THIRTEEN
______
SAM
Every part of me is exhausted. My brain. My body. Everything.
I’ve spent the day showing people around the studio in the hope they’ll hire it to run classes, while running my own Saturday classes between meetings. Now the sun is setting, and I can safely say I’ve quaked, wobbled, and taught my way to the brink of collapse. And I’m still not done.
“I don’t know, Sam.” The man standing before me, Brent something-or-other, taps two fingers against his pursed lips. It’s the fourth time he’s said those words in the last ten minutes, always while scanning the room as if he hasn’t spent the past hour examining every nook and cranny.
“I like the studio, it has a nice feel to it, but the fee you’re asking is excessively high.”
Threading my fingers together to keep them from knotting up, I say nothing. The offer of a lower rate presses against the back of my gritted teeth. If I open my mouth, it’s sure to fall out.
I glance sideways at Tristan, who’s sitting on the nearby couch occupied with his ever-present notebook. He arrived twenty minutes ago, as agreed, so we could discuss the results of today’s meetings. I had no idea this last one would take so very, very long.
“I’m not sure I can justify that kind of extravagance for such a small space,” Brent adds.
What a load of hogwash!I cross my arms in a blatant show of dissatisfaction.
Researching other spaces for hire in this area was on the first list of tasks Tristan set for me. There are just a handful of them, and they’re all much older than my renovated studio. When we went over my findings, Tristan and I agreed on an hourly fee somewhere at the upper end of the middle. Not the cheapest in the area, but far from extravagant.
“You seem like a reasonable man, Sam,” Brent says with an indulgent smile. “Surely we can come to an arrangement to suit both of us. What do you say?”
I’m a people pleaser by nature, so my natural instinct is to go along with his suggestion—while silently resenting every second of it. It’s what I’ve always done. Seeing other people annoyed or angry makes me uncomfortable. When they’re annoyed with me specifically? I’ve been known to make myself miserable for the sake of escaping a well-placed glare. Which is exactly where Brent’s strained smile is heading right now, thanks to my continued silence.
“I…um…” I know what I’m supposed to say, Tristan prepared me for this situation, but I’m wavering. After all, the purpose of this exercise is to get more people hiring the studio. If I offer a cheaper rate, I know Brent will take it. Then this will be over and he’ll leave. I desperately want him to leave. “I suppose we could—”
Tristan clears his throat.
My gaze shifts to him but he’s staring at his book. Pen frozen above the page. Lips pressed together as he resolutely says absolutely nothing. Part of me wishes hewouldbutt in this time. I’m worn out. It would be so much easier to hand the problem over to someone else. But we both know how cranky I’ll be—at both of us—if I allow it to happen.
“That’s excellent news,” Brent says, as if I’ve already finished the sentence that will make my capitulation official. The almost-glare has reverted back to a smile. This time it’s smug and comes with a hint of condescension. He’s won and he knows it. I’m letting him win, all because I hate the thought of saying no.
My mouth clamps shut so hard my teeth clack. I do not have to give this man what he wants just because upsetting him makes me uncomfortable. What’s wrong with being uncomfortable, anyway? I’ve been uncomfortable all day. It’s left me strung out and sweaty, but I’m still here and this is still my studio.
Comfort is for pussies.I gasp as the words, defiant but so unnecessarily crass, sound in my head. In a cemetery on the outskirts of the city, a body rolls over in its grave.Sorry, Mum.
Uncrossing my arms, I straighten to my full height. A fresh surge of adrenaline lights up my veins. My arms and legs threaten to shake themselves loose and scamper off to parts unknown. But my conviction stays put. “What I mean to say is, I appreciate your concern, but the room fee is set. If you’d like, I can point you in the direction of a cheaper space which may be better suited to your budget.”
The smugness turns sour. “How disappointing.” He directs his glare at Tristan this time, who responds with a derisive snort. A few minutes later, Brent is gone.
With a weary moan, I lower myself to the floor until I’m spreadeagled in the middle of the room. I did it. I made it through the whole day.
A slow clap starts as Tristan ambles across the room with a wide grin. “Well done,” he says. “You handled him perfectly.”
I’m not sure I agree, but I’ll take it. “Thanks for the back-up.”
He winces as he sits beside me. “I hope I didn’t overstep again.”
“No, it’s all right. I think I needed the jolt. To remind me I’m in charge.”
“That’s good, then.” He bites down on his bottom lip, trying not to laugh. “I’ll bet he’s calling you all kinds of names right now.”
Groaning, I cover my face with my hands. “Don’t remind me. I don’t want to know.”
Tristan gives in to the laughter. Circling my wrists, he tugs my hands away so he can look me in the eyes. “You did the right thing,” he insists. “Trust me, you don’t want to invite a stingy bugger like him into your bubble. Once you do, you’ll never get rid of him.”
