that looked like it was of a Burger Queen server. And there was one of that rumpled little woman who was standing at the other end of the stage. They were all splashed with big blotches of paint. Some were splashed with many colors, others with only a single color. I did not fucking understand this. But every time I looked at them, it grabbed my heart somehow.

"View if you will," began Amanda, "The spectacle of love gone wrong. Of a loving and faithful man whose whore of a wife, willingly spreads her legs for a worm of a man not fit to kiss his ass," Amanda spat viciously.

"View also the wife of the worm, see her pain, feel her sorrow, as her love is forsaken for the last God Damned time," Amanda was milking the crowds reaction.

"See the pain the simple act of betrayal gives them all," she said as if in pain herself. The woman was a master showman and she had the crowd in the palm of her hands. The only thing that I could think of was that the little bitch needed two ass whippings, one for stealing my husband, and the other for calling this shit art. I had to get of out there, and quickly.

There were oohs and ahs all over the room. Then people began to recognize us, and stared evilly at Smith and myself. Again, I tried to run from the room, but was stopped.

"Where are you going Kathleen?" asked Amanda from the podium.

"There is much here to do yet, and we have presents for both of you later."

As she said this I saw the giant security people come forward to stand behind Smith and myself to assure that we couldn't leave. Brandon was glaring at Smith, with fire in his eyes.

"Asshole," began Brandon, "You're fired," he said the last part so loudly that everyone heard him. The rumpled little woman, walked over to Smith, and slapped him so hard that it echoed across the room. She reached for me but was unable to get around the security giants.

The first painting of Smith started the auction. The opening Bid was 100 thousand dollars. The picture sold for almost twice that. The picture of the rumpled little woman, who I finally realized was Smith's wife, sold for a quarter of a million dollars. The other pictures including the 2 of me were also big sellers. The one that didn't increase over the opening bid was the Burger Queen boy, then Amanda offered dinner with herself and Raphe, along with a personal explanation of how the boy tied into the story, and suddenly the bidding went ridiculously high for it as well. Then Amanda waved her and Raphe's hands up again and the room went quiet," before we begin the evening's finale," said Amanda.

"We would like to present the piece de resistance." The lights came up and the last painting, one of Raphe standing alone and anguished, with only a few intense splashes of color marring it. The cameras went off immediately. Several Oh's and oh shits, were heard. This was obviously the masterpiece of the collection. Amanda had clearly exceeded her previous level of technique, on this painting. I swear I could see it breathe and feel the pain in its eyes. When I saw this painting I realized how much I had hurt him. I also realized that I had no chance of ever getting him back. Who could forgive someone they loved as much as he loved me, but treated him as badly as I had. I didn't deserve his forgiveness.

The bidding for the painting of Raphe started at a million dollars and went for nearly 1.3 million. At the conclusion of the bidding some of the audience members got up.

They were returned to their seats by Raphe's voice.