It was the first time Siggy had been in the DuChamp Gallery. He loved the space and seeing his work on the walls thrilled him. He had helped hang the pieces and ensured that all the titles were correct.

He noticed the high prices placed on his work and took satisfaction in the fact that he didn't really care if his work sold, as long as it was seen. The product of his last ten years surrounded him. It was both nostalgic and inspiring, perhaps those people it could help would see it now. Perhaps it would all be worth it, all the work, all the guilt, all the hope.

Elaine had given him several catalogs to take for himself after asking him to sign several hundred more for distribution at the show. She explained that if he became recognized as an important artist, those signed catalogs would be very valuable in the future. He found that thought amusing at first and then disturbing. He wanted it all to be about his art, not about him. He would need to disappear for awhile after his present series was complete, to allow himself to be forgotten as a person and to be present only in his work.

It was seven hours till the opening. Elaine instructed him to arrive about an hour late in order to keep guests from leaving so they could meet him while more poured in, insuring a crowded gallery. She seemed very smart to Siggy and very dedicated to making the show a success.

He knew it would be a hectic night. Not only would he be pestered by innumerable would-be customers of his work, but he had promised both Fisk and Howe some private time to discuss their possible commissions. Siggy knew he needed to remain strong and suffer the attention that he found so uncomfortable. He needed to stay in character just a bit longer, there was too much at stake to falter now.

Siggy and Adrianna arrived at the gallery by car service at 9PM. They were both slightly shocked by the bustle of activity both outside the gallery and in the space itself. After entering, Siggy grabbed two glasses of champagne off a waiter's tray and handed one to Adrianna. He took a deep breath and smiled nervously in her direction.

"Show time," he whispered in her ear.

"Go get 'em tiger," she said lightly and motioned him in the direction of Elaine, who was standing at the rear of the gallery, surrounded by a small group of well-dressed socialites.

Elaine was excited to see him and rather than spend anytime speaking, grabbed him by the arm and dragged him from group to group within the gallery, simply introducing him and stepping back. The seemingly endless groupings and cliques, dressed in a full range of outfits from tuxedos to turtlenecks, cocktail dresses to pantsuits, all seemed to ask him the same questions. They wanted to know his process, inspiration, political leanings, or background. Most often Siggy would grunt, snarl, or insult. It proved a successful strategy and the patrons of the gallery seemed delighted, not unlike a people taunting a lion in the zoo from behind the safety of thick iron bars.

After about an hour, Siggy had circulated through most of the guests and found himself able to enjoy the exhibit without the constant bantering of the previous sixty minutes. He took pleasure in seeing his work so well displayed within the impressive hall. He listened carefully, but surreptitiously, holding back disdainful laughter at the explanations of his art that the spectators offered each other. Occasionally, he found himself gratified by those few who truly seemed to understand his work.

He was about to get a fourth glass of champagne when a well built black man of medium height approached him. He was very well dressed, but in a suit that was just slightly too small for him.

"Mr. Jager?" The man asked.

"Yes, how can I help you?"

"My name is George Forrester, I work for Mr. Fisk. He'd like to speak with you. He told me you'd know what it was about."

"I do, where is he? Siggy asked.

"He has borrowed Ms. DuChamps office," George motioned to the rear of the gallery, "if you'd follow me please."

"Lead the way."

The two men zig-zagged through the crowd and down a hall to Elaine's office. Before entering, George stopped and addressed Siggy.

"I see from the catalog that you're from Siler City... me too."

"Really?" Siggy asked, genuinely surprised, "It's a small world."

"It is," George agreed, "I was wondering if I might take a little of your time after your meeting with Mr. Fisk to ask you a few questions about your art?"

"Of course, anything for a fellow Tar Heel."

"Thank you Mr. Jager. Now please follow me." George opened the door to the office and guided Siggy in.

Siggy expected to see Fisk seated behind Elaine's desk, but instead, he was seated on a long couch beneath a classic calligraphic black and white painting by Franz Kline. He had an annoyingly self satisfied smile on his face. Fisk motioned Siggy to join him. George remained standing by the door as Siggy sat at the far end of the couch.

"You seem to be having a remarkably successful opening Mr. Jager."

"I wouldn't know, I've been busy playing a dancing bear."

"All part of the game," Fisk replied, "I was hoping we could confirm that commission we were speaking about earlier."

"I've promised Mr. Howe that I'd speak to him," Siggy said firmly, "before I spoke to anyone else."

Fisk laughed, "I think you'll find that Charlie is no longer in the picture. He has decided that I should be your patron for this piece."

"How did you manage that?"

"I simply reminded him of of several rather large loans I hold to a number of his businesses and real estate holdings. Ultimately he realized it would be in his best interest to step aside," Fisk said proudly.

