“Zy painted this… with you?” I was shocked. Zy was talented, but piecing together one of my favorite pieces from memory was on a different level.
“It was his idea. He wanted to do something for you.”
“This means so much. I can’t wait to thank him,” I said. “Thank you, baby.”
He didn’t say anything, just dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around me in my chair, like he was holding every broken piece of me together. I melted into him, burying my face in his shoulder, letting the safety of his arms comfort me.
“I think you should repeat the chorus.”
“You my producer now?” Quade glanced up at me from behind the glass. Quade was in the booth recording, while I finished up the painting I’d been working on all morning.
“I’m just saying. It hit harder the second time.” I smirked and dipped my brush into the water cup.
“Alright, I’ll run it back,” he said, then leaned back into the mic. I kept on painting, brushing a thin streak of gold across the canvas. We’d fallen into a rhythm lately, me painting, him recording, both of us sharing the space without stepping on each other’s toes, supporting each other in our crafts perfectly.
I reached for the green paint and caught the screen of my phone lighting up. Slowly, I set the brush down and reached for it. It was probably Teagan reminding me to take my meds or another blog post about Quae Lo’s disabled girlfriend’s house burning down. But as I clicked the notifications, my mouth dropped.
Patrice Kelly Design Team: Design Collab Opportunity
I stared at the message for a minute before clicking it. Was this spam? Was someone playing with me? Slowly, I tapped it.
Dear Noa,
We had the pleasure of attending your recent gallery show,and we’re completely captivated by your collection. Your work spoke to us in a way that nothing has in a long time.
We would love to collaborate with you on a collection featuring your original designs on our handbags and apparel. We envision a full rollout and creative direction led by you.
If you’re interested, let us know your availability this week to connect.
Warmly,
—The Patrice Kelly Creative Team
My vision blurred as the tears instantly fell from my eyes. I wasn’t even thinking about the gallery show anymore. I’d done it, enjoyed it, and moved on. I never thought anything like this would come from it.
“Noa!” The music in the booth stopped, and Quade made his way out and over to me, headphones still wrapped around his neck.
“Noa?” He called my name again. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
I held the phone out to him with shaky hands. I was too consumed with emotions to speak. He took it quickly. His eyes scanned the screen, and then his mouth dropped open.
“Yo…” He looked at me, then back at the screen. “Yo, this real?”
I nodded, tears falling fast down my face. “They were at the gallery,” I whispered. “They saw my stuff, and… they want me to do a whole line.”
He grinned as he closed the space between us and scooped me up from my chair like I weighed nothing.
“A fucking fashion line!” He spun me around in the middle of our studio. My arms wrapped around his neck on instinct as I laughed through my tears, and the room blurred behind us.
“Noa, baby, this is fucking huge,” he said. “They want to put my baby’s art on bags. In campaigns. Your name on a whole damn collection. The whole damn world is going to know your talent. That’s dope as fuck!” He kissed me long and hard as I cried in his arms.
“I didn’t expect something like this to ever happen to me, especially not now. Not after the fire.”
“The universe don’t play about you, baby.” He kissed the top of my head. “You needed a win. And it delivered.”
“I gotta call Teagan.” I laughed through the tears.
“You better.” He brushed my bang out of my face. “She’s already going to be mad I knew about it first.”
