Page 93 of Secrets and S'mores
Alpha - Nyx
Coming inNovember...
Wolves and Watercolors
Aurora
Giant paper mache dragonflies swing above my head as the buyer in front of me tries to haggle over a statue of a screaming possum. Jarrod, the gallery manager, isn’t having it. “Sir, the artists set their prices. I can’t lower it for you.”
My highlighter yellow nails scrape paint splatter off my hands as I wait not-so-patiently. Finally, the collector buys “Existential Crisis” for full price and gets out of my way.
“Aurora, how are you, love?” Jarrod’s braids gleam with pink threaded through them. Letters covered in rainbow feathers spell out “THE BUZZ” behind his head.
“Great, I got your message about picking up my pieces, but I did finish a few new projects I wanted to show you,” I say, pulling my cracked phone from my back pocket and flicking open the photos app.
Jarrod makes a noncommittal but supportive noise in his throat while he steps through the arch to the storage room and collects my paintings. I tug my bottom lip with my teeth as he sets a stack of unsold paintings on the mosaic countertop between us. The sweet man even replaced my dilapidated cardboard with fresh sheets to protect my artwork.
“I heard a lot of compliments on this collection, and the woman who purchased the daisies was thrilled,” he says.
“I’m so glad,” I say brightly, despite knowing he is placating me. Only selling one work won’t cut it. Smiling, I hold the phone up. “Want to see the new stuff?”
Jarrod swipes, squinting at my still-life paintings of wildflowers growing in concrete cracks. “Interesting imagery,” he murmurs. “Oh, who’s this?”
He swipes to a photograph of a young woman, dark hair spilling over her shoulders and light brown eyes identical to mine, her hands resting on a very pregnant belly. Her partner wraps his tattooed arms around her waist from behind, his dark curls shading his eyes. I’ve never met my sister’s boyfriend, but he seems intense.
“Oh, that’s Hazel, my older sister. She lives in the middle of nowhere up in the mountains.”
“Did she have the baby yet?”
“I don’t think so. But it’ll be any day now,” I say with a cheerful smile that feels strained. I need him to focus on my artwork, not my sister, if I have any chance of getting into next month’s show.
“Boy or girl?” He’s still beaming at the picture.
Shrugging, I run my thumb over the rough edge of the countertop. “It’s going to be a surprise.”
“I love that,” he says, hearts in his eyes. “So I’m guessing you’ll be off to visit her soon?”
“I can’t take off,” I say. “What do you think of the new collection? They’d be perfect for next month’s show.”
Jarrod’s demeanor shifts. “Love, I’m not sure I’ve got the wall space. You know how competitive it is right now.”
I don’t, but I nod along. “Of course, I get it. You’ve been so generous in featuring me at the last few shows. But do you think my audience will miss me if I’m not there?”
“I’ll keep a stack of your business cards on thecounter for anyone who asks,” he says. It’s hard to be angry with Jarrod. He’s the nicest guy in the industry, at least in my limited experience. But when I was a fresh, untested art school drop-out, he was the only one who would give me a chance.
“Okay, well, I’ve got some interesting new projects so I’ll be back in a few weeks.” I say with a shrug, sliding my phone back into my pocket.
“You can just email them, hon.” He raises a pierced eyebrow. “Most artists email me and ship stuff. But it’s always nice to see your beautiful face.”
“I live so close and I’d miss you otherwise!” I say, scrunching my nose as I give him my most charming smile.
“Have a good spring break.” He picks up his tablet and resumes his work. I guess I’m dismissed.
Hefting my stack of artwork onto my hip, I pass a line of paintings of blue heeler dogs dressed for different careers and push my hip against the door. It swings open and the chaos of the city street washes over me.
It’s only two blocks to my apartment, past honking cars, clouds of smog and weed, and a shady Italian restaurant that I’m pretty sure is a mafia establishment. That’s why I only get takeout from them and never dine in.
My feet ache from my morning slinging mimosas and margaritas poolside at the trendy hotel another block north. The tourists were rabid over our newest guava kombucha mimosa and I walked away with a couple hundred in tips. Thank goodness, rent is due soon.