Siggy smiled, "You seem used to getting what you want."

"I always get what I want," Fisk corrected, "including the commission you agreed to. You weren't lying, were you?"

Siggy's eyes went dark. "I don't lie!" He snapped, "I never lie."

Both George at the door and Fisk jerked back in surprise at the ferocity of Siggy's response.

"Please don't take offense, Mr. Jager, in my world everybody lies, it's a tactic. I take it then that we have a deal?"

Siggy calmed, "We do, I'll do some preliminary sketches of your group and work out a theme. You mentioned a hippy party you wanted some input on. That would be a good time for me to do some drawings... in a less formal atmosphere."

"Excellent, the party will be August 15, the anniversary of Woodstock. Let me know your design ideas by the first. Nothing modern techno, old school psychedelic is the feel I want. I personally don't know much about it, hippies were always a joke to my family... earth bums, dad would call them, but it does seem like they'd be fun to play for a night."

"Old school psychedelic it is. I'm quite familiar with hippies."

"I always assumed you were," Fisk said with more than a little spite in his voice, "George, see Mr. Jager out."

Siggy turned to George after they left the office and smiled, "You know that your boss is an asshole, right?"

George laughed, "A world class asshole, but he pays well."

"I imagine he does. What is it you wanted to ask me about my art? Any of these pieces in particular?"

"None of these," George said, "it's about the one that Mr. Fisk bought at the Gala... the Devil one."

"What about it?"

"I was wondering who you used as a model for the Devil."

Siggy shook his head, "I don't like to reveal who I use as subjects."

George smiled and tilted his head to one side, "Come on man, from one North Carolinian to another, I promise I won't tell anyone."

Siggy was silent for a moment before breaking out in a grin, "Alright, but just because you're a nieghbor cast out here in the big city like me. The Devil is modeled on that serial killer back in Siler City. I don't know how long you've been up here, but his face was on the news every day. He was a dentist they say. Somebody who could do what he did struck me as the perfect model for evil."

"I can't say I disagree. I was a cop before I moved up here. It was sort of my last case," George explained, "I was wondering if you've seen him since, if you know where he might be?"

Siggy was about to answer when Fisk's voice called out behind George, "I don't pay you to socialize! Leave Mr. Jager alone and come here."

George gritted his teeth and whispered so only Siggy could hear, "Like I said, world class asshole." He turned and walked up to Fisk.

"See you soon Mr. Jager," Fisk said as he walked past Siggy with George at his side.

"You can count on it Mr. Fisk," Siggy replied.

It was nearly two AM before the gallery finally cleared out. Elaine sat in her office with Siggy, Adrianna, Wilson, Bertram, and Devon. A broad satisfied smile was firmly planted on her face.

She addressed the group, "What can I say but outstanding? We've sold a third of the pieces tonight, with additional promises for more purchases. Not just to the Fisk clan either, four major museum want pieces for their collections. Some out of town buyers too. After the museum purchases become known, I have no doubt the rest of the show will sell out. Congratulations Mr. Jager."

"Yes, congratulations," Adrianna said brightly, giving Siggy a gentle kiss on the lips.

Siggy looked around the room, "You've all been great. I should probably be more excited than I am, but quite frankly, I'm exhausted. I'm not used to being this social and it was very draining. If you don't mind, Adrianna and I would like to get back to the loft and crash for about a dozen hours."

Wilson helped Adrianna up, "Of course, you guys go flop into bed, you've earned it. I think the rest of us are going to hang out a little longer," he reached into his pocket, "here are my keys, leave the elevator unlocked, I'll be quiet when I get home."

Siggy stood and took Adrianna's arm, "I don't think that'll be necessary, I think right now I'll be able to sleep through a nuclear explosion. Good night everybody." The couple left the office.

After enough time had passed to ensure Siggy was out of the building, Elaine spoke again, "I should feel bad about losing the bet and having to give you two clowns half my commission, but honestly the prices were so high, I still made a ton of money."

Bertram raised a glass of champagne, "You are a classy broad, Elaine, all the more so for losing gracefully and especially for stuffing Devon and my bank accounts full of cash. I'd also like to congratulate this handsome young agent," he motioned to Wilson, "for the fine work he did. We couldn't have done it without you!"

There was a short round of applause. Smiling broadly, Wilson faced his friends.

"I just want to say... holy crap, I made a lot of money tonight! I never dreamed it would go so well. The credit though, has to go to Bertie who chose Siggy. I honestly don't think we could have been nearly as successful with any other artist. He did everything we asked without question, his art actually is amazing, and he's got to be one of the nicest straight guys I ever met," he raised his glass, "To Siegfried Jager, artist extraordinaire!"

They all drank the toast enthusiastically. It would be another hour before the night caught up with them and they stumbled home, exhausted, but content.