“How many is that?” Spiridon asked him.

“Nine, and more on the way,” Brandon smiled.

“Hey, Brandon” Nikolos said, “who’s selling more, me or dad?”

“Right now, Spiridon has you by two.”

Spiridon clapped Nikolos on the back, “I told you I’ve still got it.”

“Yeah,” Nikolos said to him, “but Brandon says I’m catching up. Brandon, go sell more of my paintings.”

Brandon grinned and shook his head, “They’re all selling.”

Nikolos chuckled, “Well, just make sure more of mine sell. Can’t let the old man show me up.”

Spiridon rolled his eyes. “Ahh, youth,” he grinned.

“So,” Brandon said to Spiridon, “tell me something. I’ve been trying to get you to sell these landscapes for years.” He motioned to the paintings on the walls. “But you said you wouldn’t because they meant too much to you. You even turned down Stanford Wentworth’s offer for the lot a few months ago. Why’d you change your mind now?”

Spiridon shrugged his shoulders. “You yourself told Christos he needed more paintings on the wall if he wanted a successful show. I wanted my grandson to have a successful show. It’s that simple. Seeing him succeed means more to me than keeping these old paintings.”

Nikolos nodded agreement. “The more the merrier, right?”

Brandon nodded. “I can’t thank you both enough for agreeing to do this. And thank you, Nikolos, for suggesting it. I’m so glad Christos agreed to it. And you, too, Spiridon.”

“It’s the least we could do,” Spiridon said, “for family.”

Nikolos nodded.

“Well, thank you,” Brandon said. “This is truly a historic event.”

“Yes it is,” Spiridon said reverently.

Everyone was in such a good mood, it was contagious.

Brandon smiled, “I need to get back to it. People are waiting for me because they want to buy more art,” He raised both eyebrows and smiled before withdrawing into the ocean of people in tuxes and black dresses.

I glanced at the placard on Spiridon’s painting. The price tag read, $475,000. Jesus Christ, the Manos family made money like crazy when it came to selling their art.

“Where did you paint this one, Spiridon?” I asked, motioning toward the landscape. It was a gorgeous painting of sun breaking through clouds over a huge mountain valley.

“Yosemite,” Spiridon said.

“You mean you went back after that deer tried to eat your watercolors?” I quipped.

“You remembered our story about the deer!” Nikolos chuckled.

“Of course I remembered!” I grinned at him. “I remember all your stories. I’m going to write them all down someday,” I winked. I looked around for a moment and sighed, overwhelmed by all the excitement and the amazing art. “Wow, you guys,” I smiled, “You have so many awesome paintings here tonight. I can’t believe it.”

Spiridon and Nikolos smiled back at me.

Spiridon shrugged, “It’s just art.”

“Just art,” I scoffed. Maybe they were bored with lavish gallery openings after decades. What did I know?

“Hey,” Spiridon said, “remember that show you had in New York? I think it was 1984?”

Nikolos chuckled, “I’ve tried to block out all of 1984.”

“You know the one. The one with the fire?”

Nikolos’ eyes widened. “Oh! That show.”

Spiridon nodded knowingly.

“What happened,” I asked, all ears.

Nikolos said, “I got the idea that if I set one of my paintings on fire in the gallery, it would create a real buzz in the art world.”

Spiridon grinned, obviously knowing where the story was going.

Nikolos continued, “Too bad the only buzz was when the fire department showed up and kicked everyone out of the gallery.”

Spiridon shook his head, smiling.

“Did anyone get hurt?” I asked.

“Just my sales,” Nikolos winked.

“So you won’t set anything on fire tonight?” I joked.

Nikolos looked at Spiridon, “Have I told you how much I like this girl?” He wrapped an arm around my neck and gave me a friendly hug.

“Nikolos was always about the marketing from the beginning,” Spiridon said. “He knew what he was doing, and he wanted to sell paintings. But setting that painting on fire wasn’t the only brilliant marketing idea he had, was it, son? Remember that time you covered yourself in paint and rolled around on a canvas in the middle of the gallery opening?”

My eyes widened, “You did that?”

“Yup,” Nikolos nodded. “Nude.”

“While people watched?” I asked in complete disbelief.

“For a packed house,” he said.

“How’d it go over?”

“People loved it.” Nikolos made a funny face. “I was so ‘experimental’,” he made finger quotes, “I was pushing the envelope.”

“The only thing he hadn’t factored in,” Spiridon said conspiratorially, “was how hard it was to get the paint off afterward.”

Nikolos squeezed his eyes shut and cackled as he said, “Who knew peeling acrylic paint of your privates would hurt so much!”

“What!” I gasped, covering my mouth.

Nikolos nodded, “But the worst part was getting it out of my hair. I ended up shaving my head and my jewels.”

My mouth Oed.

“I warned you,” Spiridon said affectionately.

Spiridon and Nikolos laughed and shook their heads at the shared memory.

These two were full of endless stories about art adventures.

“So, did you sell your pubic painting to public?” I asked satirically.

Spiridon chuckled, “Pubic painting…”

I winked at him.

“Of course I did,” Nikolos scoffed.

“Did the bonus pubic hair up the price?” I asked innocently.

Spiridon and Nikolos chuckled heartily.

“Not that I remember,” Nikolos said. “But it should have. That buyer got my DNA. You can’t get better authentication than that. Hey, I should use that as a marketing angle.”

“What,” Spiridon said, “putting your pubic hair in all your paintings?”

“Why not?” Nikolos grinned.

“Know your limits, son,” Spiridon smiled smugly, patting him on the shoulder.

“So,” I said, “how much did the pubic hair painting sell for?”

“Oh, boy.” Nikolos looked thoughtfully at the ceiling, remembering. “I think two twenty five?”

“Dollars?” I asked.

“Thousand,” Nikolos chuckled.

“$225,000?” I gasped.

“Yeah,” he smiled.

“Wow, when did you do that?”

“Way back in ’88, I think. I told you I wanted to forget the eighties,” he grinned at Spiridon.

“Come on,” Spiridon said enthusiastically, “you were young. You were having fun. In those days, that was all you and Vesile did—” Spiridon suddenly stopped himself, clamping his mouth shut.

Nikolos dropped his chin to his chest and his shoulders sunk.

“I’m sorry, son” Spiridon said to him softly, draping his arm over Nikolos’ shoulders.

I wasn’t entirely sure why Nikolos was so emotional. But I did know one thing from working with him in his studio all the time. He never talked about his ex-wife, Christos’ mom, and I never asked. I really knew hardly anything about her. And from what I could tell, Nikolos didn’t date anybody at all. He just painted and spent time with friends and family.

“Are you okay, Nikolos?” I asked, suddenly worried. He seemed really distraught.

Nikolos raised his head and blinked away tears. “It’s nothing. I’m okay.” He turned his head away, trying to hide the emotion on his face. “Don’t worry about it,” he said a moment later. “I’ll be fine,” he sniffed.

Wow, he must have loved Vesile like crazy if he still broke down twelve years after she’d left.

I felt so bad for him.

“All right everybody,” Brandon said over the microphone. He stood in front of the two paintings still covered in black silk, “There’s one more surprise. The final unveiling. I’m sure you’re all wondering about the two paintings that are still covered up.”

The crowd murmured agreement.

“I’ll let Christos fill you in himself.” Brandon handed the mic to Christos and stepped out of the spotlight.