The Artist & The Q.B.

Ch. 3

He starts thumbing through them, focusing on each piece. "What are these numbers?" He asks, pointing to the little post-its in the corner of each canvas.

"Just the order in which I completed them."

He nods as he looks through the canvases. "Your work is interesting. The contrast in subject and emotion from your first canvas to your last is progressively different. Dark to bright, heavy to light. A very intriguing vision, original. I know exactly how I'd display them in the gallery." He mutters to himself. It feels like an eternity before Flynn looks up from the last of my work. The room is dead silent until he says, "I'd like to have you come by the gallery next week with photos of each piece so we can discuss them further and set prices. Right now we're full and I don't want to split up the collection, but I think in a few weeks we could give you a show."

My mouth drops. "Seriously?" I ask, dazed. Theres no way I just got offered a show. I figured maybe a little feedback on my work, if I was lucky he'd display a few pieces of my collection. I didn't even expect him to be interested in giving me a showing. MY OWN FUCKING SHOW! "Are you sure?" I question, not understanding why he'd take on an artist that hasn't established herself in the art community.

He chuckles and nods, "I'm sure. Every couple of months we host an emerging new artist. It will feed your career, it's a great opportunity. Just don't forget who gave you your start." He points out, smiling.

I shake my head. Afraid to say anything for fear I'll screw something up, so I just stand still with a big smile on my face. When I notice the silence is making things awkward I blurt out, "I'm scared if I talk or move, you might change your mind."

He laughs. "I appreciate your honesty. I'll have my secretary call you to set up a time to meet."

"Thanks again." I say, following him to the door.

"I'll see you soon. It was nice meeting you Mr. Marshall." He says, nodding toward Truex and walking out the door. When the door shuts I turn to Truex in excitement. "Can you believe it! I got a show!" I shout, jumping up and down.

"Congratulations." He replies.

Even Truex can't dampen my excitement as I race to grab my bag full of clothes. "Hurry! I want to tell, Mya."

He steps forward to take my bag from me and I find my purse and keys. Locking the door behind me. I walk to my car and slide behind the wheel, watching Truex get in his truck that is parked in front of me. I put the key in the ignition and turn, nothing. I turn the key again. Of course this would happen today. Thanks for keeping me in check universe! I get out and lock the doors.

"What's wrong?" He asks, walking towards me.

"It won't start." I tell him.

Nodding his head toward the truck he says, "Get in." After he starts the engine he asks, "Did you eat?"

"Nope, lets get food from that Thai place." I suggest, knowing its one of his favorites.

He hands me his phone. "Call it in."

I place our usual order and we stop to pick it up before going to his house. When we pull into the driveway Mya runs out. "You didn't call! How'd it go?"

I try to act sad and disappointed, but I ruin it by smiling. "He's giving me my own show!" I scream.

Her face changes from sympathetic to ecstatic in the space of a heartbeat. "I knew It! Congrats! I'm so happy for you, B!"

"Thanks! I couldn't believe it, when he said it I could barely talk." I laugh, recalling what happened. "Ask your brother, I was in a state of complete shock."

"I'm sure you were, and Truex was there becau -" She asks, sounding bewildered but I know better.

"Because you both think I'm a complete idiot for inviting a gallery owner to my studio. Yeah, he told me." I say, offended.

Truex Marshall

Briar walks ahead of us and I go to follow, but Mya grabs my arm. "You went to her studio?" She asks, in disbelief.

"I did." I answer.

"Truex, what are you doing?" She asks, clearly confused by my behavior. "She's my best friend."

Like I need the reminder, I think to myself. When I don't respond she scoffs and throws her hands up in frustration.

"Wait, what is this?" She questions, suspiciously. Pointing to the garbage bag. She looks up at me, her eyes wide. "What did you do?"

"I offered her a place to stay." I answer, not expanding on the situation. I can sense she wants to ask more questions so instead of waiting I move past her and into the house. Briar is already digging into her meal, not even looking up when I walk into the kitchen.

"What are you guys doing?" Briar asks, as she opens my container of food and takes a bite. "Your food is getting cold."

"How is it?" I question, trying to hide my amusement.

"I like yours better." She replies, sliding my food towards me reluctantly. "Where's Mya?"

''No idea." I tell her, not caring.

She stops eating to stare at me. "What's going on?" She asks, suspiciously. I shrug in response. "Use your words, Truex." She orders.

"Mya's fine." I say, taking a bite of her food.  She doesn't look like she believes me, but continues to eat instead of seeking Mya out.

"Go find her if you're so concerned." I suggest. I see her apprehensive look and smirk.

She huffs and looks at me distrustfully. "And leave you alone with all the food. Not falling for it, buddy." She replies, poking my arm. "I hope you were careful with my luggage. My bags are expensive." She says, turning to see if Mya is near.

I smile at her statement, becoming aware we haven't had any real argument in the last couple hours. A record for us I'm sure. It feels good to eat with her without bickering back and forth. Although, I admit it. I'm to blame for most of the fights. I just can't help myself with her.

    She's so different than what I'm used to, honest to a fault and quick witted. I found her enthralling from the moment I met her, but she made it obvious I wasn't anything she could relate to. Her attitude and views towards sports and those who play them, I take personally. I invited her to the Super Bowl the biggest game a football player can play in, but she had no interest in coming. Which tells me she has no interest in me, that in itself drives me crazy. I literally haven't so much as looked at another woman since she came in my life.

    As pathetic as it sounds, I've devised a plan to get her. Studying her as if she was a game tape and I've notice a few things. She's headstrong, refuses to be wrong, independent, scared of relationships (i.e. Marriage) and man does she have a temper. However, she loves to laugh, literally lights up any room she walks into, but above all she is real and authentic. What you see is what you get with her and I want it.

"Let's start fighting about something. This is throwing me off." She complains, shifting uncomfortably in her seat.

"I was just thinking how nice this is." I mutter, in response.

"I don't like it." She says, wearily.

"You like arguing with me that much?"

She ponders the question for a few seconds. "Yes, only because I like winning our arguments."

"I let you win." I reply, instantly getting the reaction I expected.