Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83912 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“I’d like you to present at least four pieces. You pick, but I’ll need them in the gallery in four weeks.”
“Of course. Not a problem at all.”
“Excellent. We’re holding a little VIP party at the gallery this weekend, Saturday night, which just happens to be Sara’s birthday. We’d love it if you’d come. And bring a guest, of course.”
“I’d love that. Thank you.”
“You have talent, Faith Winter. Believe in you. We do.” He ends the call.
I set the phone down, and I’m not a crier, not at all, but my eyes pinch. My chest is tight. This is my dream. This is everything. I grab my cell phone to call Nick. That’s my first instinct. To call Nick. But I don’t dial his number. He’s in a deposition. I can’t believe he’s the one person I wanted to call. But I still do. Instead, I dial Josh, and he answers on the first ring. “He called you,” he says.
“You know already,” I say, and my voice cracks.
“I know. So, are you in on this or not?”
“I’m in,” I say. “How can I not be in?”
“Pick up the paintbrush and get to work.”
“Josh—”
“I was out of line. I fucked up, Faith. I’m protective. That’s personal, and there’s no place for that in business. I’m your agent because you’re good at what you do. The end.”
“Thank you, Josh. I’m fortunate to have you in my corner.”
“That said, on a professional note that has a personal influence: Macom is my best friend, but creative types are inherently insecure. He put down your work because of his insecurity. It affected you, and I think it’s why you’ve used everything else as an excuse to stay away from painting. Make sure Nick Rogers does what you said. He inspires you to paint. If he does, I’ll back off. If he doesn’t, I’m not going to lose another two years of our work. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough,” I say, appreciating the fact that he doesn’t expect me to respond about Macom. He’s right. Macom affected me in all kinds of ways. He still does.
“News on those sales soon, and the show. I’ll be in touch.” He hangs up.
I set my phone down and lower my lashes. I’m so confused right now. And angry. If my mother hadn’t created this mess, I could just let Kasey run this place. Now, that man trusts me and lives for this place, and I might lose it. He might lose it. And Chris Merit called me. Chris Merit! And I am painting again, and that is because of Nick.
I look at the email again.
Faith:
What the fuck are you doing to me?
Nick
P.S. Don’t stop.
I have so much I want to say to him, and I decide that in the sea of lies that is my life right now, honesty rules, and so I type:
Nick:
I hate what you made me feel last night, and yet when Chris Merit called me today to invite me to an event this weekend, I thought of only one person: you.
Faith
P.S. Stop being an asshole like you were last night.
I lean back in my chair and glance around my office, pictures of the winery on my walls. Not a one that is personal. Nothing in this office is mine, and yet, I guess if I inherit this place, everything is mine. My cellphone rings, and I glance down to find Nick’s number. Adrenaline surges through me with crazy fierceness, and I look at the clock that reads noon.
“Nick,” I answer. “Don’t you have a deposition?”
“We’re on our lunch break. How did I make you feel, Faith?”
“Like you’re my enemy again.”
“I’m not your enemy.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why would I be your enemy?”
I inhale and let it out. “You’re making me feel like the minute you discover any mistake I’ve made in my life, it’s over. We’re done. You’re making me feel I can’t ever let you see a flaw, of which I have many.”
“That is not my intention, sweetheart. You’re perfect to me. Too fucking perfect for my own good.”
“See. I know you mean that as a compliment, but the underlying implication is that you want to find a flaw. Stop being an asshole, Nick Rogers.”
“Right. Stop being an asshole. This is new territory for me, Faith.”
“You said that. I get that. It is for me, too, and I don’t even know what this is, but I apparently need to know.”
“That makes two of us, sweetheart. Tell me about Chris calling.”
“You have work.”
“Tell me.”
“He wants to showcase my work. I’ll fill you in later, but I apparently need a date for Saturday night in San Francisco. Will you be my date, Nick?”
“You damn sure aren’t taking anyone else. Yes, Faith. I’ll be your date. I’ll arrange to have a charter plane pick you up and bring you to me.”
“That’s not necessary.”