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I finish paying the cab driver and get out of the cab, extra careful in my heels and long dress. I had the driver drop me off at a bodega about a block down from the gallery.
I had a weird desire to have cigarettes in my purse. I don't smoke anymore, aside from that one relapse a few weeks ago, but I have this craving for it tonight. I won't smoke it though. I hope. I just felt this weird need to have a pack in my clutch. If Greyson and Taylor do end up showing up, I might actually need to smoke it.
This night is stressful enough as it. It's the culmination of my program which means that not only am I showing off my artwork to some of the top curators, artists, and upper class folk of New York, but I'm done with my trial period. I'm going to have to make a decision within the week about whether or not I'm going to stay in New York for a year or go back home.
God, maybe I do need to smoke a cigarette.
"Can I get a pack of Marlboro lights? Silver please," I say to man working at the bodega, as I pull out cash from my black clutch.
"A little dressed up for a cigarette run, huh?" He asks with a smile, handing me my pack.
"Long night ahead of me," I respond, nodding at him to keep the change before sticking the pack in my clutch and beginning my walk down the block.
I'm catching a lot of stares, unsurprisingly. I'm decked out in a long tight satin emerald green dress that accents my eyes and has a slit to accent my long legs. I paired it with gold jewelry and sparkly gold heels that bring out my yellow undertones and naturally tan skin. I'll even admit to myself that I look great, not to mention Connor's nonstop compliments when I facetimed him earlier, but I feel anything but it.
Talking to Connor, thinking about going to this gallery showing, thinking about having to make a decision about New York, about having to talk with Greyson. All of it makes me sick. Frankly, I feel fucking dreadful, but hopefully a glass of champagne will fix all of it.
When I arrive at the gallery and walk in, immediately it feels like all eyes are on me. I'm the fresh meat after all. All the other artists in the program have a few gallery previews under their belt already, meanwhile this is my first one.
Rose makes her way to me, looking something like a greek goddess in her soft blue gown. "Oh, Jo, darling. You look absolutely ravishing. Every man in this gallery is going to be after you."
I stick up a forced smile which she can see right through. "Don't worry," She adds. "I'll ward them off for you."
"Thank you, Rose. I'm a bit nervous about tonight," I admit to her. "For more reasons than one." My eyes dart towards the door as more people make their way in, but I see no signs of Greyson and Taylor.
"Expecting someone?" She asks with raised eyebrows. I look at her knowingly. "Ah, I see. Well, don't forget to enjoy yourself some tonight. Regardless of your decision next week, know that I am so beyond proud of all your work and you should be too. You were meant to be an artist, Johanna and no matter your choice, know that is your true path."
