Page 14 of The Art of Being a Psychopath

“She is Press,” Lloyd clipped. “And I’m concerned about the other patrons here tonight who might not want a reporter in the main area when the performance is on. You know how these things can get out of hand. They wouldn’t want to be quoted saying or doing anything that could damage their reputation. Also, my boss wouldn’t like...”

Alex cut him off.

“She’s a person first, not just Press,” he hissed. “And if someone says or does something they should be ashamed of, then more fool them if they get found out.”

I didn’t want to cause a problem, and as much as I would’ve liked to sit with Alex and the others, I was here to work, and I needed to clear my head and concentrate. I had a job to do.

“It might be better if I stay in the Press area,” I announced, slicing through the tension. “I need to stay focused, make notes, and take photos. I can do that better if I’m with the other reporters.”

Alex flexed his jaw and took a moment to think before he replied, “Only if you’re sure. You know sitting with us would be no problem.”

I nodded.

“Honestly, its fine.”

Lloyd grinned wide, happy something was going his way. “That’s settled then. Come on, Emma. I’ll show you where to go.”

I said my goodbyes to Tobey and Ethan, then I turned to Alex, who looked unsettled, like he didn’t want me to leave, but didn’t know what else to say. I can’t lie, I felt slightly unsettled myself, but I had to do my job. And I was thankful to have met him tonight. He had been quite the distraction.

“It was so lovely to meet you. Thank you for the peony,” I said, then turned to walk away, and he blurted out, “If you change your mind, you know where to find us.”

I peered over my shoulder and smiled. “Thank you.” Then I disappeared into the crowd.

“I hope you’re prepared for anything to happen during this performance,” Lloyd announced in an overly animated tone as I tried to clear my head of thoughts of Alex Kingston and his mesmerising smile, and refocus on where we were going and what I had to do.

Lloyd led me through the gallery, as I moved like I was wading through quicksand, adding, “S.K.A.M. tends to be no-holds-barred when he performs. It can get quite...” He leaned closer as he whispered his last word, “Dark.”

Mr. Gold had said I’d see things that’d make my hair curl. Now Lloyd was warning me things could get dark. Surely it wouldn’t be that shocking. This didn’t look like the kind of audience to pay money to see something nefarious. I think Lloyd was an expert at overselling when it came to this gallery, the artists, and the patrons.

“I can’t wait. I’m sure I’ll love it,” I replied, as we headed through the glass doors at the rear of the gallery and out into a pretty, cobbled courtyard. “I’ve never seen an art performance before.”

“I don’t know what he’s got planned.” Lloyd turned to face me as he continued walking ahead. “But his art is a little leftfield. It won’t be like anything you’ve ever seen before.”

I hadn’t seen anything before. I’d already told him that, but I just nodded and smiled politely.

I glanced around the courtyard as Lloyd headed to the far corner, where an area had been cordoned off from the rest of the guests. It was so pretty out here. All the trees had been decorated with fairy lights, and there were wrought iron tables and chairs dotted around, giving it an outdoor Parisien café vibe, for the paying guests, anyway. The press area was more of a pen. No chairs or tables, just the attending men and women with cameras and dictaphones standing around, ready to work. All I had was my phone. I probably looked like such an amateur, but I was determined to fake it and appear professional.

Lloyd held the rope of the cordon open for me, so I could enter the Press area, then he hooked it back onto the brass pole once I was inside.

“Would you mind if I left you for a moment?” he announced suddenly. “Only I have to sort a few things out backstage. Will you be okay?”

To be honest, I was relieved that he needed to leave. I’d rather stand on my own. It was kind that he’d taken me under his wing, but it was beginning to feel stifling.

“As long as I can catch you later for a quick interview,” I replied, politely.

“Of course.” Lloyd smiled, and then, after excusing himself, he disappeared back into the art gallery and out of sight.

I took a deep breath, feeling more relaxed now that I was safely ensconced in the corner, amongst the other reporters.

The guests were starting to filter into the courtyard, and suddenly, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up as someone approached me from the side.

I turned, and there stood Alex Kingston.

“Emma, you can’t stand here on your own and watch this. It doesn’t feel right.” He looked genuinely concerned.

“I’ll be fine. Honestly. I have a good view, and I can get some amazing photos for my article.”

He didn’t respond right away, just paused and regarded me curiously, before saying, “I’m not going to change your mind, am I?”