I squirmed, unsure of what to say. The collector looked even closer at what I was sure was my handprint.
“All of our clients are going to be invited to a special showing next month,” Jake was saying to the art collector. “It’s a wine reception with the head director of the Met.”
“The Met? Really?”
“If you’re at all interested, it might be worth it to start your collection earlier rather than later.” Jake was as smooth as a garden snake when it came to selling art. The collector was nodding like Jake had him by the strings.
“It’s not for sale,” I blurted out suddenly. Both the collector and Jake looked over at me.
“What?” they both asked at the same time.
“I mean, it’s not ready yet.”
“Ready?”
The collector peered at me, his white bushy eyebrows gathering together in the middle of his forehead.
“The contrast isn’t right,” I said, grabbing at the palette knife that still had some white paint on it. I reached for the canvas.
“Lacey!”
Jake stopped my movement with his word. I looked at him and he shook his head slightly. The collector looked back and forth between us, baffled by our behavior.
“Always the artist,” Jake said, staring down at me and laughing a hard, brittle laugh. “Never done with a piece.”
“This one really isn’t done,” I insisted.
“Lacey—”
“Jake!”
Stupid me. The collector was intrigued by our argument.
“I’ll take it,” he said. “Wrap it up and send it to my office. Just like that.”
Jake bowed slightly as he plucked the piece from in front of me. I was left standing with a palette knife in my hand.
He led the art collector to the door, chatting amiably with him. I stood in the hallway, gaping as Jake shut the door behind the man. He brushed his shoulders off as he walked back toward me.
I shook my head as he came over to me.
“I can’t believe you just did what you just did.”
“I saved the sale, didn’t I?”
“I didn’t want you to save the sale! I didn’t want to sell that piece!” I cried.
“You need to learn how to do business. We said at the beginning that everything on that wall was for sale. He’s happy with it!”
“It wasn’t done! It wasn’t perfect yet!” I yelled.
“Of course it wasn’t!” Jake yelled back. “None of them are perfect!” He clapped his hand over his face right away, realizing that it was the totally wrong thing to say.
“Lacey…” he said, trailing off.
I fumed. Of course, it was true, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. None of my pieces were perfect. None of them were finished. I was never finished with anything.
“I only wanted to make you happy,” he said.
“You can’t make me happy by controlling my art! By controlling my life!” I threw my arms up, and the curly coral fabric swung up too, smacking me in the face. I crossed my arms angrily.
“Lacey, please don’t start an argument the day I leave—”
“I’m not starting an argument. You’re the one flirting with other girls and shoving me aside like I don’t even exist. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to lunch with some friends.”
God, it made me so mad. Sure, we had gotten a sale, but it wasn’t a real sale. It was Jake again, schmoozing like the businessman he was in order to get someone to buy what he wanted them to buy.
Well, I wasn’t buying any of it.
I was too mad to even change. I picked up my purse from the table and slung it over my shoulder. This wasn’t what I wanted, not at all. I wanted to have my own art career, not the scraps from whatever Jake had left over for me.
“Bye,” I said.
“I’ll see you when you get home,” Jake said, but I was already storming out the door.
Chapter Seven
“Cute top.”
“Ugh, can you please not compliment this top?” I asked, sinking down to the cafe table where Steph and Rachel were already sitting. I slung my purse over the back of my chair.
“Why not?” Steph leaned on one hand and sipped at her wine.
“I think it’s really cute,” Rachel chimed in.
“You’re both ridiculous, the two of you,” I said.
“Why, did Jake buy it for you?”
“It’s flowy,” she said, touching the frills of fabric cascading down my arms. “It reminds me of nature.”
“Exactly. I feel like a sea anemone,” I said.
“Drink some of my wine. It’ll make you sway back and forth like an anemone.” Steph grinned wickedly.
“So is there trouble in the art studio?” Rachel asked. “Jake getting on your nerves by making you wear dresses?”