The man had “Art Critic” written all over his face.

He frowned, took a step to the side and squinted.

Mag had to laugh.  He reminded her of that governor who the ex had entertained a few years ago, the one who most likely never drank anything except for Bud and yet pretended to be a connoisseur of fine Bordeaux.  Where was he from, Alabama?  Texas?  No matter.  His expressions were just priceless as he twirled and sniffed the glass he obviously felt was oversized.  He then held the glass up to the light before he almost choked on the huge gulp he downed.  He pretended to love it, but it was obvious he hated every drop.

The art critic’s expressions were even more obvious.

She sighed.

Well, she’d have to rescue this one since he was most likely going to give her a zero-star review in the Times.

“Excuse me, sir.”

He looked her way.

“I believe that you are supposed to stand here.  You know, right on this star.”

Continue reading →