“Why?”
“Because in the public’s mind, I’ve gone from MVP to loser to married and suddenly interesting again.”
I relax my body against the sink. “This can’t be good for you at all—I won’t let Principal Bennett fire you. I’ll go explain what happened?—”
“And tell her what? How you gave me your number and asked me to dinner? And then what? I look like the guy who didn’t have good boundaries with parents. Besides, I was very much a willing participant here.” We sit in silence and I keep coming up empty for a solution.
“I got it.” His eyes light up and he gives me a half smile.
I’m not sure I’m ready to hear this. He’s way too sure of himself. “Okay?”
“This is going to sound insane and inappropriate but I’m ready to cash in my quid pro quo.”
My jaw drops, and I sputter a laugh. “I’m sorry and what? Are you suggesting we get married for real?”
He puts the glass on the counter and paces the length of the kitchen, ready to talk me through the plan he clearly has just concocted. “Yes.”
My jaw drops. “You’re kidding.”
“Hear me out. We both want to resurrect our careers and this is how we do it.”
He’s insane, but I’m curious. “Let’s say we do get married. I already claimed we are and anybody who cares enough to dig around will find out I lied and this whole thing will scream of a scam and blow up in our faces.”
Max stops and looks at me like I’m the silliest goose. “That’s an easy fix. All it takes is one little public statementabout how we’ve been calling each other husband and wife for a while . . . ah, so romantic. I don’t care about language specifics. That will be my agent’s problem?—”
I hold up my hand. “I thought you said you needed to get him to sign you again. Like it would require some effort on your part.”
He continues pacing the space. “Well, that will be easy. Aaron reached out to me a few weeks ago and is interested in representing me again—there’s been talk from some general managers that I’ve been missed.”
“If that’s the case, then you don’t actually need my help to resurrect your career,” I point out.
He runs a hand across the back of his neck and grimaces. “Aaron said it would help my image if I were in a committed relationship. It would help me appear grounded and less of a flight-risk to a team because now I’m playing for more than just myself.”
That makes sense, I guess. From what I read, he hadn’t been a serial team-hopper and wasn’t traded regularly, but I can only imagine with his ego he caused them some headaches over the years. “Fine, but how does being married help me?”
Max reaches the dining room table and turns around, heading toward the back door. “You get this.” He gestures to himself and I scoff. “Easy there, I’m kidding. What’s your wildest artist dream?”
To have my abstracts shown in the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. I was so close once upon a time too, but the people who could’ve helped me get there have all moved on. Getting my work in a place like that isn’t done on merit alone, and with each year I’m removed from that part of the art world, the farther that dream slips away. There’s no waymarrying Max Hutchings will get me there, though, no matter how confident he is feeling about this plan right now.
“I don’t need anything. I’ve got an amazing career?—”
It’s his turn to scoff. “Liar, liar, pants on fire.”
Instead of saying anything more, he goes into the garage, emerging again with a step stool and lightbulb. He replaces the burned-out bulb over the sink, and the light comes to life, brightening the kitchen. Satisfied, he says, “That’s so much better. Okay, back to business. Level with me, Nola. You want to break back into abstracts, don’t you?”
“Yes, someday. What I’m doing right now is fine.”
Max lets out a single laugh. “Look me in the eyes and tell me hotel art is really making all your wildest dreams come true.”
“It’s comfortable”—I take a turn to pace the kitchen—“and I like my clients. Besides, there’s always Stella’s portrait commission on the table, and that could help me down the line.”
“But us teaming up together could get your name back in front of the people who?—”
I interrupt him by making a sound like a buzzer. “Errrt. The art world has no ideayouexist. Shocking, I know. I’ve built my own business and have a thriving list of accounts. Besides, there are perks of working with the hospitality industry. You know how many times I’ve had to pay for a hotel in the last eight years? Emma and I have been fortunate to see all kinds of places around the world for dirt cheap.”
This does not seem to interest him in the slightest as he waves it off. “Stella knows people in all the right places.”
“What does that mean?” My mind races with possibility and also how responsible adults don’t find themselves in these conversations.
