The knock on the studio door startles me, I'm nowhere near ready for Flynn to see my work. I pick up some of my clothes and start shoving them back into the black garbage bag they spilled out of. "Coming!" I yell. Not even halfway done. Screw it! I toss the bag on my mattress. That's as good as its gonna get. Unbolting the door I swing it open, jumping back when I see Truex in front of me.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask, confused. "Is Mya, okay?" I ask, worriedly.
"She's fine. We just didn't think it was smart for you to be meeting some random guy alone." He replies.
"He's not random. I've been to his gallery." I say, irritated that they would think I'd be that stupid.
He shrugs, not saying anything. "Fine, come in." I offer, going back to picking up my clothes. I look at the clock on the wall, its 20 to 6. I still have some time to get this mess cleared up. Putting my clothes in the corner of the room out of the way, I then start neatly stacking boxes against the wall.
"You can't live here." He comments, from behind me.
"Funny, because I already am." I challenge, feeling my hackles rise from his tone of voice.
"That door is basically patched together rotted wood and there's no heat in here." He states, looking around the small room.
I point to my space heater. He doesn't even look. "You're staying with us, until you get the new studio."
"And give up this life of luxury, not happening." I reply, refocusing on tidying up.
"Yes." He states, strongly.
I roll my eyes at his response. "How long have we known each other? In what universe did you think telling me I was moving in with you two would be a good idea?"
"Fair enough. Would you like to move in until you can afford another place?"
"humm...I don't know.'' I say, pretending to think about it.
"Briar." He warns. I smile, knowing I'm testing his patience.
"Yes. Just stop begging." I tease, kind of relieved. I didn't count on how cold the nights are here. Even with the space heater, I still freeze. ''Thanks, by the way. You have my word I'll be out as soon as I possibly can." I say, meeting his eyes so he knows that I truly mean it.
He doesn't respond and I don't ask him to, because the knock on the door distracts me. I smooth out my hair just before opening the door. "Hi, Flynn. Thanks for driving all the way out here."
"My pleasure." He replies, kissing both my cheeks. I stand aside, letting him come in and close the door. I turn around and almost run into his back.
"Oh, sorry. This is, Truex Marshall. Truex this is Flynn Simmons, he owns the art gallery I was telling you about." I state, awkwardly. My nerves starting to get the best of me, this happens every time I show any of my pieces. With Truex here its even more nerve wrecking. I've been rejected from gallery after gallery, to say I have butterflies in my stomach would be an understatement.
Flynn holds out his hand. "I know who he is."
Stunned. I ask, "You know each other?"
Flynn, laughs. "No, I just know of him. Big football fan." He explains.
"Oh." I smile, uncomfortably. Not knowing how to respond, so I get down to business. ''Well, here's my work." I offer, gesturing to the stacks of canvases leaning against all available wall space. "I'm sorry its not displayed better. I'm working on getting a bigger place." I explain, apologetically.
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.