Page 19 of Proposal Play
Because I know Asher. “If I tell him, he’ll march up to whoever’s in charge of hiring and demand they give me the assignment.” I turn to Josie. “And I didn’t tell you at first because I didn’t want you to have to keep it from Wes. He might try to help too.”
“He would,” Josie concedes. “He can’t help himself from helping.”
I laugh. “Truer words.” I let the laughter fade and share more. “I wanted to get it on my own. I don’t want to paint the walls of the arena knowing I wasn’t truly the artist who deserved it. I want to earn it,” I admit, my throat catching.
Sometimes, it’s hard to mask my feelings. Fine, most of the time. It sucks wearing your heart on your sleeve. Which is why most of my exes are, well, exes.
If you ask Gideon, the hedge fund manager I dated last year, he’ll say I’m too emotional, too interested, too clingy. “I wish I had time for you, Maeve. But I don’t think any man can meet your needs,” he’d said. Ironic because he loved being the center of attention when we went out. Loved when I told him how handsome he was, how good he looked, and how fascinating he made the topic of finance this and ROI that. But in the end, I was too much for him. Story of my dating life.
I don’t want the Sea Dogs to pick me because I’m too needy, too desperate for the commission, which is how it might seem if everyone I know in the organization pitched me to management. I want them to hire me because they’ve fallen in love with my sketches or they can’t resist my paintbrush.
Except, clearly, they can.
I shrug, then paste on my best “moving on” smile. “Anyway, it looks unlikely, and that’s fine. When I return from Vegas, I’ll be back hustling in the art world. Angelina snagged me another live painting gig?—”
“What’s live painting?” Josie, always curious, leans closer. “And why have you never told me about it before?”
“It’s becoming more popular, actually. Some people hire painters to ‘live paint’ a wedding, a party, a celebration.”
“Sounds fun,” Fable chimes in, “and also nerve-racking.”
“It is!” I say. “Sometimes people set up camp and watch you paint the whole time. Angelina scheduled one for me tomorrow night, right after I return. A fashiondesigner is hosting an event at his home in Cow Hollow. It should be pretty fancy, with all sorts of art world types.”
“So, it’s a networking opportunity?” Everly asks.
I shake my head. “That’s frowned upon at events like this. But that’s okay. Angelina’s lining up new gallery appointments.” With stubborn optimism, I tick them off on my fingers. “The Julien Aldridge Gallery, the Freida Claiborne Gallery…I catered for both of them. So, fingers crossed. Angelina’s also talking to all sorts of brands that are using public art. Yoga studios, dance studios, boutiques, restaurants…”
I want to be hopeful even with the Sea Dogs job falling through. But I feel my career teetering on the precipice of disaster. Like soon I’ll have to decide if I should throw in the towel.
But that’s too heavy a topic for today, and I focus on the positive. “Plus, Leighton is going to take pics of some of my mirrors and vases for my site and my social.” I give Leighton a one-armed hug. It’s awkward with her next to me in the booth, but I don’t mind.
“I can photograph you live painting, too, if you want,” Leighton suggests ever the savvy young businesswoman. “You can put that on your site.”
I let out a low whistle. “You’re good. You’re very good.”
“See?” Everly says brightly. “Even if the mural doesn’t happen, you’re working all the angles. And it’s wise to look for ways to expand your opportunities. You never know where the next gig will come from.”
“Sounds like the date in Vegas is coming at a good time,” Fable puts in. “You can get away for the night and then come back refreshed and ready to jump right back into it at the party.”
Or I’ll dive into some serious self-talk about whetheror not my painting dreams are circling the drain. But I don’t mention that here.
“Exactly,” I say. “Flight’s early this afternoon. I’ve got my playlist for the plane to get in an Outrageous Record state of mind. I’ve got my favorite little skirt and a pair of cute pink boots for the show. And then I plan to enjoy a fantastic night’s sleep at The Extravagant Hotel. The band put together a nice package. I’m a big fan of hotel beds. I might even start a fan club.”
Fable’s hazel eyes widen. “You’re sharing a room with Asher?”
Laughing, I shake my head. “No. The package is for two rooms.”
“We have to request that,” Everly explains, all business. “When companies donate date packages to our player auctions, there can’t be any expectations of a romantic date at all.”
Fable’s brow furrows like she’s remembering something. “But a Renegades quarterback once fell in love with his best friend after one of these auctions. Wilder was telling me about it.” Wilder’s both her boss and boyfriend. “Cooper Armstrong, I think. But that was a while back. And back when the winning bids were twenty thousand dollars.”
Her tone’s hopeful and her glance speculative. My friends all have romance on their minds. No surprise—nearly all of them are happily paired up.
I can’t even imagine what a fulfilling partnership would be like in my life. How could I?
My mother always said,“Fulfill yourself first before you try to fulfill a partner.”Wise advice. My father was the opposite. All his happiness came from the way heworshiped my mother. Where did that blind adoration get him though, after her death?
His own end.