Rochelle Weiss and Sheryl arrived at the brownstone studio on Wednesday and knocked on the second floor door. Rochelle’s face looked distorted and perplexed through the glass.
“Come right this way,” Aria welcomed.
Aria noticed that Rochelle’s arm where her purse hung from was bent close to her body and rather tense.
Working on a new piece, Kiev barely looked up as they entered. Rochelle’s face dropped slightly when she entered the room, seeing Kiev. It brightened when her eyes fell on the numerous pieces around the room. Sheryl entered the room, immediately wandering. The two, Rochelle and Sheryl, spent the next thirty minutes in silence, seeming to dance with the sculptures. Rochelle gazed at Kiev working skillfully with the cutting knife and trimming tools. A spark ignited. She folded her arms and jammed her finger into her cheek.
“Aria, whom do I speak with about these sculptures?” asked Rochelle.
“Kiev.” Aria pointed to him.
Rochelle let out a small huff.
“How should I communicate with him?” Rochelle asked.
Aria squinted her eyes, and tried to read Rochelle’s question. “Do you speak Italian? If not he also understands English.”
“Aria, if I didn’t know you I’d think you were trying to be a smart aleck. I am interested in buying and brokering Kiev’s sculptures. Who am I to speak to about that?”
“Him, I guess, but I can help you.”
“Maybe it would be helpful under these circumstances if another adult could be present. I’d like to know his story too?”
“I can ask my Uncle Rudy or Uncle Sasha, Kiev’s twin.”
“May I have their number?”
Rochelle walked over to Kiev.
“Your pieces are divine. I hope you will be interested in sharing them with the world. And I hope we can be friends. Good friends.”