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day 71
Dave took great care in cutting the story about the Vacancy show at Yoshi Oba’s Art Motel out of the Vancouver paper. He studied the photographs. They were in colour and two featured Rebecca. There was Rebecca in a tight black skirt, a tank top and boots and some fur shawl-thing covering her shoulders. Worse, there was Rebecca outside, in a park, kissing – really kissing – that guy. Devin’s eyes were closed and his face was partially blocked by Rebecca’s, but this was of no mind to Dave. He knew what Devin looked like. First there were the reports in the local paper, stories by Paula, Jeremy, but mostly ones picked up from a wire service written by whoever was assigned that day to follow Rebecca. The stories hinted at a possible romance with that guy, this Devin whatever. Then there was the information he’d found online – articles, photos of his art, reviews of his work. Dave printed a copy of everything he found and filed it in a dossier he kept hidden at the bottom of a bankers box underneath a pile of winter sweaters in the corner of his closet. Of the articles written about Devin to date, Dave knew that a full one-hundred percent described him as either up-and-coming or an up-and-comer. He was handsome and charming or charming and handsome. Over half called him cocky. Nine of the thirty-eight stories he’d found said his smile was devastating and three of those ran with the headline, Devastating Devin. These were the ones that had little or nothing to do with his art. Rather, they were style profiles that featured him mugging in expensive suits or dressed down in equally expensive streetwear designed to look like mismatched thrift store clothes.
This latest story branded Devin a sensation, his Totem Hole installation a revelation and decreed that he and Rebecca were “poised to become the hip new power couple of the Vancouver art scene.” Dave thought he might vomit. |
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