HE GAVE HIS MISTRESS MY PADDLE. HE FORGOT THE AUCTION HOUSE BELONGED TO ME

There was no sign above the entrance.

People wealthy enough to enter were expected to know where it was.

On the night of the auction, rain polished Manhattan black.

My driver opened the car door beneath the club’s green awning. Camera flashes burst from the sidewalk, though the event was supposed to be private.

That was Julian’s work.

He wanted photographs continue reading …