“Does he now?” Bennett said, glancing at Lisa.

“Yes, he does,” Lisa said, smiling. “And he also mentioned he’s come across an artist who had some pieces he thought would be perfect for Rapture.”

“Such as the four-foot phallus currently erect on my center monitor?”

“Exactly, so I called Pierre to get some more information. The guy’s name is Raphael Voclain. None of the reputable galleries will touch his stuff because of the subject matter, and since he’s your typical starving artist, he depends on word of mouth and a few off-the-beaten-path galleries, none of which are really doing anything for him.”

“And you think we can?”

“If he’s as good as Pierre says he is, yes. The only problem is the guy doesn’t have any portfolio to speak of, and his website leaves a lot to be desired. Pierre took that photo a few days ago, and he’s offered to talk to Voclain on our behalf if we’d like, except I’m pretty sure that’s not going to work for you.”

“You’re right. Rapture is too important to let others pick out what we display. Don’t get me wrong, Pierre has a great eye for art, but he’s not familiar with our clients,” Bennett said, sliding her hand into her pockets. “So, that means it looks like you’ll be flying to Paris.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Do you honestly think I’m going to spend seven hours in an airplane to go look at a penis? You’re the one into men, not me,” Bennett said, moving out from behind the desk. “Besides, there’s no reason you shouldn’t go. You know who’s on our guest list, you know their proclivities, and you know how much they’re willing to pay.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely. Go home. Book a flight. Pack a bag. Spend a few days in Paris and check out the penises. Finn can cover the gallery, can’t he?”

“Of course.”

“Then what’s the problem? Oh, wait. You and Jimmy weren’t planning on a weekend tryst, were you? I don’t want to intrude on—”

“Our relationship is casual, Bennett. Trust me, we have no trysts scheduled.”

“Why? Doesn’t he know the meaning of the word?”

Lisa came from behind the desk and strode to the closet. “I’m sure he does,” she said, kicking off her shoes. “But our only plans were to meet for dinner tonight.” As Lisa slipped on a pair of tan leather flats, she looked up and saw Bennett scowling back at her. Lisa straightened. “Don’t even start.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“You didn’t have to. Your face said it all.”

“I’ll just never understand how you can date a dwarf.”

“Jimmy is not a dwarf. He’s five-six. That’s hardly dwarf material.”

“Is that with or without the lifts in his shoes?”