“Aren’t you going to ask how my meeting went?” I ask her.
Sonia puts on a terrible English accent. “I would never presume to be so presumptuous as toaskfor information. If my most noble liege wants me to know, she would tell me.”
“You’ve been watchingThe Tudorsagain, haven’t you?”
“It’s not outside the realm of possibility, mi’lady.”
I roll my eyes. Sonia has a flare for the dramatic, and I can’t fire her because Mom told me so. And because I love her and she’s as good at this as I am. But I’m not letting her know that, because then she’ll demand a raise.
Because she’s also as mercenary as me.
“My meeting went great. Harrison’s letting us have a go at making a mock catalog, so I’m going to email you some of the work for the other shows we have going on.” I start going through my emails and forwarding the more boring ones to her. The perks of being the boss.
“Are we sure Chacha’s going to give the show to you and not Ajay?” She knows her uncle too well. But I don’t have to like it, even when she tells me the truth.
“You know, I think there’s a kindly old woman in the middle of Montana who has a few pieces she wants appraised. Maybe you need to go see them in person.” I add the trip to her calendar.
“Noooo! I’m sorry. I love you and you’re clearly the best for the job, and Chachais blind to not see that.”
“Thank you. But you’re still going to Montana. I hear it’s very pretty, from a nature standpoint.”
“But the cell reception...”
The rest of Sonia’s complaints are drowned out by my door bursting open. “Guess what I saw today?”
“Hello, Ajay. Nice to see you, Ajay. Please come in, Ajay.” I keep going through my emails. There’s only a .5 percent chance that this will be work related, so I feel comfortable only giving him one fourth of my attention and getting back to what I need to do.
Ajay lifts Sonia’s legs to make space for himself on the couch, setting her legs back in his lap when he sits down. “Guess what I saw on Twitter, Sonia?”
“Ohhh...what?”
I ignore both of them. This working with family thing makes everyone far too comfortable with each other. It’s gotten to the point where I have fantasies about coming to work and having tepid, impersonal conversations with coworkers, and not really knowing anything about them. Just complaints about having a case of the Mondays and how cold the office is.
“Guess who was at the same restaurant as Priya?” Ajay asks.
“Mindy Kaling?”
“No.”
“Roxane Gay?”
“No.”
“Andy Cohen?”
“God, can you just tell her before she goes through all of her role models?” I ask. But I’m curious who he’s talking about. The Four Seasons is a popular spot for the art world, and business lunches, but I didn’t see anyone who would get my cousin excited.
“Priya’sboyfrandGavin!”
“He is not my boyfriend!” If I didn’t love the art world as much as I did, I would be out of this office so fast. No one should be forced to endure their twin while trying to work. Maybe I can join a paper company. From the multiple television shows about them, it seems like less aggravation than my life.
“What? Why didn’t you tell me you ran into the competition?” Sonia perks up.
“Because it’s not important. How do you know anyway?” I’ve gotten through ten emails while they cackle over my strife.
“He was there with his latest flame, a hot new contemporary artist I follow on the ’Gram,” Ajay responds.
I don’t know if Ajay means hot as in attractive or hot as in popular, but knowing Ajay it could be either or both. He keeps a close watch on contemporary artists because he wants to be the next big artist, despite the fact that Dad wants him to take over the company.
