I really liked Parker and Sophia. They seemed genuinely nice, and they really seemed to care about James. I also found it particularly encouraging that the decent people in his life were now outnumbering the crazy bitches.
I was troubled as we left, though. Seeing James interact with Elliot had only made it clearer that he wanted his own children.
"James, I'm not sure that being a mother is something I'm suited fo-"
He pulled me against him, covering my mouth with his hand. He softened the gesture by kissing the top of my head. He murmured into my ear just before the elevator door opened. "It doesn't matter, Love. We have all the time in the world to decide, and I'll let the decision be yours alone. I can't live without you. That's all there is to say about it."
I wished it was so simple, but he obviously wanted children. The thought of being the only thing that kept him from being a father filled me with guilt. I didn't know if I could be that selfish.
The crazy celebration at Red later that night was just what I needed to snap me out of that kind of thinking. Everyone was in good spirits. Our crew, sans Melissa, was there to see Stephan and I off, since we were the only ones taking the furlough right away, and they all toasted us and wished us well, and made us feel good in general, but sad to be leaving such a fun group of people. Still, none of it gave me second thoughts. I knew that what I was doing just made the most sense for me, all things considered.
The end of my career as a flight attendant was strangely anti-climactic. I worked my last turn on Sunday, and then on Monday, I went from being a full-time flight attendant to being a full-time aspiring painter. It was daunting, but exhilarating.
Stephan and Javier ended up taking the furlough as well, thanks to the rare opportunity they were getting to open their own bar in one of the strip's hottest casinos. They had plenty of work ahead of them, but not many people got the funding they did, no questions asked. We were all grateful to James for doing something so life-changing for them.
We went to L.A. the night before the gallery showing, staying at the Cavendish Resort property there, which was conveniently located next door to the Cavendish Gallery.
I got a preview of the gallery that night, and I was floored by the wonders Danika had worked. My paintings were shown at their best, the frames exquisite, the lighting in every room just perfect, the paintings grouped together by color, displayed to complement each other in the best way possible.
Danika gave us a tour of the gallery, every room displaying my paintings. I felt the need to hug the woman when we finished, grateful and in awe of what she'd done with my work.
I felt nervous anxiety course through me at even the thought of the event, but it turned out to be a pleasant evening. I had already determined that I wouldn't read any of the negative reviews about my work. No one was more critical of my work than I was, and I knew it would just wreak havoc on my creativity to obsess about the negative, so I enjoyed the event for what it was; an evening of meeting new people, and a chance to see some friendly faces.
I wore a dark gray halter dress that I felt flattered my figure, and James wore a matching tux with a light blue tie.
James stayed on my arm for the entire evening, the perfect, attentive escort. And of course, the most expensive arm candy on the face of the earth.
I even sold some paintings, which I'd thought was highly unlikely when I saw how they'd been priced. Some of the larger ones had gone for over fifty thousand dollars. It surprised me so much that I was a little in shock when Danika gave me the news. She catalogued every single painting sold for me, telling me who had purchased what and for how much.
She hugged me, beaming. She had become the biggest cheerleader for my work, and I was so grateful for that. She was a steady kind of woman, and so obviously one of substance, with clout in the art world. Having someone like that back my work with such sincerity was a confidence booster that I needed in a very fundamental way at this stage in my career. James and Stephan were fans of my work, but having a professional supporting my work, someone who wasn't my best friend or my boyfriend, was a boon that I wouldn't soon forget.
Some of the much smaller paintings sold for around the ten thousand dollar mark. Danika informed us of this with a disclaimer, "This is only because this is your first show. At the next one your work will earn bigger price tags; I guarantee it. You'll see numbers at least double or triple what we're seeing tonight." This floored me. I had thought that the prices were over the top for this one …