The Gallery Assistant by Kate Belli

Author:Kate Belli
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria/Emily Bestler Books
Published: 2025-10-14T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

I went through the motions of work for the rest of the day, but it was useless. I kept seeing the picture of myself being carried, looking lifeless, and put in a car. The knowledge that whoever that was had somehow gotten into my apartment, seen me naked.

That whoever it was may have been the person who killed Inga.

At 4:30 I gave up, shut down my computer, and made my way back to Brooklyn.

It was dark by the time I emerged from the Bedford Avenue station. Ricci’s was shuttered, and the street was weirdly empty. Lights and music poured through the windows of Vera Cruz, though, offering a measure of comfort. I peered in the windows from the street and didn’t see anyone I knew at the bar, so I popped my head into Rosemary’s instead.

Lisel was there, a fresh beer in front of her, in a green-and-white polka-dot dress from the 1940s. I had no idea if Vik was home or not and couldn’t bear the thought of sitting alone in my empty apartment, replaying the image of myself being carried into a waiting car over and over and over in my head.

I took the stool next to her.

Calvin and Penny didn’t show up that night, but Edward did. He was still nursing his heartbreak but was in better spirits than the last time I’d seen him. I bummed a cigarette off him and ordered. One beer turned into many, the oblivion I craved slowly creeping through my bloodstream along with the alcohol, the music and laughter a balm.

I didn’t tell my friends about going to the police station. I didn’t tell them about getting so blackout drunk I didn’t remember being carried from a party and deposited in my apartment. I didn’t tell them about the trail of messages in Inga’s paintings, or about Carl showing up at the warehouse.

I didn’t want to talk about any of it. I wanted all of it to not be true, so for a few hours, I pretended like it wasn’t. Like none of it was happening. I danced with Frank twice. I flirted with the cute guy who showed up on the stool next to me until it was clear he was more interested in Lisel, and then I happily left them to it, filled with drunken warmth for them when they started making out around eleven. Edward called in an order of Chinese food from three blocks over and braved the cold to pick it up for us; we cheered its arrival and filled ourselves with greasy noodles and pork fried rice. As I ate, I dimly realized it was the first food I’d had all day.

“I am drunk,” I declared, leaning against Lisel.

“Me too,” she giggled. The cute guy, whose name I couldn’t remember though I knew he designed websites—Tom? Todd?—had gone to the bathroom. “I think I’m going home with him,” she whispered in my ear. “Will you be okay?”

Edward had left a few minutes ago, saying the Chinese food had given him indigestion.

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